"I am not knowing for sure, Angus, but belike he has taken to the heather like many another pretty fellow, though he looked like one ye know of, whose name I will not be mentioning. Whoever he is—he will not be meddling with us, Angus."
"But where can the Captain have got to—he was watching Archie Cameron and then he disappeared, and Cameron too."
With a backward look Muckle John stole on, and Rob and he passed into the heart of the wood and up to the hollow place where Macaulay had disappeared. There Muckle John straightened himself, and pushing aside the bracken at the lower end of the hollow he beckoned to Rob.
"There," he said, "is your prisoner," and sure enough there lay the bound and silent form of Ephraim Macaulay.
"But how did he get here?" asked Rob. "He could not have rolled."
"Rob," replied Muckle John, "I will be franker with you than you have been with me. I brought him here mysel'."
"You?"
"And who else? But let that be. I have a notion that we must hurry," and he began to unloose the ropes about the prisoner's hands.
Rob watched him without a word, too perplexed to speak.
"Muckle John," he whispered at last, "could we no mak' use of his clothes?"