Neil dropped into the chair that was offered him, and leant his head on his hand, while the others gathered silently around him. Allan and Reggie were nearest, one on either side, and Reggie put his hand protectingly on his friend's shoulder. In the background, Mr. Stewart fidgeted with the things that had been carried in from the pony cart, and Tricksy was silently shedding tears, poor little girl, leaning against her mother. The only one who could think of anything to do was Laddie, who came in, planted himself in front of Neil, and endeavoured to express his sympathy by slipping his nose under the lad's disengaged hand. Almost without knowing that he was doing it, Neil put out his hand and caressed the dog's smooth head, and the two remained thus in a silent understanding. Every one was feeling very miserable when there came a sound of wheels; a gig drew up at the door, and several persons sprang down and burst into the hall. CHAPTER XV HAMISH TO THE RESCUE The storm which awakened Marjorie had also roused Hamish. He awoke to hear the rain pouring down, and the burn rushing along in heavy spate. 'Fine fishing, to-morrow,' said Hamish to himself, 'but, whew! how the wind's rising. The rain can't last long at this rate.' He lay a little longer, listening to the rushing of the burn; then he began to think of the people who might be without shelter that night; Neil (who he hoped would take shelter in one of the cottages if the gale continued) and the gipsies, and Gibbie MacKerrach. At the thought of Gibbie a sudden recollection came into his sleepy brain. He remembered the lad's lair in the hills, above his father's house, and that the wind had been blowing from that direction on the day when a paper had been found fluttering in the ruins. Had no one ever connected the crazy lad with the robbery? The idea seemed fanciful, but still it would do no harm to go and examine Gibbie's curious little cave on the hillside. Hamish thought he would set out at once, before daylight came and made him feel how ridiculous it was to think of such a thing. The dawn was hardly making any headway through the clouds and the rain, and Hamish pulled up the collar of his coat and pushed forward in the darkness. As he toiled up the hill the wind was rising in angry squalls and after awhile the rain ceased and a large break began to open in the clouds, letting the grey light through. The burn, along whose banks Hamish was making his way, was coming down tumultuously, bearing with it bits of stick, clods of earth, and other rubbish. Once or twice Hamish fancied he saw a bit of white paper whirl past, but it was carried down stream before he could reach it. At last he reached the hollow where Gibbie's little dwelling was situated. Just above there was a little cascade, and the swollen waters, coming down with a rush, overflowed their banks and flooded the lair, sweeping out a quantity of straw mixed with scraps of paper.