To me the news was some relief. Now I could at least do something. I left the group, and hurried away to find Turkey. Except my father, I trusted more in Turkey than in anyone. I got on a rising ground near the manse, and looked all about until I found where the cattle were feeding that afternoon, and then darted off at full speed. They were at some distance from home, and I found that Turkey had heard nothing of the mishap. When I had succeeded in conveying the dreadful news, he shouldered his club, and said-- “The cows must look after themselves, Ranald!” With the words he set off at a good swinging trot in the direction of a little rocky knoll in a hollow about half a mile away, which he knew to be a favourite haunt of Wandering Willie, as often as he came into the neighbourhood. On this knoll grew some stunted trees, gnarled and old, with very mossy stems. There was moss on the stones too, and between them grew lovely harebells, and at the foot of the knoll there were always in the season tall foxgloves, which had imparted a certain fear to the spot in my fancy. For there they call them _Dead Man’s Bells_, and I thought there was a murdered man buried somewhere thereabout. I should not have liked to be there alone even in the broad daylight. But with Turkey I would have gone at any hour, even without the impulse which now urged me to follow him at my best speed. There was some marshy ground between us and the knoll, but we floundered through it; and then Turkey, who was some distance ahead of me, dropped into a walk, and began to reconnoitre the knoll with some caution. I soon got up with him. “He’s there, Ranald!” he said. “Who? Davie?” “I don’t know about Davie; but Willie’s there.” “How do you know?” “I heard his bagpipes grunt. Perhaps Davie sat down upon them.” “Oh, run, Turkey!” I said, eagerly. “No hurry,” he returned. “If Willie has him, he won’t hurt him, but it mayn’t be easy to get him away. We must creep up and see what can be done.” Half dead as some of the trees were, there was foliage enough upon them to hide Willie, and Turkey hoped it would help to hide our approach. He went down on his hands and knees, and thus crept towards the knoll, skirting it partly, because a little way round it was steeper. I followed his example, and found I was his match at crawling in four-footed fashion. When we reached the steep side, we lay still and listened. “He’s there!” I cried in a whisper. “Sh!” said Turkey; “I hear him. It’s all right. We’ll soon have a hold of him.” A weary whimper as of a child worn out with hopeless crying had reached our ears. Turkey immediately began to climb the side of the knoll. “Stay where you are, Ranald,” he said. “I can go up quieter than you.”