him with the most
disastrous idea of all, the idea of taking a stroll by himself. He
took his rifle and a packet of sandwiches, and set out. Now to the
unpractised eye any one brae, or glen, or burn of bonnie Scotland is
exactly like any other brae, or glen, or burn of that picturesque land.
He had not gone two miles before he had lost his way.

He did not mind, for he was sure that he knew his direction. He was
wrong; he may have been like his Oriental ancestors in some of his
qualities, but he lacked their ingrained sense of orientation; and he
was walking steadily away from the house of Tullispaith. He rested
often and he looked often at his watch. He passed over the border of
Tullispaith into the forest of Ardrochan, and wandered wearily on and
on. The autumn sun was moving down the western sky at a disquieting
speed, when at last he caught sight of the Dell's Den, and with a new
energy hurried towards it.

At about the same time Hildebrand Anne, the robber baron of Ardrochan,
caught sight of him, mounted Black Rudolph, and rode down to meet him,
ready to drag or lure him to his stronghold. The angel face of Tinker
had never looked more angelic to human being than it looked to the
weary money-lender. He had never seen him before; therefore, he had no
reason to suppose that that face was not the index to an angelic
nature. Unfortunately, Tinker knew by sight most of his father's
friends and enemies, and at the first glance he recognised the squat
figure, the thick, square nose, and muddy complexion of Mr. Robert
Lambert.

"My lad," said the money-lender, failing to perceive that he was
addressing one of the worst kind of man in all romance, "I've lost my
way. I want to get to the house of Tullispaith. Which is the road?"

"There is no road; and it's eight miles away," said Tinker, knitting
his brow into the gloomy and forbidding frown of a robber baron.

"Eight miles! What am I to do? Where is the nearest place I can get a
conveyance?"

"It would be a twenty-mile drive if you got a cart, and there's no cart
nearer than Ardrochan, and that's six miles away."

"Well, then, a horse, or a pony, and a guide?"

"You could get a pony at Hamish Beg's; and one of his sons could guide
you."

"Where does he live? How can I get there?"

"Three miles the other side of that tower."

"Will you show me the way? I'll give you--I'll give you half-a-crown."

"Hildebrand Anne of Ardrochan is not the hired v