"Who indeed, sir? Lochiel—Cluny...?"
"No, no, who but Muckle John, the most dangerous of them all when mischief is afoot."
"Muckle John? But is he not abroad?"
"Abroad—who ever heard of him abroad when there is a head to crack at home? They say he is wanted on a charge in the Low Countries."
"A dangerous fellow," said Muckle John severely, "and yet there's a kind of quality about the man—a bird of passage, Captain Campbell, and a bonny player on the chanter."
"More a gallows-bird than any other. He'll whistle a thin enough tune when the Duke has finished with him. He lays great stress on his taking, I can tell ye. He can spin a yarn, Captain Strange, that will be worth hearing, I'll be bound. He and that boy, Rob Fraser, are in company, as desperate a pair as ever skulk in the heather this day."
"I take it there is no saying where they lie?"
The other winked very slyly at that.
"The net is closing," he said, "and once the boy is caught, there is small chance of the other going loose."
In the meantime, Rob was outside, and he wished Muckle John would come. Before them was a weary tramp, and already he was tired. His eyes shut for a moment—then opened and shut again. He took to thinking of his father, and how it fared with Lord Lovat, and so thinking he fell asleep.