THE END OF A TALE All that weeping night of rain Rob travelled towards Glen Lyon glad for every foot of heather between him and the weird house upon the loch. Passing through the country of the Mackenzies he reached Killin, and there fell in with a band of gipsies sitting round their camp fire. They numbered about a score--men, women, and little brown children--and they welcomed him to share their meat in the kindliest manner, asking no questions and displaying no curiosity in his affairs. Only the chief knew Gaelic, and he was all the more ready to hear the news of the north from Rob, who gathered that his affection for the red-coats was by no means warm. Rob accepted his kindness with a qualm of self reproach. It had suddenly occurred to him that in accepting such a wealth of hospitality he was endangering them to the vengeance of the Government. Such a prospect was not to be contemplated. "Let me speak to you alone," he said to the chief. In the privacy of the tent he told him all. "I will not attempt to deny," said he, "that there are those who would give much to capture me, not for any importance I may have, but because of another...." The gipsy followed his words with expressionless attention. Then rising he drew a paper from his pocket. "Read," he said simply. It was a Government notice for posting up under gibbets and suchlike, intimating that anyone who laid one, Rob Fraser, by the heels, dead or alive, would receive a reward of fifty pounds. Rob turned cold at the dreadful wording of it. It described him minutely, and went on to say that he was last seen with the notorious rebel called "Muckle John." "You knew?" said he at last. The other laughed softly. "What does it matter?" he replied, "but I thank you for your confidence, and when next you see Muckle John say that Gloom the Gipsy has not forgotten him." "Are you a friend of Muckle John?" "I may be counted such, though he has no lack of friends--or enemies." "But I cannot imperil your people, it is more than is reasonable." "Rob Fraser," said Gloom very gravely, "you are as good as taken. The soldiers are watching for you on the Highland Line, and from here to Stirling is alive with spies. To-morrow we will carry you through Balquhidder, for if you fell foul of the wild caterans there it would be a short shift for you." "Balquhidder--I have heard the name...." He laughed outright at that. "It's clear ye are north country bred," he said, "there are more thieves Balquhidder way than in Lochaber itself." Thankful indeed for his good fortune Rob bade his friend good-night, and lying down before the fire was soon fast asleep. With the dawn they were marching towards Crianlarich where they took to the heather, and crossing the hills came down upon Loch Doine at the head of Balquhidder. As they streamed into the flat country at the top of the loch they passed a square thatched house at the foot of the slope facing the amber stream.