Goat") of Flessingue, thought it worth their while
to come to the coast of Wigton with full cargoes of tea, Hollands,
brandy, lace, and tobacco.

All this stir in his own business did Stair a great deal of good. It
kept him from grieving about Patsy. Besides, the constant adventure of
the night and the lying up in the Cave of Slains during the day, enabled
him to sleep off his weariness and kept him away from the neighbourhood
of Castle Raincy.

Sometimes, however, he used to lie out with Whitefoot, hidden deep among
the bog-myrtle and small silvery willows. On these occasions he would
talk to his dog with such earnestness that Whitefoot used to shake all
over with sympathy, whining softly as he laid his shaggy muzzle on his
master's knee as if in agony because he was unable to speak.

"Those were better days than this, Whitefoot," said Stair, "when she
stood on the bookboard of Peden's Pulpit and we watched her through the
broom, before you took the road to fetch sister Jean."

At the words Whitefoot leaped up delightedly and gave his short silent
bark. He thought he was to be trusted with another message.

"No, Whitefoot, no," said his master, and the dog's waving tail dropped
suddenly. "I know you would go to Jean or even find Patsy through the
gates of Castle Raincy, but it would do no good. I am not of her world.
I am only the 'fechtin' fool.' Not that I am complaining,
Whitefoot--that is what you and I are for, Whitefoot. We have fought
before and may again. But she is not for us, lad--a laird's
daughter--what could we do with the like of her if we had her?--A
captain of smugglers and his dog, Whitefoot! That's what we are. Nothing
better!"

"_Rouch_," said Whitefoot, his brown eyes flashing and his ears cocked.
He kept up a little alternate dancing motion on his fore paws, raising
his body from the ground without ever ceasing to hold his master's eyes
for a moment. "Oh, I know _you_ love me, Whitefoot, but that does not
help much just for the minute, lad. We are at the ban of the law, and
the coastguards would hang you as gladly as they would gaol me if they
could catch either of us. Only just at present we have the whip hand of
them. They have a shrewd suspicion that the hand which filled a Royal
Duke with slugs would not be backward in serving them the same. And,
particularly to an exciseman, a whole skin is a whole skin."

Whitefoot growled at the word "exciseman," showing a set of firm white
teeth und