"Kate," he whispered, "it is I—Wat."
Whereat she ran to him with a sob of relief that was very sweet to hear, and nestled with her head on his broad shoulder.
"Oh, thank God you have come! All will now be well."
Wat did not feel so sure of that, but, nevertheless, he caressed the clustering curls and held his love to his bosom, murmuring little meaningless words which Kate felt were better to listen to than much wisdom.
Presently Bess Landsborough brought Wat a pair of pistols, a double flask of powder, and a bagful of bullets.
"We must see about getting John Scarlett out of his prison," she said. "I have the victuals all ready. There is a rope behind the dike at the corner that looks to the sea. But ye had better get John Scarlett out first, and then ye can all three lend a hand at the carrying—save us! What's that?"
Bess Landsborough sprang sharply out of the inner room to the door which gave upon the moor.
"Hide ye, Wat Gordon," she said; "here comes some one to visit us."
Kate made Wat lie down between the compacted heather of her couch and the outer wall of the hut. Then she threw a coverlet deftly over him. Wat grasped his dagger bare in his right hand to be ready in any emergency, but his left found a way almost of its own accord through the heather, till in the darkness it rested in Kate's as she sat on the edge of the bed.
"My Lord of Barra," they heard Bess Landsborough say, without, "have ye forgotten aught? We thought you gone to repose yourself after your journey."