"Please God, he is out o' your reach."
"Aweel, there are ways and means to unseal tight lips, ye ken," said he, nodding significantly. "We will begin wi' the bairn. Ken ye aught o' your uncle?" asked the man, who, strange as it may seem, had once called himself our friend, and, I doubt not, had more than once held Jamie on his knee. Now he was our worst enemy. He had volunteered to lead the way up and down braes, through hills and dales, by wimpling burns and wraith-haunted lochs, in order to tear from peaceful homes the honored and the good. Such was the man who questioned Jamie. I blessed the brave lad in my heart, while I trembled for the effect of his answer.
"If I do, or if I dinna, it is a' the ane thing to you."
"We shall see whether it is or no. When did he gang awa?"
No answer was given.
"When did he awa? I hae asked you. Was it the nicht?"
Still no answer.
"We will soon gar ye tell all ye know," said the man, as he took from his pocket a match. Lighting it at the fire, he placed it between the poor lad's fingers, and held it there. "That will soon fetch an answer," said he.