"Maybe he's no been as fortunate as we could have wished," he said, slowly shaking his head. "Dinna clash words wi' me!" she screamed. "Oot with it, ye Hieland cateran--what o' Rob--where is he--is he in prison?" "No, no," cried Muckle John, "though maybe no so far off, either." The hawk eyes were now fixed fiercely on him. "What did ye come here for?" she cried. "What has kept your feet hammering the road for hours past? Was it just for the pleasure o' a crack wi' me? Oh, no, my man, there's a bonny tale behind your face," and she sat herself down, her chin resting on her hand. With a shrug Muckle John told of the flight from Culloden (saying nothing of his part that day), and of the meeting on the shore of Arkaig, and the taking of Rob. "He is meddling in business that I canna control," he said finally, "and so he's bound for Fort Augustus, and out of it he must come or my name's no Muckle John." "Which is probably true," sniffed Miss Macpherson, "and no sae comforting as maybe ye intended." He gloomed at her a moment without speaking. "Mistress Macpherson," he said at last, "listen to me. When Rob is brought up in Fort Augustus, your friend Ephraim Macaulay, whose real name is Captain Strange and a notorious spy, will seek to prove that he was in arms at Culloden. They must prove that, to put the fear of death on him for reasons best left unsaid. Who will know Rob better than yersel', and who will come to the mind of Strange mair clearly? Should he be asked to travel south, be prepared in advance, for it rests wi' you whether Rob goes free or not." "I always suspected yon Macaulay," remarked Miss Macpherson, "and his Scots was no what I call sound Edinburgh." "He has muckle strings to his bow, and who can say what arrow may bring doon Rob? But when the message comes, Mistress Macpherson, dinna deny that ye ken Rob, for that will prove his guilt at once, for ithers can be found who will jump at the chance o' pleasing Strange. Mak' a lot of him, and when ye say good-bye to him in his cell, hand the man on guard a piece of siller, and shut the door. There is one I ken in the fort will be glad to do me a favour, and he will put Rob in one of the rooms overlooking the outer court." "Go on, my man," said she; "I'm no slow in the uptak." With a reddened face, Muckle John unloosened his jacket. "Here," said he, "are one or two things that may serve our purpose," and he showed her a coil of slender rope, a file, a pistol, and a skian-dhu. "They're a bonny lot," said she, "but I'm no just catching their connexion wi' mysel'." "Mistress Macpherson," said Muckle John, growing still redder in the face, "if ye could see your way to coiling this rope about your waist and concealing the other things, I think Rob is as good as safe." For long she sat silent. "Sir," she said, "I believe you are an honest man, though I was positive ye were a rogue until this very minute."