“Why do you want to know that?” impatiently demanded Bunol.
“Ye ha’ to satisfy me,” stubbornly said the little man. “I ha’ to know ye really mean to keep him captive wi’out doing him harm. ’Less ye tell me where ye tak’ him, I will no do it.”
MacLane knew Aaron to be immovable as the Scottish hills once he had set his mind on anything, and therefore he turned to the Spanish youth, saying:
“Ye hae to tell him, man.”
“But can he be trusted?”
“Aaron will na dare to betray me, but he has his whims, an’ ye’ll hae to humor him.”
Bunol hesitated, not fancying the idea of trusting the little man with the foolishly shrewd face to such an extent.
“It’s against my judgment,” he declared.
“Then tak’ th’ judgment o’ Rob MacLane. Ye canna do anything wi’ Aaron till ye trust him fully, as he thinks he has tae trust ye.”
“All right,” said the Spanish youth. “He will be taken to the old castle on the island, Aaron.”