For a moment no one stirred; then Allan braced himself to meet the difficulty.
'I'm sorry, Father; but I can't tell you that,' he said.
Mr. Stewart looked at him in astonishment.
'You can't tell me? You mean you don't know?'
Allan was silent.
Mr. Stewart waited.
Tricksy crept closer to Marjorie and trembled with dismay.
'You associate with people that you cannot tell your parents about,' said Mr. Stewart in great displeasure; 'and you allow him to associate with your little sister and with Marjorie. I am sorry that I must forbid the use of the boat until you tell me who was with you this morning.'
Allan waited with a white face until his father had left the room; then he turned to the others.
'No one is to let out who it was,' he said. 'You have all signed the Compact, and any one breaking it will have me to reckon with.'
Reggie's brown face wore an expression which showed that he, at least, meant to be trustworthy; and Marjorie's lips set themselves firmly. The Grahams, major and minor, had said little, but now Harry's eyes sparkled, and Gerald flushed, as he always did when he was trying to be brave.
'But, Allan,' said Tricksy in a trembling voice, 'wouldn't it be better to tell Father about it and ask him to let us have the boat for Neil? We must get him away from the island, you know.'
'Can't tell Pater, Tricksy,' replied Allan. 'It would be all right if they hadn't made him a Justice of the Peace; that's some kind of a judge, you know. He couldn't help any one like Neil; indeed I'm not sure that he wouldn't have to telegraph for the Sheriff and let him know that Neil is here, and it would be a dreadful thing for Father to have to do that.'
'Then how are we going to get Neil away from the Den,' said Tricksy. 'They'll find him if he stays there.'
'Allan,' said Marjorie firmly, 'Hamish and I will go. We haven't been forbidden the use of the boat.'
'We'll go too,' said Harry. 'We aren't his children, and Mr. Stewart didn't say anything to us.'
'All right, Marjorie,' said Allan; 'you'd better all go, for Neil's old boat is pretty heavy to get through the water. Quick, there isn't a minute to lose.'
Little was said as the old herring-boat was pushed off and manned, for even Harry was feeling subdued.
'It's all right, Neil,' said Marjorie as the boat landed and Neil looked inquiringly for the others; 'they've been kept at home by their father. We'll land you at the Skegness Cliffs as there's least chance of being seen there.'
The passage was accomplished without incident, but as Neil stood up to spring ashore Hamish uttered an exclamation and pointed to the top of the cliff. All looked up. A man was standing on the verge, and looking down.
'It's Andrew MacPeters again,' said Hamish.
'Let's land somewhere else,' said Marjorie.
'No use, Miss Marjorie,' said Neil. 'If he means ill by me he will give the alarm; it will be better for me to be landing while there iss still a chance. I'm not afraid if I only have him to deal with.'
He stood up once more, then turned to the others. 'Remember,' he said, 'whatever happens, my mother iss to be told that I haf left the island. Miss Marjorie, you promise?'
'I promise,' answered Marjorie; then Neil sprang on shore and vanished behind a mass of rock.
For a minute or two they remained looking up at the cliff, but nothing was to be seen of Andrew MacPeters; then they rowed slowly back to the place where the Craft had been moored.
'Well?' said Allan and Reggie, who met them half-way on the road to Ardnavoir.
The others gave a brief account of what had taken place.
'Bad luck,' said Allan when they had described the encounter with Andrew MacPeters. 'I'd back Neil against Andrew any day; he won't interfere with Neil himself, but then the fellow's quite capable of giving the alarm to the police.'
They wandered disconsolately a little farther.
'It seems horrid to have to give Mrs. Macdonnell that message,' said Marjorie; 'but it will have to be done, I suppose, since we promised.'
'Yes, Marjorie,' said Hamish, 'it will have to be done. It would be enough to kill her if she knew that Neil was in danger.'
Who was to be entrusted with the message? Every one looked at Marjorie, who became red and looked unhappy as she realised what was expected of her.
'You will have to do it,' said Allan.
'Me?' said Marjorie; 'no, you go, Allan.'
'No,' said Allan decidedly; 'it's not the kind of thing for a fellow. It needs a girl, so it will have to be you.'
'Allan is quite right, Marjorie,' joined in Hamish; 'there is no one but you who can do it. Mind you don't let her see that you are not telling the truth.'
Marjorie looked very distressed, but saw she must make up her mind.
'Well, you come with me as far as the cottage,' she said; and the entire party set off.
Arrived at the gate, Allan threw it open, and Marjorie walked up the path and disappeared inside the cottage.
The others sat down on the heather and waited.
A long time seemed to pass, and then Marjorie reappeared looking very subdued.
'All right, Marjorie?' inquired Allan.
Marjorie nodded without speaking, and others judged it best to refrain from asking questions.
For some time they walked in silence, and then Tricksy quietly slipped into the place next to Marjorie.
After a while, finding that the boys were out of earshot. Tricksy sidled closer, and ventured to ask Marjorie very gently how Mrs. Macdonnell had received the message.
'I—I—I—she was in bed,' said Marjorie, 'and I went to her, and it was rather dark, and after I had asked how she was and all that, I—I—I just told her. She never thought I was saying what wasn't true, for she said "Thank God for that."'
Marjorie ended with a little tearless sob, and neither of the girls could find anything to say for a little while.
When the boys came beside them again Tricksy walked on silently for a little way, then she suddenly burst out—
'I don't care, but what's the use of a Compact if we can't do anything to help Neil? There he is, in great danger, and Mrs. Macdonnell may hear of it any day, and if she does it will kill her; and we haven't done anything that's of any use.'
'What do you think we can do?' replied Reggie gruffly.
'Why, bustle about until we find out who stole the letters. Here we are, and we find little bits of paper which ought to tell us something if we had any sense, but we don't get further. Seven of us and we can't help poor Neil when he is in trouble.'
Nobody seemed to have anything to say, and Tricksy burst out again—
'You say you know who was the real thief?'
'We think we do, Tricksy,' interposed Hamish; 'but we don't know for certain.'
'Then why don't we make sure?'
'How would you do it, Tricksy?' asked Allan, while the others trudged steadily onwards.
'Why, watch him wherever he goes; and we'd soon find out where he kept the papers if he had taken them.'
There was no answer for a moment.
Then Allan said gravely, 'That wouldn't be honourable, Tricksy. We must play fair, you know.'
'Honourable! Honourable to a thief!—But yes, of course we must. Well, I don't know what's to be done then,' and Tricksy concluded by a big sigh.
When the coastguard station came in view a man was standing at the gate, scanning the road with a telescope. Upon catching sight of the young people he lowered the glass and came forward.
'Euan Macdonnell,' said Reggie, quickening his pace; 'let's hear whether he has any news.'
'I was on the lookout for you, young ladies and gentlemen,' said Euan. 'We've just got a telephone message from the Corrachin lighthouse sent by Rob MacLean. We were to tell you that Neil has reached the caves and is safe for the meanwhile, and he supposes that you, young ladies and gentlemen, have remembered the message to his mother.'
'If only Andrew hasn't seen him,' said Marjorie after the first exclamations of thankfulness.
Euan looked grave as he heard how Andrew had witnessed the landing.
'I don't trust that fellow for an instant,' he said. 'He would think nothing of putting the police on the alert if he had a mind to. We can only hope that he hasn't recognised Neil, or that Rob will find a way of getting the poor lad out of the island before any harm comes.'
When the young people had reached Ardnavoir, weary and discouraged, Mr. Stewart was in the hall. 'I know who was with you this morning,' he said abruptly. 'Was it by accident that you met?'
'Yes,' said Allan.
'Your boat was stranded on the Reachin Skerry,' went on Mr. Stewart, 'and the men have brought her home. You may have the use of her again.'
'Thank you, Father,' said Allan.
They all scanned Mr. Stewart's face to read, if possible, his intentions regarding Neil; but nothing was to be gathered.
'Isn't Father a dear?' said Tricksy, when they had wandered out to the cricket-ground. 'He knows we couldn't betray our friend, not even for him.'
'Yes,' said Reggie; 'but the question is whether he will have to do something himself, since he's a J.P.'
The question was not answered that day, and during the next they were still in ignorance.
On the third day it was discovered that detectives were in the island again, and Euan brought the news that every boat was watched both coming and going.
The days dragged on in suspense, and still Neil was in the caves. Rob MacLean had a plan for conveying him away by night and landing him somewhere on the coast of Scotland, from whence the lad was to tramp to some large town and stow himself away on a vessel bound for America; but the bright, full moon rendered any such attempts impossible for the meanwhile.
'Isn't it too bad?' broke out Marjorie one day; 'I think the law is cruel if it forces Mr. Stewart to have Neil arrested. I wonder how he could do it. He knows as well as we do that Neil isn't a thief.'
'It wasn't Father,' said Allan. 'I happen know that he's lying low and won't take any notice. All our people are bound together not to betray Neil, but some one has been a traitor; they don't know who. Neil has a secret enemy in the place.'
They all thought they knew who this was, but no one could bring the deed home to the culprit. All desire for fun and adventure seemed to have left them, and the boys and girls wandered about disconsolately or sat in groups talking about plans which they were unable to carry out; or later, ceased to find anything at all to suggest. Even the dogs seemed to know that something was the matter, for they would lie quietly beside the children for hours, and sometimes Laddie would thrust his nose into some one's hand and look up with his honest, affectionate eyes full of sympathy.
The weather became more broken, and sometimes all intercourse between Ardnavoir and Corranmore was cut off during the greater part of a day.
When the rain ceased, Andrew MacPeters, looking up from his work, would find Reggie's dark eyes contemplating him as their owner sat astride upon a dyke, or Allan considering him with hands in his pockets, and a thoughtful countenance; or else it was the Grahams who regarded him with a mixture of interest and aversion, or Tricksy with her great eyes resting upon him with an expression of sorrow that any one could be so dreadfully wicked.
The lad would look up with a surly expression in his red-lidded eyes; but watch as they might, they never detected in him any expression of guilt or embarrassment.
The evening had closed in heavy rain, and towards morning a gusty wind arose, buffeting the walls of Corranmore and making wild noises in the ruin.
Marjorie awoke and sat up in bed. A moment's hearkening convinced her that what the islanders most dreaded had become reality; a westerly gale had arisen while Neil was still in the caves.
She sprang to the window; and the grey light showed her an angry sea, with the white horses leaping and hurrying towards the Corrachin headland.
The tide was rising, and was being driven eastward with terrific force by the gale.
Marjorie ran to her brother's room; but a glance showed her an empty bed.
'No time to lose,' said Marjorie to herself; 'perhaps he has gone to warn Neil, and perhaps he hasn't; in any case I'd better go too.'
She hurried on some clothing and ran out of doors. The wind had swept the clouds towards the east, and an angry dawn was breaking above the hills. Marjorie sped over the drenched grass and heather, the wind was lifting her nearly off her feet, and blowing her frock in front of her like a sail. There were more than three miles of rugged country between Corranmore and the headland. It was a race between herself and the tide; and the tide seemed to be gaining.
Marjorie ran on and on. Neither Hamish nor any other living creature was in sight. The sheep had left the moors and the gulls were taking refuge inland.
At last the headland came in view. A glance showed Marjorie that the waves had not yet reached high-water mark. Mechanically she chose the road by the shore.
Now the wind was partly against her, and at times threatened to pin her against the cliff; but Marjorie struggled forward. Soon the rocks were frowning above her head, while the breakers were coming closer, rising in solid walls which thundered as they fell. Showers of spray were flung shoreward; and looking up at the wet glistening cliffs Marjorie wondered whether foothold would be possible upon them, and what her feelings would be were she to find herself caged between the cliffs and the breakers.
Yet she did not feel frightened, only excited.
At the caves she had only time to make a dash before a huge breaker fell; and some of the water swirled after her into the opening.
'Neil!' she cried; 'Neil!'
Neil was lying watching the flood quite calmly, as though it did not concern him in the least.
Catching sight of Marjorie he looked up in amazement; then sprang to his feet.
'Is Hamish here?' shouted Marjorie.
Her voice was drowned in the thunder of waves and wind.
Neil led her to a small chamber in the rocks, lighted from above, and where the tumult was softened into a dull roar; and she repeated her question.
'No, Miss Marjorie, I hef not seen him,' answered Neil. Their voices sounded strangely muffled, the force of the breakers making the walls of the little cavern tremble.
'Then, Neil, you must leave this at once; the caves will be flooded in another minute, and I've come all this way to warn you.'
'Did you, Miss Marjorie? Did you indeed? You came to warn me. No, indeed; I cannot let you stay here.'
'How are we to get out, Neil? I think the tide is at the foot of the cliffs now?'
As she spoke a stream of water broke in and ran along the floor of their little shelter.
'It iss too late to get out that way now, Miss Marjorie,' said Neil; 'and in any case it would be too slippery that the cliffs would be. I will pe knowing an opening leading to the moor, where it's not difficult to climb up. Come this way.'
He helped her along the passages. Soon they were in total darkness. The flood was gaining upon them, and the noise rendered it impossible to exchange a word. Sometimes the water hissed and gurgled at their heels, and sometimes they plunged ankle-deep into pools.
They slipped and scrambled along, Marjorie clinging to her guide; and presently a glimmer of light came from above.
'Here we are, Miss Marjorie,' said Neil. 'If you could be managing to climb up here we would come out on the moor.'
The ascent was broken and dangerous, and was in some places only very imperfectly lighted. Neil, with his sailor's training, swung himself from point to point, sometimes drawing Marjorie up to a ledge, and sometimes instructing her where to set her feet. At last the welcome daylight burst upon them, and grasping the tufts of heather, they drew themselves on to firm ground.
'At last,' said Marjorie, throwing herself down on the heather, and blinking in the sun. 'Now you can go to the lighthouse, Neil.'
'Hullo,' said a voice; and Marjorie looked up to see the laird and Mr. Graham, who had come all this way to watch the storm at the Corrachin Caves, and were very much astonished at this sudden encounter.
'Run, Neil,' gasped Marjorie; but Neil drew himself together.
'It iss no use,' he said; 'they will be watching wherever I will go, and I hev not a chance.'
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 wass 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 hass 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.
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 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! 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 glass of something hot.'
Sitting by the fire in the nearest cottage, with a glass 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.
Laddie, after looking puzzled for a moment, burst into a joyous barking and leaped up three times and turned round in the air; then ran to Neil and jumped up again, trying to lick his face. An indescribable tumult reigned, and Neil extricated himself with difficulty.
'Excuse me,' he said; 'you are all ferry kind, but I must pe going and telling my mother.'
'Wait a bit, Neil,' said the doctor, laying a detaining hand upon the lad's shoulder; 'not so suddenly, if you please; I will go with you and prepare her,' and the two left the house together.
'But Mrs. Macdonnell, Mummie,' said Tricksy, with a quivering lip, 'do you—do you think she'll die?'
'Not she,' said the laird, coming forward; 'happiness has never killed any one yet, and a little of that is what Mrs. Macdonnell was wanting. But where is the hero of the day; the one who found out what no one else has been able to discover! We have not congratulated him yet.'
'We do, we do,' they all cried; and they laid forcible hands upon Hamish, who had retired into the background with a very red face, carried him out of doors and chaired him triumphantly round the courtyard.
'ButHamish,' said Harry later in the day, his eyes bright with astonishment; 'to think that after all it was Hamish who did it!'
'Why not?' inquired Allan gruffly.
'Why, he's such a quiet fellow, one never thinks of his doing anything. If it had been you or me now, or Reggie, or even Marjorie (although Marjorie's far too conceited for a girl); but Hamish!'
Marjorie had caught some of the last words, and she turned upon the boy like lightning.
'Ever heard the fable of the Hare and the Tortoise?' she queried. 'If not you'll find it in the Third Reading Book. Perhaps you're not as far as that yet though.'
Still Harry found the matter hard to understand, and during several days, he was frequently to be observed sitting on dykes and contemplating Hamish, who shared the honours of the time with Neil.
'Only a few days now,' observed Tricksy regretfully, 'and there will be an end of all the fun. Every one's going to school except me, and there will be no boating or fishing or playing at pirates any more.'
'What about next year, Tricksy?' said Marjorie.
'Next year! Why, you'll be grown-up by then. Your mother said you must be sent to school to learn to be less of a tomboy.'
'I won't be less of a tomboy,' declared Marjorie. 'I'm going to fish, and climb rocks and ride ponies bare-backed, and do all those kinds of things until I'm ever so old. We'll have better fun than ever, now we have Neil back again. I vote we make a Compact——'
'We've made one already,' interposed Tricksy.
'Well, a new one then. We'll call it a League;—the Adventure League—and we'll promise to come back every year. Harry and Gerald too, and we'll have the Pirates' Den for our house; and we'll never bother about being grown-up until we're too old to get any fun out of being tomboys any more.'
'Agreed,' said the others. 'Neil, you shall be Captain of our League.'