"Not it. I’ve got it! Let’s empty the ewer of water over him first. I think he’s just under the window, and that’s sure to startle him, and he’ll jump out. Then you must say in an awful voice, ’Throw up your hands without a sound (you mustn’t say it loud, mind) or you’re a dead man.’ And you’ll light the candle and show me holding one of the big pistols hanging at the stair-head. I brought one in with me." "I don’t think he’d better see you," Edmund objected; "he mightn’t be a bit terrified." "Perhaps we’d better keep the room dark, then, and mebbe he’ll think it’s Guardie." "Guardie’s voice isn’t a bit awful. I’ll be a lot more frightening than him, I can tell you. Have you got that jug? Steady, now; mind you don’t let the ewer go, too, else we’d catch it from Robina. Listen a minute!" Again the low whistle immediately under their window. Very carefully they balanced the heavy bedroom jug on the window-sill. "It must go all at once in one big splash!" Montagu whispered, "_Now!_" A very big splash undoubtedly followed. A series of gasps, and the sound of a voice raised in lamentation exclaiming: "Lord hae mercy! What like a way’s that to greet a body? An’ it that dark I couldna’ find the back door. Hoo was I tae ken ye’d a’ be gane tae yer beds at nine o’clock? Ye didna’ use to be sae awfu’ airly. But I’ll just tell you this, Robina lass, it’s the last time you’ll catch me trailin’ awa’ over here to speer after ye—to get sic a like cauld welcome, as though it wasna’ wet eneugh onny wye. I’m din, I can tell ye." Montagu clutched Edmund by the arm, exclaiming in horrified tones, "I do believe it’s Sandie Croall." Then leaning as far out of the window as he could, "Is it you, Sandie? Because, if so, we’re most awfully sorry; only please don’t speak so loud, for Aunt Esperance is asleep, and she’s been so ill. We thought you must be somebody trying to break in. What made you come in the middle of the night?" "It’s no’ the middle o’ the night," Sandie grunted indignantly, "the church clock has only just chappit nine. It happened I could get over, an’ I thocht I’d just look in an’ see Robiny—little thinkin’ I’d get sic a like reception. I’m jest drooket through an’ through. What for did ye no’ speer wha it was, young gentleman, and no’ go droonin’ honest folk?" "Would you like to come in and get dry?" Edmund suggested hospitably; "there’s sure to be some fire in the kitchen." "No, thank ye," Sandie replied, still somewhat huffy, "I’ll get awa’ hame to my mither, an’ she’ll dry my claes to me whiles I’m in my bed." "Shall I tell Robina you called?" Montagu asked politely. Sandie paused. "I’m thinkin’, young gentleman," he remarked severely, "that the less you say about to-night’s wark the better it will be for you. If I am content to pass the matter over with obleevion, it’s the least you can dae to dae the same." "We’re most awfully sorry," the boys said once more in subdued chorus.