They were about to return now sorrowfully homewards, when high up the hill and at the foot of a semi-lunar patch of rocks--an upheaval that had taken place probably millions of years ago--Vike was noticed, and his movements attracted the attention of all.
He was yap-yapping as if in great grief, tearing up the snow at the foot of a mighty drift and casting it behind him and over him.
A pure white dog was the Newfoundland at present, so laden was his coat with the powdery drift.
"Come on, men, come on," cried Glenvoie, "there yet is hope! The good dog scents something in spite or the snow. It may only be sheep, and yet poor dead frozen Sandie may be amongst them."
It took them but a few minutes to reach the cliff and the huge snowdrift that covered its western side. It was then that Duncan remembered something about these rocks.
"Why, father," he said, "now that I think of it, this is Prince Charlie's cave."
"You are right, lad, and my hopes are certainly in the ascendant."
"Conal and I have often been inside, and there is room enough inside to shelter a flock of sheep, or a regiment of soldiers."
"Now then, lads," cried the laird, "work away with a will. I'll take care you don't lose by it."
He handed them his flask as he spoke, and thus refreshed by the wine of their native land, they did work, and with a will too.