"Muckle John," he repeated, "I seem to know the name—so you came with him did ye? And where were you, Rob, when the horsemen arrived? Was Muckle John with you then?"
"No, he had left me."
"Of course—of course—and then he came back and told you he was going away on important business, Rob."
"He said he would return."
At that Lovat left him, laughing as though something mightily funny had been said. But at the door he turned, still convulsed with his humour, and wagging a finger at him remarked:
"Mind my words, laddie, the race is not always to the swift nor the battle to the strong."
But Rob only looked at him in wonder, seeing nothing but an old sick man overtaken by dotage.
Then setting out upon the heather he made for the head of Loch Arkaig.
