Then to Mr. Stewart he said, 'I am not for trying to escape. I know I shall be taken. I'd rather give myself up to you than to any one else.

If you wa.s.s not to be letting my mother know it iss grateful to you I will be, sir.'

The laird looked greatly distressed.

'Neil, my lad,' he said, 'I have no warrant for arresting you. It's none of my business. You may go away if you like; I shall not try to prevent you.'

Neil shook his head.

'It iss no use, sir,' he said; 'I would rather yield of my own accord than be taken, and I have no chance of escaping now. I had nothing to do with the theft of the letters, but it iss no matter. My mother ha.s.s not long to live, and she need neffer know if things go against me.

Keep it from her if you can.'

Marjorie stood by, white and trembling, and nearer to shedding tears than she could have believed possible.

'You can come with me for the present, Neil,' said the laird; 'we'll see what can be done.'

A pony cart was chartered from the nearest farmhouse. Marjorie got in with the others and a sorrowful party set out across the moors.

When they reached Ardnavoir, the ill news seemed to have preceded them, for Reggie looked stormily from an upper window and then came into the hall where Allan and the Grahams were already waiting, and Mrs. Stewart came downstairs accompanied by Tricksy, whose eyes were very big and dark with dismay.

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 quant.i.ty of straw mixed with sc.r.a.ps of paper.

Hamish plunged into the stream and caught straw, papers and all in his arms.

A shout from the lair made him look round, and there stood Gibbie, soaked with wet, and plastered with mud from head to foot.

'You must not be touching these,' cried the lad; 'they're for Neil, all for Neil!'

'All right, Gibbie,' said Hamish tranquilly; 'you can give them to Neil as soon as you like, I was only keeping them from being carried away.'

'Who told you I had seen Neil?' asked the lad craftily; 'Andrew said I was not to tell any one, and I'm not going to say he is here; only the nice gorjo in dark blue clothes asked me and I told him.'

'Ah, did you tell him?' said Hamish, speaking quietly, but trembling between the fear of asking too much or too little; 'and when did you see Mrs. MacAlister last?'

A sly expression pa.s.sed over the lad's face.

'Me and Mrs. MacAlister not friends,' he said. 'Play her tricks.'

Suddenly he began to laugh. 'Played her a fine trick, though; she never find out! Gibbie steal her letters when she and her husband had gone out to see Neil home. Door left open, no one see Gibbie--clever Gibbie!'

'Wait, Gibbie,' interrupted Hamish; 'I'm going to fetch something for you,' and he made off downhill with all speed.

Dr. MacGregor was just driving home from a night visit to a patient when his son dashed into the road, spattered with mud and with the water squelching from his boots.

'Father,' said Hamish, 'come with me; I've found out who robbed the post-office,' and throwing the reins to his groom, the astonished doctor was dragged all the way to the gipsy's burrow.

'Hullo, Gibbie, you look cold,' said the doctor, taking in the situation with great presence of mind; 'come with me and have a gla.s.s of something hot.'

Sitting by the fire in the nearest cottage, with a gla.s.s of steaming toddy in his hand, Gibbie became communicative, and the doctor soon drew from him the rest of the story.

'Neil's a good lad,' said the gipsy. 'Neil knows how to behave to a Romany chel; drives away bad boys when they laugh and throw stones.

Gibbie gave Neil a present; two presents; something out of the letters.

Neil will find it in his coat pocket some day. Papers worth a hundred pound.'

'All right, Gibbie,' said the doctor craftily; 'suppose we go and tell Neil that you put them there. He may not have been able to find them yet.'

Dr. MacGregor's tired horse was withdrawn from its feed, and Hamish, his father, and Gibbie set out for Ardnavoir.

'Neil's cleared,' announced Hamish; and every one turned round to encounter the strange-looking figure of the gipsy.

Finding himself among so many people, Gibbie became suspicious and refused to speak, but the faces of his companions rendered all explanation unnecessary.

'I am glad to say that your innocence is established beyond a doubt, Neil,' said Dr. MacGregor beaming upon him; 'and I am glad to shake hands with you.'

'Oh, hooray, hooray,' shouted the boys. 'Neil, old boy, you're cleared,' and they capered round him, patting him on the back and cheering until the lad was quite bewildered.