was after it at a bound, barking like mad. "It's the rabbit, and
he's got him--he's got him!" murmured Jock, bouncing up and down
with excitement with Alan still clinging to his coat. "Good old
dog! good old Tam!" He was watching the dog so intently that he
did not see Angus take careful aim, but the moment Tam reached
the rabbit, seized it in his teeth, and shook it, a shot rang
out; and the dog, with a howl of pain, dropped the rabbit and ran
yelping toward the house on three legs, holding the fourth one in
the air.
Angus immediately ran out from his hiding-place, leaped the
brook, and, dashing up the slope toward the house, picked up the
dead rabbit and ran with it back into the woods. The children
watched him as he fled, and, the moment he was out of sight, they
burst from the shelter of the woods and tore up the hillside to
the little gray house.
They found Tam sitting on the doorstep licking his paw and
howling. He was instantly surrounded by four amateur doctors all
anxious to relieve his pain. Jock ran for water to wash his leg,
the flesh of which had been cruelly torn open by the bullet. Jean
ransacked the kist for bandages, and Alan held up the injured paw
and tried to see if any bones were broken, while Sandy helplessly
stroked Tam's tail, murmuring, "Good dog! good old Tam!" as he
did so. By dint of their combined efforts the wound was cleansed
and carefully bound with a rag, and by the time the Shepherd got
home, Tam was lying on the hearth beside the fire, with Alan on
his knees before him feeding him broth from a pan.
The Shepherd listened with a darkening brow to the story of Tam's
injury. He had heard an account of the stag the day before, so
the new revelation of Angus's character did not surprise him, but
when Alan rose from his knees and said, "To-morrow the Rob Roy
Clan will begin to make Angus Niel wish he'd never been born,"
Robin Campbell's comment was, "Give him rope enough and he'll
hang himself, laddie," and Alan, his black eyes flashing with
understanding, answered, "We'll see to it that he gets the rope."
X. ON THE TRAIL
Alan and Sandy left the little gray house in the late afternoon
and walked together down the river road toward the village. At
the bridge which spanned the stream they parted company, and Alan
gave Sandy final instructions as to his duties on the next day.
He was to watch Angus Niel's house, which lay some distance north
of the village, and see what direction he took as he started upon
his daily tour in the forests.
The estate of Glencairn covered a territory so large that Angus
could not by any possibility make his rounds in one day or even
in one week. The Clan knew well where he had spent his time for
the two preceding days, and they thought he would be likely to
start in a different direction on the morrow. They did not dare
count upon his doing so, however, and so Sandy was detailed to
give a positive report as to his movements. The next morning,
therefore, found Sandy sitting on a stone dyke not a great way
from Angus's house, apparently absorbed in whittling and
whistling, but in reality keeping a sharp lookout for any sign of
life in the Niel household. He had not long to wait before he saw
Angus leave the house and wander away into the forest with his
gun on his shoulder. As they had surmised, he took a direction
entirely different from his route of the two days before.
Sandy waited until he was out of sight, and then hurried back to
the bridge, where he met Alan by appointment, and the two walked
briskly on to the little gray house together. When they reached
it, the wag-at-the-wall clock was just striking nine, and Jean,
her morning work done, was "caning" the hearth with blue chalk as
a final touch of elegance to her clean kitchen.
"Come on," said Alan. "I've a plan in my head, and we'll have to
start directly if we're going to carry it out. Let me have some
of that blue chalk, Jean; we may need it. I've got plenty of food
with me, so don't wait to put up anything."
"I'm with you," said Jean, giving a final flourish with the blue
chalk before she clapped on her bonnet, and in another minute the
Rob Roy Clan was afoot, leaving Tam nursing his wounded paw on
the doorstep and gazing after them with pathetic eyes.
They left their luncheon in the cave and hurried on at Alan's
command to the little mountain tarn where Angus had killed the
stag, and there the Clan gathered about him to hear his plan.
"I've been thinking about this," Alan began, "and I'm sure of two
things. Angus must have a place where he puts the game he kills,
and he must have somebody to help him. The other man comes along
and carries it down the mountain to some point where he can ship
it to the city. I say, let's find out where that hiding-place
is."
"What will we do with it when we find it?" asked Jean.
"That's where the blue chalk comes in," said Alan. "We'll let him
know we've been there!"
"You'll never be writing your name there?" asked Sandy anxiously.
"He'd be shooting us next!"
"Oh! Sandy, you're a daft body," said Jean, and Jock added: "Mind
the Chief, you dunderhead, and keep your tongue behind your
teeth. He's none so addled as you think!"
Sandy subsided a little sulkily, and Alan went on.
"When Angus crossed the lake with the stag he landed right over
there by that dead pine tree, for I watched him to see, and the
place where he hid the stag can't be far from there, because he
came back so soon. We'll just take his boat and see if we can't
find it."
"Oh!" gasped Jean, who had never been in a boat in her life, "do
you know how to make it go?"
"I can row and I can swim," said Alan, "but I tell you if any one
goes bouncing around in the boat, it will be just as bad as being
bewitched by the water cow, you'll go to the bottom!"
"I can row, too," said Sandy.
Jean wished she hadn't come, but she was bound she would not show
it before the boys, so she said, "Sal! who's afraid?" and when
they found the boat, she was the first one in it.
Angus was so sure that no one would find his boat, which was
carefully screened by the bushes, that he had not even hidden the
oars. So it was soon afloat with Jock at the tiller, Sandy on the
bottom, Jean in the prow holding to the sides of the boat,
scarcely daring to speak for fear of upsetting it, and Alan at
the oars. The lake was smooth, and they reached the opposite
shore without mishap, except that twice Alan "caught a crab" and
splashed water all over Jock, and Sandy filled both shoes as he
jumped out of the boat. They pulled it up under the shelter of
the dead pine, anchored it by a stone, and cautiously made their
way into the woods.
They were now in a very wild section of the mountains, where it
seemed as if no one had ever been since the beginning of the
world.
"Just hear the stillness," whispered Jean, keeping close to Jock.
There was a sort of trail leading back into the woods, which
looked as if it might have been made by wild animals going to the
lake for a drink. This they followed for some distance until it
became indistinct, and then Alan called the Clan together for
counsel.
"We'll go just a little farther," he said, "and then, if we don't
see any sign of the place, it may be best to go back, for it is
easy to get lost in these woods. We are going east now and
luckily the sun is shining. When we do turn back, we must keep
the sun behind us and we can't help coming out somewhere on the
lake. Remember the pewit call if we lose sight of each other."
They resumed their stealthy walk through the woods, and a few
rods farther on came to a wide open space which sloped eastward
for some distance down the mountain-side. Here they paused.
"We're getting a good way from the boat," said Jean.
"Yes," said Alan, "and I am just wondering whether we'd better go any
farther. We don't want to cross this open space, and I see no sign of
Angus's storehouse. I hate to give up, though, for we must be very
near it." He searched in every direction with his eyes, and suddenly
exclaimed under his breath, "Look there!"
"Where?" breathed the Clan, rigid with excitement.
"Do you see that pile of rocks?" said Alan, pointing into the
woods beyond the clearing.
"Yes," said Jock, "but there are rocks all around. I don't see
that they're any different from others."
"Maybe not," said Alan, "but I see something that looks like the
corner of a hunter's shelter sticking out behind that big
boulder, and I say, let's skirt around this open place and see."
"Do you want us all to go?" asked Sandy, hoping the Chief would
say no.
"You stay here," Alan answered, to his great relief, "and Jean,
you come a little farther with us. Then you and Sandy can keep
out of sight and watch. If you see a man, keep still in your
places and give the pewit call. Jock and I will go on around the
clearing and get a better look at those rocks."
Sandy crouched down in the bracken, and two or three hundred feet
farther on Jean stopped also, while Alan and Jock cautiously
crept on toward their goal, and, by making a wide detour,
approached the rocks from the north instead of the west. As they
neared them, it was plain that Alan was right. There really was a
shelter built against an overhanging rock and almost concealed
from view by pine boughs which formed a screen before it. Little
by little the boys crept nearer and nearer, stopping every few
steps to be sure there was no sign of life about the place. At
last they were within a few feet of the rude camp. The shelter
was scarcely more than a hole under the rocks, but there was a
blackened spot where there had been a fire, a few pans were
standing about, and in one corner a pile of evergreen boughs was
covered with well-cured deer-skins. A fresh hide ready to cure
was spread out on the rocks near by.
"This is the place," whispered Jock. "There is the skin of the
stag. Now what are you going to do?" For answer Alan slipped from
behind the rocks, crept stealthily into the camp, and on the
underside of the rock wrote in big letters with blue chalk
ANGUS NIEL
POACHER
Your sin has found you out!
R. R. C.
Then he crawled swiftly back out of sight and, followed by Jock,
made his way as fast as he could toward Jean's hiding-place. To
Jean the time that they were gone seemed hours long. The place
was lonely, and she was afraid, not only of their finding the man
at home in his wild lodge, but even of brownies and elves.
A rabbit stuck his ears up over a nearby log and scuttled away
when he saw her. The leaves made a lonely sound as they rustled
over her head, and when at last she saw a black object moving
about among the trees at some distance beyond the rock-pile, it
is not surprising that she immediately gave the pewit call, loud
and clear.
The boys heard it and instantly vanished behind some bushes. The
dark object moving among the trees seemed to hear it too and,
springing forward, came bounding toward the rocks, barking as it
came. Jean was not much less anxious when she knew for certain
that it was a dog, for a watch dog in that lonely place might be
quite as dangerous as a wolf. Moreover, she soon saw, a little
distance behind the dog, a man with a gun on his shoulder. She
saw the dog reach the camp and go sniffing about on the rocks,
and her heart almost stood still as it gave a deep howl and
started away as if it scented game.
"He's on the trail of Alan and Jock," thought Jean, wringing her
hands. "Oh, what shall I do? The man will surely follow, for
he'll think the dog is after game." She sprang to her feet and
ran back to Sandy.
"Come quick," she said in a low voice. "The dog smells them; we
must get into the boat and have it ready for the boys to jump
into. There is not a moment to lose." She sped past him as she
spoke, and Sandy came galloping after.
Alan and Jock, who had seen and heard all that Jean had, were now
tearing at top speed through the woods and knew from answering
whistles that Jean and Sandy were on the way to the boat.
The man had by this time reached the camp and was staring at the
blue chalk-marks on the rock, as if unable to believe his own
eyes. He did not stop there long. He saw at once that an enemy
had found his hiding-place, and that the dog was on his trail.
Leaping down the rocks, he started across the clearing on a run
toward the lake, his gun in his hand. Jock and Alan realized that
they could hardly reach the landing-place before the dog did, so
they changed their course and veered a little to the north,
thinking that in this way they stood more chance of concealment
and that they could signal the boat and get aboard in a less
conspicuous place.
By this dodge the dog lost the scent of the boys and, nosing the
ground, found the trail of Sandy and Jean. Baying frightfully he
came bounding through the underbrush and arrived at the landing
just in time to see Sandy push the boat from the shore with Jean
in the bow. Furious at being cheated of his prey, the dog ran
back and forth on the shore, making mad leaps in the direction of
the boat and barking as if possessed.
"Oh, where are the boys?" cried the distracted Jean. They
lingered in an agony of suspense, not daring to leave until they
saw that Jock and Alan were safe, and then from a little distance
up the shore came the pewit call. Sandy rose to the emergency
and, pulling frantically at the oars, succeeded in reaching the
point from which the call seemed to come. The scared faces of
Jock and Alan rose from the bracken, and in another moment they
had leaped into the boat, nearly upsetting it as they did so.
Alan seized an oar, and he and Sandy together got the boat out of
sight behind a bend in the shore. Here they hid among the bushes
on the bank until they saw the man appear at the landing-place,
scan the lake carefully, and then go back into the woods, calling
the dog to go with him. Even then they were afraid to stir for
they did not know whether he had gone back to camp or was
stalking about among the trees searching for them.
They waited for what seemed a week but saw nothing further of the
man, and when at last they heard the report of a gun and the
barking of a dog far away down the mountain, they felt safe. He
was evidently looking in another direction for the intruders, and
at once Alan gave the word to go back to their own side of the
lake. They skirted the shores, keeping a sharp lookout all the
while, and at length reached the landing-place. The weary members
of the Clan breathed a sigh of relief as they found themselves
safe on their own ground again, arid their spirits rose.
Jock told what Alan had written on the rock, and Alan was so much
impressed by that achievement that he took out the blue chalk and
on a rock by the tarn wrote "Here Angus Niel, gamekeeper
and poacher, shot a stag"; and on the stone where the boat had
been, he put the mystic initials "R. R. C."
"There," said Alan, pausing to admire his handiwork, "that'll
keep him guessing, and scared too."
"What can we do next?"
"Take away his boat," said Jean promptly.
"Good idea!" cried Alan.
"Where can we hide it?" asked Jock.
"I'm mortal hungry," said Sandy. "Couldn't we eat first?"
"No food until this job is done," said the Chief firmly. "We'll
never have another chance when we know where the other man and
Angus both are. It's now or never!"
"But where shall we hide it?" demanded Jock again.
"I'll tell you," cried Jean, her eyes dancing with mischief. "We
can carry it to the burn and float it down to the cave!"
This was a stroke of genius, no less, and every member of the
Clan looked upon Jean with respect bordering upon awe. At the
point where the lake emptied into the burn there were loose
rocks, about which the water rushed in a swift cataract, but,
below, the current flowed more gently toward the fall. It was
deep only in spots where the trout loved to hide, but it was not
a stream anywhere in its course upon which one would launch a
boat for pleasure. The rocks were so near the surface that the
weight of even one person might ground it, but afloat and empty
it might be carried clear to the rocks above the cave. The Clan
considered the plan carefully, standing upon the rocky banks.
"How would we guide it?" asked Sandy doubtfully.
"There's a rope on the end of the boat," said Jean promptly, "and
we could push it off with sticks if it got stuck."
"Come on," cried Alan, and the four plotters rushed bask to the
lake and pulled the boat out of the water. Alan took the prow and
Jock took the stern, while Sandy and Jean supported it on each
side, and in this way, after many struggles, they succeeded in
carrying it to a place below the rapids where they dared launch
it.
"I'll hold the rope," said Alan, "and you, Sandy, take an oar and
go down the other side of the stream, so you can push it off if
it gets stuck on that side."
"How'll I get across?" asked Sandy.
This was a poser at first, but Alan found a way.
"Get into the boat," he said, "and we'll push it across where
there aren't any stones sticking up. You can pole it across with
your oar, and I'll keep hold of the rope."
Sandy jumped in at once, and the boat, in spite of some swirling,
was finally near enough to the opposite bank so he could jump
out. This he did, taking the oar with him. It was an exciting
journey down stream, for the boat bumped against rocks and caught
on fallen trees, and it was a good hour before the children,
tired out but triumphant, finally dragged it out of the water
just above the falls.
"If we had our rope, we could drag it to the edge of the cliff
and let it down in front of the cave," cried Jean in another
flash of inspiration, and Sandy instantly rushed down the rock,
made the necessary detour, and climbed the secret stair to the
cave. He then whistled, and three heads appeared over the top of
the cliff.
"I'll throw up the rope and when you let the boat down, I'll
steady it," said Sandy.
"Heave away," cried Alan, and after a few trials the rope came
flying up on the cliff and was soon looped around the boat. Then
the three braced their feet against the rocks and slowly lowered
the boat by the rope fastened to the prow, and by their own rope,
while Sandy steadied it below. They threw down the rope-end after
it, and a few moments later the rapturous Clan hauled the boat
into the cave! They sat in it to eat their luncheon and were so
lost in admiration of their enterprise and their booty that they
did not start home until the level rays of the sun warned them
that it was late.
XI. ANGUS NIEL AND THE CANNY CLAN
The days that followed were days of stirring adventure to the Rob
Roy Clan, and days of continuous and surprising misery to Angus
Niel. Never in his history as gamekeeper of Glen Cairn had he
had such experiences. The very trees in the woods seemed to be
bewitched. Wherever he went he was followed by some mysterious
power that seemed to know his every movement. If he killed any
game, the fact was advertised and the place marked by signs in
blue chalk. Not only that, but the very path of his approach to
the spot was marked by pointing arrows and some such legend as
"This way to the glen where Angus Niel killed a deer" would
decorate a neighboring rock. On other rocks appeared pertinent
questions addressed to him. "How much did you get for the stag?"
was one of them, and there were also queries as to where he found
the best market for game. He was kept so busy searching the
forest for these incriminating signs and rubbing them out, that
he could not follow his regular rounds. Even this did not avail,
for if he erased them on one day, it was but a matter of time
before the letters appeared again as fresh and blue as ever. Nor
was this all. He was haunted by a wailing voice which reached him
even in the remote fastnesses of the forest. He was sure to hear
it if he ventured into the neighborhood of the waterfall, and he
usually avoided that region as if it harbored a pestilence.
Once late in the afternoon he shot two hares and hid them under
some rocks, intending to carry them across the lake in the
morning, but when he went for them, they had disappeared
altogether, and above the place where they had been was written
in blue chalk, "Sacred to the memory of two hares, killed and
hidden here by Angus Niel on June 12th."
When he saw this epitaph, Angus's hair really stood on end with
fright, and on the day he found that the boat was gone, leaving
no trace, he became absolutely terror-stricken. He sought for it
behind every rock and in every likely nook about the lake,
consuming days in the quest, and was appalled on his next trip
thither to find all the incidents of his search faithfully
recorded on the rocks, each one signed with the mystic initials
R. R. C.
It took ingenuity, persistence, and some degree of danger on the part
of the clan to accomplish these things, but one could depend upon
finding these qualities in any Campbell or McGregor, and Sandy, having
been made a blood brother, faithfully lived up to the duties it
entailed. He became an expert detective and sleuth-hound, discovering
and reporting Angus's movements each day to the enterprising Clan and
its resourceful Chief.
At Alan's suggestion, the Clan took for its motto "We must be
canny," and canny they certainly were. They even changed their
programme from day to day, and in this way just when Angus felt
he was about to discover his tormentors and know if they were
human and not witches, they found some new method of annoyance
and he was all at sea again.
Once they gave him a respite of nearly a week and Angus, having
erased many signs and finding no new ones, was beginning to think
his troubles were over, when suddenly arrows bearing bits of
paper inviting him to visit the fall would suddenly drop at his
feet. It had taken the Clan nearly all their spare time for the
week to make the bows and arrows, by which this wonder was
accomplished. Meanwhile they had lived like lords, feasting upon
trout and the generous store of provisions with which Alan
continued to supply the cave. They even began to see how it was
possible for Rob Roy and his men to live upon forest fare, for
the pool below the fall was a wonderful fishing-hole, and small
game was plentiful if they had cared to become poachers
themselves.
On one red-letter day, they roasted the two hares which Angus had
killed, and cooked potatoes in the ashes. Each day was filled
with fresh adventures, and the wild outdoor life agreed with
Alan so well that his thin cheeks began to fill out and glow with
healthy color and it was not long before he looked as sturdy and
strong as Jock himself.
It was curious that what Alan gained in flesh and spirits, Angus
Niel at the same time seemed to lose. He was so worried by these
strange visitations that his round eyes took on a haunted
expression, and Sandy observed that he kept looking over his
shoulder as if he thought some one were following him, even when
he walked the village streets.
He dared not stay away from the forest lest others should
discover the dreadful blue signs before he did, and at the same
time he was afraid to go in. He swung like a pendulum between
these two difficulties and grew daily more nervous and unhappy.
By the end of June he had lost ten pounds of flesh as well as the
money he might have made out of poaching and selling the game. By
the middle of July he was so haggard that people began to remark
on his appearance. There seemed no way out of his troubles but to
lie about them, and soon wild stories were circulated through the
village about the haunted forest and its dangers.
Women were warned not to let the children stray into the woods lest
they be carried away by witches or water cows, and it was also
reported that a gang of poachers of a particularly blood-thirsty
character infested the region, carrying off game and property and
leaving no trace. Angus had been watching this band of desperadoes for
some time, he said, and knew there were at least twenty of them who
would stop at nothing.
With Angus's tale of the mysterious loss of his boat, the
excitement reached a climax, and there was talk of organizing an
armed band of men from the village to protect the woods and rid
the neighborhood of the bandits. The people were surprised that
Angus himself should oppose this plan, but as he was gamekeeper
and in authority, the matter was dropped. To Angus's horror,
however, these rumors and events were all faithfully recorded on
rocks not far from his own home soon after, and he realized that
to the very doors of his own house he was pursued by the same
mysterious and vigilant power. It was then that he lost his
appetite, and if the Clan could have followed him into his home
and seen him look under his bed before he got into it at night,
their joy would have been full.
The wild stories he told had the effect of keeping every one else
out of the forest and made the Clan more than ever free to stalk
their prey without fear of discovery. In this occupation several
exciting weeks passed by, and then there came an unhappy surprise
to the Clan, and it was not Angus Niel who sprang it upon them
either.