"Where indeed, for now we are driven into the English line of march and Knoidart was the last place I hankered after. It is better that we should take different roads, Rob, we've travelled too long together. Make you for the south, Rob, and if all goes well wait news for me outside Leith. There is a gibbet there—shall we say this day month, and if I do not come then just go your ways and never say what took you there. And, Rob, change that kilt and for mercy's sake cover your legs with breeks and decent hose, for the like of you would be recognized from end to end of Scotland. They want you, Rob, never forget that—they want you as a rebel, but that's havers; as a prison breaker, but that's neither here nor there—they want you just because you ken where Lovat lies hid, and what came to the treasure of Arkaig. What did come to that same treasure, Rob? Where was it buried or was it not buried at all?"
"I cannot say," replied Rob, "for I do not know."
Muckle John sighed and then shaking him by the hand addressed the far distance with a pensive and melancholy gaze.
"Whether a man is mair injudicious as a fool or a knave must ever be a matter of argument," he mused aloud, "but I ken fine which I would have ye be, Rob," and shaking his head he began to move away.
Suddenly, however, he paused and coming back more quickly led Rob down to the edge of the loch.
"Tell me," he said, "what is there to prevent me from putting you in there?"
"Nothing," said Rob, "but I do not see what you would gain by that—I tell you I know nothing of the treasure. It was hid while I sat upon the beach."
Muckle John shook his head in the same forlorn fashion.
"I hardly like to leave you, Rob," said he sadly, "there are times when I wonder whether you are to be trusted alone. Many men would say you were daffing, Rob—but there's honesty written all over your face. I once met another just like yersel' so I know. It's a terrible responsibility to be so honest, Rob—it maks other folk uncomfortable. Good-bye to ye, Rob, and here's some siller just in case you are hungry or want a night's lodging. But be careful of the wandering bodies Rannoch way, for they'd cut your throat for a nod and follow you to London for the clink of a bawbee."
"Good-bye," said Rob, "where do you go now, Muckle John?"