But Muckle John only handed him a bannock and a cup of water from the burn.
"That would be telling," he said, and wrapping himself up in his plaid he sat blinking at the fire.
CHAPTER XIX
THE DANCE OF THE MACKENZIES
During the mending time of Muckle John's ankle they lay hid in the broken castle, and such a tale was told about the banshee that the place was given a wide berth. Each of the four soldiers related the terrible experience to a dozen other soldiers and those added a trifle of their own and handed it on so that within a day the whole of Fort Augustus knew of it, and soon it was spreading to the searching parties amongst the hills and within a week Edinburgh was posting it down to London.
Many, indeed, scoffed at the thing but, as none came to give the banshee a personal test—the desire of Muckle John for absolute quiet was gratified. The castle was treated with profound respect for fully a century afterwards.
It fell to Rob to scour the neighbouring country at night for food, and so a week passed peacefully enough, and one evening with a promise of fine weather and a starlit night they prepared to set out again.
"Let us make for Loch Carron, Rob," said Muckle John, "the country thereabouts is clear of troops and when we hear news of a French ship in the Sound of Sleat we can go south."
"Must we go to France, Muckle John?"
"That or Holland, Rob—but only for a while. This will all blow over, and when you have grown a beard, back you will come and none will know ye."