"He isn't much use as a dog if he makes that fuss for nothing," Gray returned.
"Weel, weel, we are baith getting auld thegither."
M'Pherson rose as he spoke and went to the door to open it.
"You are not going out?" Gray cried.
The old man turned a wondering face upon him.
"Wad ye keep the door barred on sic a nicht as this, if there's onybody outside i' the wind and rain? A braw laddie like you suld hae nae fears: ye suld leave that to the women, puir feeble folk."
Gray's face grew scarlet at the rebuke. He said no more, and M'Pherson opened the door and peered out into the dark, stormy night. He shouted once or twice, but there was no answer nor sound of footsteps. If the dog had heard footsteps they had now ceased; and only the voices of wind, and rain, and rushing torrent came up the glen.