HE PEERED THROUGH THE HEATHER UPON THE BEACH.
Throughout the day he saw no glimpse of red-coats, and when evening was falling he stepped boldly down upon the shore of the loch, and thence onward to Lochnanuagh, where, to his excitement, the white sails of a frigate were bellied out with the breeze. Hastily concealing himself he peered through the heather upon the beach where a great number of people, principally Camerons and Macdonalds, were collected, and with them a squarely built, consequential little man very plainly dressed, who seemed greatly agitated about the numbers on the shore and anxious to disperse the crowd at all costs. But the more he cajoled and threatened the more closely they thronged the beach, and in the meanwhile the frigate had run down her anchor and lowered a boat. In it Rob could distinguish four men and some cargo, which had been slung down from the deck. On the shore there was a sudden silence almost startling after the clash of voices before. The creak of the rowlocks came nearer, and though far up the hill—so still was the day—Rob could catch the French manner of their speech, and once he heard the small man upon the beach cough and blow his nose.
But immediately the keel of the boat grated upon the shingle, the greatest animation was displayed. The sailors threw the cargo (which comprised some half-dozen little casks) upon the sand, and under the instructions of the little man they were carried into a secluded place and a rope slipped round them, whereupon he set about paying the sailors.
At that moment, however, there was a sullen boom like the noise of a gun far out at sea, and without a second's delay the boat shot away to the frigate, the anchor was raised, and running up her canvas she wheeled like a sea-bird and catching the breeze sped towards open water. From the noise of firing out at sea it was apparent that an action was in progress between an English man-of-war and the French ships.
The excitement upon the beach now boiled to fever heat. The hills nearest the bay were soon black with spectators, and in the midst of this new sensation the casks upon the beach were forgotten by all except the little man.
Indeed, had he not passed so close leading a Shetland pony very carefully and yet urging it to its fullest speed, Rob would never have remembered the landing of that mysterious cargo and consequently never have been mixed up in the tragedy of gold. But to Rob there was something enormously mystifying about the character of this solitary traveller, with his anxious manner, and the rattling casks ranged high upon the pony's flanks. It was like an old wife's tale of the fairies and their secret kegs of heather ale.
Partly because they were going the same road—partly because his curiosity was awake—he followed him through the heather, keeping a sharp eye meanwhile, for again and again the man upon the track would swing suddenly about and send his gaze ranging the hill-side for fear of being followed by the people on the shore. But always he did so with the utmost haste, urging the pony onwards after each halt, as though he feared the approach of night, or something that Rob knew nothing about.
And so they reached Loch Arkaig, and on the shore of the loch the man seemed to hesitate and take thought, and then hitching the pony to a tree he conveyed the casks to the sand beside the edge of the heather, and flinging off his coat, drew a spade from a hidden place and commenced to dig.
Twilight had come, and so shadowy had the shore grown that Rob crept nearer, wriggling through the tufts of heather and rock as noiselessly as an Indian.
Suddenly, however, he saw the head and shoulders of some one else silhouetted against the grey surface before him, a man who crouched and ducked his head as the digging ceased or recommenced upon the beach with the same care that he himself was practising. It was evident to Rob that there was more in all of this than he had imagined.