Gilchrist the exciseman, Mirren?"

"Why will ye be naming that man to me?" she cried, in a burst of
passion. "Is it not bad enough to be doing that I let him tell me
their plans, and him not knowing where I carry them."

"I might have kent the breed o' ye wouldna be content wi' an exciseman,
Mirren. Aweel, Hamish and me will just be having a sail this night,
storm or no', and the _Gull_ can coorie into mony's the neuk among the
rocks; but whit bates me is how they fun' oot the cove."

"It would just be Dol Bob that told," whispered Mirren.

"The dirty slink," cried Dan. "I'm thinking there will be some talk
between that man and me soon; but I'm no good enough looking to be
thinking ye rade here to warn me, Mirren, so I'll be tellin' Ronny
McKinnon tae keep his heart up yet when the _Seagull's_ here, but ye'll
hiv a big handfu' wi' Ronny."

"I would not be having him less," she cried, a little pleased as I
thought; and then, as she turned to go, "There's a bonny wild lass at
McCurdy's old hut, Dan, and she told me where to look for ye. Ye might
tell her Mirren Stuart was speiring for her kindly, and thinking
naething of Dan McBride, for the look she gied me out o' her black een
made me grue." [2]

So Belle was still at McCurdy's hut. But Dan was thoughtful again, and
never spoke till we had the sheep in the low sheltered fields.

But coming home he was whimsical. "Are they not droll now, the
lassies, Hamish--here's Mirren Stuart, namely for her good looks, and
for the bold spirit of her. Many's the house she has saved with that
same Hielan' pony, for Gilchrist, a game lad among gangers, canna keep
anything from Mirren, and here she is among the heather wi' word o'
treachery, and d'ye ken who she will be doing it for?"

"No," said I, "except this McKinnon ye spoke of."

"Ay, McKinnon, just wild Ronny, that she cast out wi' years ago when he
was a decent farmer's son, close to her own place in the Glen yonder at
the far end o' Lamlash, before he slipped away on the _Seagull_."

"I am wishing, Dan," said I, "that ye kent less about the smugglers."

"A man must be doing something, Hamish, to get any pith out o' life.
This is what I am thinking we will be doing the night. We will tell
the Laird that it will be as well that somebody should be giving an eye
to the sheep he has wintering at Lamlash and the South End, and then we
will make for McKelvie's Inn at Lamlash and get a boat across to the
Holy Island,