"It has occurred to me that you promised," returned Miss Macpherson. "Promised! What are promises between you and me?" "Then Rob is to be left to his fate?" "No." "What do you mean?" Muckle John turned, and threw back his shoulders. "You have yet to learn," he said stiffly, "that the oath of a Highland gentleman can never be broken. I swore on the dirk I would bring him safe from prison, and that I will do." Once more he seemed on the point of falling into another fit of fury; but fought it down, and pointed instead to her horse. "Go!" he cried. "And not a word of this or I'll string you up to your ain roof-tree, and no' so sorry to have the excuse." "Mercy me!" murmured Miss Macpherson, and made for her beast. Then, mounting, she sent him through the heather towards the track. A hundred yards down the hill-side she looked back. But the little cluster of trees was empty of life. Muckle John had vanished as though he had never been. With a sudden fear clutching at her heart, she dug her heels into the horse's ribs, and broke into a disjointed canter. On the same morning that saw Miss Macpherson urging her mount towards Inverness, in a cave upon a wild and desolate mountain-top three men were seated playing a hand of cards. They were all in the Highland dress, and armed to the teeth--lean, swarthy men, burned by the sun to a deep black-red--sitting silent as statues, eyes intent upon the game. Beside one of them lay a handful of gold coins. Near the mouth of the cave, lying on his stomach, was a boy of about fifteen, watching the hill-side. Suddenly he uttered a low word in Gaelic, and instantly but in the same grave silence the men ended their play, and gathering up the cards one slipped them into his sporran. A moment later the mouth of the cave darkened and the huge form of Muckle John filled the entrance. He nodded to each of them as they saluted him, and motioning them to be seated he lay for a long time gnawing his lip and staring gloomily upon the ground. They appeared not unused to such behaviour for they drew together at the farthest corner and the man with the cards in his sporran took them out again and, dealing them round, the game went on as before. An hour passed and Muckle John had said no word--had made no sign. Of a sudden, however, a slow smile began to creep into his eyes and soften the corners of his mouth. A droll expression flitted across his face and vanished. Then, taking a piece of clean paper from his pocket, and a pencil, he studied Rob's writing in a deep pause, and began to write in a close imitation, as follows: "This to tell you that the treasure is discovered, and that unless it be put in a safe place, all will be lost. The bearer of this letter can be trusted. Come to me at a place that this man will show you, for the Prince is with me, and is in need of you and some gold. ROB FRASER."