HAMISH TO THE RESCUE
The storm which awakened Marjorie had also roused Hamish. He awoke to hear the rain pouring down, and the burn rushing along in heavy spate.
'Fine fishing, to-morrow,' said Hamish to himself, 'but, whew! how the wind's rising. The rain can't last long at this rate.'
He lay a little longer, listening to the rushing of the burn; then he began to think of the people who might be without shelter that night; Neil (who he hoped would take shelter in one of the cottages if the gale continued) and the gipsies, and Gibbie MacKerrach.
At the thought of Gibbie a sudden recollection came into his sleepy brain.
He remembered the lad's lair in the hills, above his father's house, and that the wind had been blowing from that direction on the day when a paper had been found fluttering in the ruins.
Had no one ever connected the crazy lad with the robbery?
The idea seemed fanciful, but still it would do no harm to go and examine Gibbie's curious little cave on the hillside.
Hamish thought he would set out at once, before daylight came and made him feel how ridiculous it was to think of such a thing.
The dawn was hardly making any headway through the clouds and the rain, and Hamish pulled up the collar of his coat and pushed forward in the darkness.