"He rang the bell, and his body-servant cam’ in, and he gave orders that ane o’ the men was to accompany me to my lodgings to get a pot o’ salve. So I set oot, gled as you can weel guess, to be under the open sky aince mair. The sodger wha accompanied me was a douce lad, and by way o’ reward for his convoy I gied him a wee bit o’ Virginia weed to himsel’, forby four pots o’ the salve to tak’ to Sir Robert. "Juist as I let him oot o’ the door o’ my lodging, the clock struck twal, and the soond o’ it brocht back to me the thocht that you wad be at a sair loss to ken what had happened to me. I turned things ower in my mind and it seemed to me that Dumfries is no’ exactly a safe place for us at the moment. So I decided that in an ’oor or twa, when a’ should be quiet, I would slip ower and waken you and tak’ ye awa’ oot o’ danger. "So here we are. That’s the true story o’ a’ that has happened since I saw you last; and as we are weel oot o’ the toon and there’s naebody aboot, I think we micht rest oorsels a wee and, juist by way o’ celebratin’ oor escape oot o’ the tiger’s den, we micht sample the Malvoisie. I’ve got Lag’s bottle, and I aye cairry a corkscrew." *CHAPTER XXXI* *THE CAVE BY THE LINN* We took turns at the bottle, and found the wine of excellent quality. After a short rest we resumed our journey. The moon had set and from some distant farmyard a cock crew lustily, and I knew that daybreak was not far off. The wine, or the exercise, or the knowledge that he had escaped from a situation of grave danger, had an exhilarating effect upon the packman, who was now in high spirits. I ventured, while congratulating him upon his escape, to ask where we might be going, for I was at a loss to know. Now and then I heard the sound of running water, and in the grey of dawn I was able to catch a glimpse of a stream to our right, which I thought must be the Nith. "We’re drawing near Auldgirth," he said. "Beyond that we’ll come to Closeburn, and no’ lang after that we’ll be snug hidden in a cave at Crichope Linn." Soon we came to a bridge, with three arches spanning the brown river. Hector scrambled down through the bushes by the roadside and made his way under the nearest arch, and I followed him. A little grassy bank lay between the pier of the bridge and the water, and here we sat down. The packman unstrapped his wooden leg, and, with some groaning, for the process evidently caused him discomfort, removed his great shaggy beard. "I’ll bury my tree-leg here, for the time being, but the beard I’ll tak’ wi’ me in my pooch. That’s sufficient disguise for me: as for you, you’ll be nane the waur o’ a bit o’ disguise as weel."