le black
mare. Mrs. Mitchell hurried to meet him, wringing her hands, and
crying--

"Oh, sir! oh, sir! Davie's away with Foolish Willie!"

This was the first I had heard of Willie in connection with the
affair. My father turned pale, but kept perfectly quiet.

"Which way did he go?" he asked.

Nobody knew.

"How long is it ago?"

"About an hour and a half, I think," said Mrs. Mitchell.

To me the news was some relief. Now I could at least do something. I
left the group, and hurried away to find Turkey. Except my father, I
trusted more in Turkey than in anyone. I got on a rising ground near
the manse, and looked all about until I found where the cattle were
feeding that afternoon, and then darted off at full speed. They were
at some distance from home, and I found that Turkey had heard nothing
of the mishap. When I had succeeded in conveying the dreadful news, he
shouldered his club, and said--

"The cows must look after themselves, Ranald!"

With the words he set off at a good swinging trot in the direction of
a little rocky knoll in a hollow about half a mile away, which he knew
to be a favourite haunt of Wandering Willie, as often as he came into
the neighbourhood. On this knoll grew some stunted trees, gnarled and
old, with very mossy stems. There was moss on the stones too, and
between them grew lovely harebells, and at the foot of the knoll there
were always in the season tall foxgloves, which had imparted a certain
fear to the spot in my fancy. For there they call them _Dead Man's
Bells_, and I thought there was a murdered man buried somewhere
thereabout. I should not have liked to be there alone even in the
broad daylight. But with Turkey I would have gone at any hour, even
without the impulse which now urged me to follow him at my best
speed. There was some marshy ground between us and the knoll, but we
floundered through it; and then Turkey, who was some distance ahead of
me, dropped into a walk, and began to reconnoitre the knoll with some
caution. I soon got up with him.

"He's there, Ranald!" he said.

"Who? Davie?"

"I don't know about Davie; but Willie's there."

"How do you know?"

"I heard his bagpipes grunt. Perhaps Davie sat down upon them."

"Oh, run, Turkey!" I said, eagerly.

"No hurry," he returned. "If Willie has him, he won't hurt him, but it
mayn't be easy to get him away. We must creep up and see what can be
done."

Half dead as some of the trees were, there was foliage