At last he turned his head and let his eyes rest on Rob, and then again upon the grey horse with its drooping head. With a faint shrug of his shoulders he shook the boy.
"Rob," said he, "do you ken yon house?"
With a groan Rob struggled up.
"Gortuleg House," he replied, "I know it well."
Muckle John of a sudden turned his head and raised his hand for silence.
From far away along the track they had come was a sharp click-clack like the rattle of a loose stone on a horse's hoof.
"Ye hear, Rob," he whispered, "there'll be few abed to-night. Come away, boy, this is a daft-like place to be found in."
From up the hill came the mournful whistle once again. It was answered by another far down the glen.
"The place is hotching with Frasers," he muttered, lifting Rob upon the horse, "and where the Frasers are a man must feel his way, saving your presence, Rob."
"They are our friends," said Rob stoutly, "and my people."