“Think o’ ta laddie finding his way doon here,” said the forester.
“You don’t think he can have slipped in anywhere?” whispered Kenneth. “It’s a nasty place, even by day.”
“Oh ay, laddie, and ta fush are sma’ and hard to get. She’d get richt alang, though. Noo, which way wad she gang—up by ta waterfa’, or awa’ through ta wee bit burnie?”
“I don’t know, Tavvy,” panted Kenneth; “but we ought to be near him now.”
“Nay; she’ll be a lang gate yet, my bairn. Air ye there, sir?”
“Yes; go on,” came from behind; and the rough tramp was continued, till the forester cried,—
“She’s gaed up ta burnie.”
“Why, Tavvy, there’s a light there! What light’s that?”
“Licht?” said Tavish innocently. “Hey, there’s a licht!”
“What can it be?”