"Stop, Rob!" shouted Muckle John. "What's taken ye?" and flinging his legs over the side of the cart, he began to run in pursuit.
"Rob!" he cried again, and came up with him.
"Well?"
"What has come over ye?" he asked.
"Would ye hang yersel' just to spite me? What's done is done, Rob; and I'm no perhaps the saint ye took me for. But save ye I will, and that's the naked truth."
"Let me pass!" cried Rob, and took a step to the right of him.
"Very good," he replied grimly, "but come ye will," and catching him into his huge arms, he flung him suddenly upon the ground and bound his wrists. Struggle as Rob would it availed him less than nothing, and so at last, with hands tied together and a dirk-point in his ribs, he must needs march in the direction Muckle John wished.
For a full hour they trudged on thus, leaving the cart to care for itself.
Then at last he spoke.
"Stop!" he said, holding out his wrists. "I have had enough of this."