"Not you; but one whom you have sheltered, Heaven alone knows why. Is he still here?"
"He left two hours ago and more. You must search Lochaber, Captain Strange. I doubt you've made a sair muddle of this."
The moon was topping the hills, and a soft grey light stole suddenly down the crags, and fell upon the face of Strange.
"What of your men?" asked Muckle John at last.
Strange gave a bitter laugh.
"They will not stir," he said, "and if they do, Rob here can hold the pass."
"I am not an executioner," said Muckle John, "and I have only one leg."
"Then I must say that Muckle John was mair glib with his tongue than his sword. But I will not say Muckle John—I will say..."
"Enough! Let that name bide its time."
For a minute Muckle John remained silent, then limping towards the flat place before the cave-mouth, he took a long draught of water.