"Tuts," he replied, "it's evident ye were much impressed with Culloden day; but I would scorn to use an auld trick like that twice in one week. There are folk, Rob, would send the word round that Muckle John was no what he was," and he turned again to Macaulay and loosed his feet. But the gag he left in his mouth, only removing the bandage from his eyes. "Now, sir," he went on, addressing Macaulay in a low voice, "I have here a dirk which does its work secretly and yet with dispatch. Ye take my meaning? I have also a loaded pistol in my pocket, and I flatter myself you are acquainted with my marksmanship. Before we start upon our jaunt there are one or two questions I would ask ye. Just nod your head and I'll excuse a civil answer. I take it that we are surrounded here?"
A violent nod could just be discerned in the gloom.
"Thank ye. In which quarter are your people gathered? Point with your hand."
After a momentary hesitation the prisoner pointed towards the west.
"Brawly done, sir, I knew I could trust you to lie. So we will gang to the left just to spite ye. Now walk between us, and mind, my dirk is itching for a dig into your ribs. If we are challenged say it is only twa o' your friends, and at the first word o' treachery I'll stick you like a pig." With this caution, he drew the gag out of Macaulay's mouth.
"Hark ye, Rob," he went on in a low tone. "There are a score of men around this place, and they're after something with which you are no unacquainted. Should we win through there will be no rest for us till we are well out of the Cameron country—but I doubt the length and breadth of the Highlands will hardly be large enough."
All this he said in a very grave voice, and then taking Macaulay by the arm, he led him towards the hill-front with Rob upon his other side.
The dawn was near at hand and the driving mist fell cold as ice upon their faces. Down below them they could see the cold sheen of the loch, and hear the wild fowl crying in the reeds. After a full quarter of a mile Muckle John halted.
"Now, Rob," said he, "we have reached their line of watchers. As we pass up the brae, we will be scanned by many an unseen eye. Dinna speak, but nod to me when I address ye, and tak' the upper side, for you are nane the waur for a bit heightening," and with that they left the shelter of the trees. In the dim, grey light, the hillside looked very wan and desolate. A whaup was crying mournfully over a lonely pool of hill water. Like a shadow a dog-fox, homeward bound, slipped over the path and was swallowed up amongst the crags.
No other sound reached their ears.