"MUCKLE JOHN!" shouted the officer, "if what you say is true," he cried, and breaking off he started running towards the tent and peered within, then parting the folds, disappeared altogether. But an instant later, he was tearing about the camp like a man gone mad.
"He's made off!" he shouted. "Sound the bugle there, and search the hills!" Then plunging into his tent again, he reappeared with his hat in his hand.
For Muckle John had taken his departure, leaving behind him only a neat hole in the canvas of the tent, on the side farthest from the real Captain Strange, whose reputation as a secret agent in the English service did not warrant for his future safety. For long the soldiers searched, but no sign of Muckle John was discovered, and none had seen him go.
To Rob, however, this was poor comfort, for bound hand and foot and guarded by two soldiers he passed a miserable night, and when morning came he was set between a file of soldiers, and the march to Fort Augustus commenced, where it was rumoured that the Duke of Cumberland would arrive that day.
It was not till mid-day that his hands were loosed, and then, very cautiously, he searched for the precious paper, knowing that the time for its destruction was come.
His fingers ran cautiously down the side of his brogue. He did so lying on his side, and his legs tucked up under his kilt.
But all in vain, for the paper was gone.
CHAPTER X
THE LAST FLICKER
It is an error to suppose that the Jacobites were ready to surrender all hope of resistance without a last bid for terms, if not for victory. Culloden was lost, but a large body of the clans had not come up in time to engage in the battle. An ignominious flight spelt utter ruin to the chiefs and unquestioned submission to the Government, whereas a stand in the hills was eminently suited to Highland warfare. Cavalry were useless in rough country and southern soldiers easily outwitted and confused.