"I see ye are," he said. "Did ye ha' guid luck?"

"Oh, yes; you were right in saying my birds were at the Ben Cleuch. Now, if Aaron keeps his part of the contract--"

"Fear nawt, he wi' keep it," nodded MacLane. "Aaron kens Rob MacLane fu'

well, an' he dare na disobey me. He will come."

"I think he will," agreed Bunol. "I looked back, and a small man waved something at me from the back of the house."

"That were Aaron. I told him to follow ye, man, when he left, but to take guid care he were no' observed. He will be here."

"Well, I hope he comes soon, for this devil's weather is uncomfortable."

"Hoot man! Ye dinna ken what cauld weather is."

"If that's the case, I don't want to know," retorted Bunol. "This is quite enough for me."

They sat on the log, talking in low tones, until a little, bent man, with a shawl wrapped about his shoulders, came gliding softly through the woods and stood before them.

"Here's Aaron," said MacLane. "Aaron, this is the man I would ha' ye meet."

Aaron said nothing, but surveyed Bunol with a pair of small eyes that were set close together and were filled with a light of mingled cunning and simplicity. It was not the face of a man to trust, yet for five years Aaron had been with the Widow Myles, and had seemed faithful as a grateful dog.

"Tell Aaron what ye want, man," said MacLane. "He will do it."

"Aaron, at the inn there are two guests-a brother and a sister."

The little man in the shawl bobbed his little head.

"I will not attempt to explain my reasons to you, Aaron," the Spanish youth went on; "but this night MacLane and I will get our hands on the man, and you must help us. You will be paid well."

"I ha' told him that," interrupted the huge man. "I gied him the siller ye ga' me. Did I no gie ye th' siller, Aaron?"

"Yes," said Aaron, "I ha' the siller."

"You shall have twice as much more if you follow directions faithfully,"

promised Bunol, and the eyes of the little man glowed greedily. "If you are half as shrewd as MacLane says, you'll get into no trouble over it.

You wait on the guests at table?"

Aaron nodded.

"What does Budthorne drink at supper?"

"A cup o' tay."

"Well, see this package," said the Spaniard, holding: up a tiny package.

"It contains a powder. To-night you must contrive to get it into Budthorne's cup of tea."

"It is poison!" said Aaron fearfully.

"Nothing of the sort. Budthorne has been a drinking man, but he is trying to stop. The effect of this powder will be to make him crazy for liquor. Twenty minutes after he takes the powder he'll be ready to barter his soul for one drink. Then, Aaron-listen closely-you must contrive to meet him and tell him somehow that you can get him a drink.

Tell him to step outside the house and come round to the back, promising to meet him with liquor, but state that the stuff is some you have stolen from the widow. Do you understand?"

"I do," said Aaron. "But what will happen when he comes out?"

"MacLane and I will be hidden there. We'll fall on Budthorne and carry him off. MacLane is strong as a giant, and we'll have little trouble."

"Na! na!" exclaimed Aaron. "It is I that will hae th' trouble!"

"It is not necessary."

"What can I say?"

"You must tear your clothes, rumple your hair, cover yourself with dirt, and half an hour after we have carried Budthorne away you may appear and tell how he came outside, you spoke to him, and then you both were attacked by a band of armed men, who struck you senseless. Of course you will not know what has happened to Budthorne."

"I must ken, man," said Aaron grimly. "I dinna want ma neck strecht. I canna hae hand in murder."

Bunol laughed.

"But it's not murder."

"Then what is't?"

"We are going to make Budthorne a prisoner for reasons of my own. He'll not be harmed, and in due time he'll have his liberty."

Aaron seemed doubtful. He turned fearfully to MacLane.

"Maun I do it?" he asked.

"Yea," growled the big man.

Aaron was afraid of MacLane, but now he almost fiercely declared:

"I will na do it 'less I know where ye tak' him."

"Why do you want to know that?" impatiently demanded Bunol.

"Ye ha' to satisfy me," stubbornly said the little man. "I ha' to know ye really mean to keep him captive wi'out doing him harm. 'Less ye tell me where ye tak' him, I will no do it."

MacLane knew Aaron to be immovable as the Scottish hills once he had set his mind on anything, and therefore he turned to the Spanish youth, saying:

"Ye hae to tell him, man."

"But can he be trusted?"

"Aaron will na dare to betray me, but he has his whims, an' ye'll hae to humor him."

Bunol hesitated, not fancying the idea of trusting the little man with the foolishly shrewd face to such an extent.