Dick Merriwell Abroad Part 8

"It's against my judgment," he declared.

"Then tak' th' judgment o' Rob MacLane. Ye canna do anything wi' Aaron till ye trust him fully, as he thinks he has tae trust ye."

"All right," said the Spanish youth. "He will be taken to the old castle on the island, Aaron."

"Wha Queen Mary were kept a captive?"

"Yes."

"An' ye swear to harm him nawt?"

"Sure. I'm going to make his sister marry me. It's a way they have in America of winning a bride. The Americans like it."

"It's a way they had years syne in Scotland," chuckled MacLane, "only it was th' la.s.sie hersel' th' lover stole awa'."

"Is that a'?" exclaimed Aaron, apparently relieved.

"That is all."

The little man took the powder.

"I will do all ye ask," he promised.

CHAPTER VII.

DONE BENEATH THE STARS.

The delight of Nadia and her brother at the appearance of d.i.c.k and his companions was great. Buckhart's face was crimson as he pressed the girl's hand, and she seemed somewhat confused. d.i.c.k she met with perfect frankness.

When the greetings were over and they had warmed themselves at the fire, the old professor went out and gazed long at Lochleven, over the wind-ruffled bosom of which the night was creeping.

"To-morrow," he said, "I will feast my eyes on Queen Mary's prison. What a grand thing to be here on this romantic spot! Ah, those old days when men fought and bled and died for their country!"

In spite of the appearance of Miguel Bunol, it was a jolly party that gathered about Widow Myles' table that night at supper time. Nadia had recovered her high spirits and was gay and vivacious, while her brother forgot for the time being the struggle against appet.i.te that he had been making for the last few days and was the smiling, courtly, jolly young gentleman nature intended him to be.

Widow Myles herself sat at the head of the table, beaming on her guests.

She had a face like a withered russet apple, and one knew at a glance that a generous, kindly old heart beat in her bosom. Naturally affable, the presence of so many guests at that season made her doubly so.

Brad had been placed in a chair opposite Nadia, much to his satisfaction, as it gave him an opportunity to watch her mobile, changing features. It seemed that each pa.s.sing minute revealed for him some new and fresh attractiveness in the charming Chicago girl. He had been badly smitten before, but during that supper at the Ben Cleuch he fell head-over-heels in love with her. Boy love it was, perhaps, but none the less sincere. It might not last, but even though time brought a change, it would ever be a pleasant memory.

Aaron waited on the table. At this he was very deft, seeming to know precisely what was wanted at the lifting of the widow's finger.

"A peculiar servant you have, Mrs. Myles," observed d.i.c.k, at a time when Aaron was absent from the room.

"Ay," nodded the widow, her cap ruffles dancing. "Aaron is alwa'

faithful."

"Has he been with you long?"

"Five year this snowfall, poor lad. He came trudgin' to my door, barefoot, near dead wi' cauld, near perisht wi' hunger. I took him i'

th' house an' gied him bread an' clauthes. I warmed his bones, an' sin'

that day he has been wi' me."

"Is he trustworthy?"

"I wad trust him wi' my life," was her answer. "Th' poor lad is not over bright, an' yet he's na fool. Have na fear he will molest your valuables. He is th' watchdog o' Ben Cleuch."

Aaron returning at this minute, the conversation turned into another channel.

The old professor could not get over his enthusiasm at being there in that quaint little Scottish country inn.

"To-morrow, boys!" he cried-"to-morrow shall be a great day. We'll visit Queen Mary's prison."

"Let's all go," proposed d.i.c.k.

"That's the thing!" exclaimed Brad eagerly. "We'll make a grand excursion to the old castle. Will you do it, Nad-er-ah-Miss Budthorne?"

"I think it would be fine," she answered. "What do you say, Dunbar?"

"I'm agreeable," said Budthorne, sipping at his tea. "I've been keeping too close in the house. Perhaps if I get out I'll feel much better."

Out of the corner of one small eye Aaron watched Budthorne drink the tea.

"Then it's settled," said d.i.c.k. "I suppose we can get a boat near here.

I don't fancy there are any of the old-time Scottish outlaws around here now, Mrs. Myles?"

"Na, unless ye ma' ca' Rob MacLane one," was her answer.

"Who is Rob MacLane?"

"He i' th' Auld Nick's own!" was the answer. "A bad egg, if e'er there were one. I' these law-abidin' times he minds na law, an' he fears nane-man nor de'il. It's a' things he has done but murder, an' I think soon to hear he has done that."

"Well, well! this is interesting, indeed!" cried the professor. "Why don't they arrest him and put him in jail?"

"Arrist Rob MacLane!" cried the widow. "It's richt plain ye ha' na heard o' him! He i' strang as twenty men, an' na officer daurs to go take him.

Twa o' them tried it once, an' wi' his bare hands he near beat them both to death. One didna get over that beatin' till the day he died."

"He would have made a fine outlaw in the old days," laughed d.i.c.k. "Where does this ruffian live?"

"Na man kens. Mayhap to-day he be here, to-morrow he is i' th' mountains far awa'."

"How does he live?"

"He takes a' he wants, an' no man says him nay. Were he to come here the nicht, I'd gi' him a' he asked an' be thankit for my life when he left."