"Ye don't ken the effect o' a fire like that," said Dan. "A man must look at it, and see the lowes ploofin' into the sky, and the sparks fleein'. He canna help himsel'. The horses will be needing a lot o' handling too, and the men on the low side'll just hiv tae run tae winward or lie in the burn, for the heat o' whuns is terrible. They'll a' face the flames waitin' till we run oot like bleezin' deevils, and they're sae sure that we will start every moment, they will not lift their eyes for fear they will be missing the sight o' us."
"We must just risk it," said I, "for I'm like to freeze here."
Dan put his head out of our hole and crawled out, and I followed, and Ronny last. We could feel the air warm, and the night was clear as day, and yet the searchers stood gazing at their fire as Dan had said. We crawled flat like snakes, keeping among dark patches as much as we could, till we came to the turf dyke, and still our pursuers tended the fire. Slowly and softly we crossed into heather, and lay for a minute. Then, looking down across the common, Dan threw back his head and laughed in his silent fashion.
"We're among our ain heather now, Hamish," says he. "In an hour we'll be among the peat hags. I've a mind tae whistle them up."
"I've lain long enough in the water, Dan," said I.
"Aweel," says he, "we'll just make McAllan's Locker for it; eh, Ronny?" And again we started to run, zigzagging to the dark bits till we crossed the first rise, and we stood looking back. The whins were all ablaze and the trees in the belting standing out clear, and the little figures still running with the torches.
[1] Steep.
[2] Opening.
CHAPTER XII.
McALLAN'S LOCKER.