And so began the flight of the treasure--Rob creeping through the darkness of the trees, rolling a cask, stealing noiseless as a shadow over the wet leaves and bracken, and all the time seeing in the black night the terrible eyes of Ephraim Macaulay marking his every step. Backwards and forwards until his back ached, and the moisture stood heavy upon his brow. In the passive stillness of the night there was no breath of danger, no whisper of heather alive with fugitives, and spies, and nameless wanderers. As he made for the slope with the last cask he saw Cameron smoothing over the place with cunning hands, and patting the marks of his footsteps about the sand. Then he too followed, and together they knelt by the stream. "Now, Rob," said Cameron, "first there'll be a score of Highland caterans scanning this shore, and after that there'll be the red-coats, who are sure to get wind of it; and so it's our business, ye ken, to mak' siccar* of this. Maybe ye hae never hidden treasure, Rob, so let us have a crack about it. Come ye nearer. Now, when our friend in the hollow there gets his freedom he'll show a clear pair o' heels to those who sent him, an' I'm uncommon interested to ken just who they are." * Certain. "No, no," said Rob, with a touch of importance; "he is after me. He is a school-master of Inverness...." "Oh! Maybe, maybe," broke in Cameron. "He is capable of being all that. But it's mair than you, Rob--though I hate to seem to undervalue your importance, laddie." "Then he is not..." "Whisht! What does it matter who he is? So ye understand, Rob. Follow him, and see whether he makes north or south, and then when ye know that I will send you on a journey, for I am travelling east mysel'." "But Lord Lovat." The man beside him started. "What of him, Rob?" he asked quickly. "Maybe he will require me." Cameron laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Rob," said he very gravely, "Lord Lovat will require mair than you to save his auld neck, and for mercy's sake dinna breathe a word of this night's wark to him--nor to onybody but the one ye ken of." "No," said Rob, "to nobody but the Prince." "Come then, for time passes. When the search for this treasure commences--for mark you a score of eyes must have been watching me just as closely as your own--what will they do when they dig on the sand and find an empty huddle o' stanes? They will examine the neighbourhood for traces of spade work and footsteps. They know a single man like mysel' could not carry those casks mair than a hundred yards. They'd come straight here, Rob, like a pack of hounds on the trail." "What can we do?" asked Rob, fearing his work was thrown away.