e 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.

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 passed 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!