Nearer and nearer came the thud of feet.
"It is himself," she whispered, "Neil Mackenzie new come from Skye."
Muckle John smiled grimly.
"From the frying-pan into the fire, Rob," said he, and sat down beside the fire.
Out upon the roadway they heard muffled voices and once a man's face looked in at the window-hole and disappeared very sharply.
As for Muckle John he appeared greatly interested in the peats upon which he was sitting.
Suddenly there appeared in the doorway a man of about fifty, of middle height, but with the broadest shoulders and chest that Rob had ever seen. He was in full Highland dress, with a claymore at his side, and one hand rested on the hilt of it and the other on his hip. His attitude was cool and insolent. His features were broad and coarse and his smooth, clean-shaven face over fat and pink, but there was no denying the spirit of the man. His eyes were full of it—that, and an ugly malice.
HE WAS IN FULL HIGHLAND DRESS, WITH A CLAYMORE AT HIS SIDE.