"I'm no denying it—though maybe ye had safer speak for yersel', Rob, but to-day will end many a friendship, and I'm no trusting Lochiel himsel' until I'm clear of this business."
Nearer they drew to the lights of Gortuleg House, but the closer they came the more cautious grew Muckle John, feeling his way with immoderate care, and with a hand upon the horse's nostrils for fear of a whinny. To the rear of the house there stood a wall with a few stunted fruit-trees in an orchard. In the same anxious silence Muckle John hitched the bridle to a branch and lifted Rob down.
"Bide here," he whispered, "until I come, and if any one speaks to you say that you're waiting upon Lord Lovat."
"Lord Lovat?"
"Who else?"
"But is he here?"
"Man Rob, I've no time to teach you elements of common sense. If ye see a wheen corbies driving across the sky what do ye ken?"
"That there's carrion," said Rob to humour his temper.
"And if ye see muckle muir-fowl cowering among the heather?"
"A hawk."