Not a soul was about, so they breasted the ascent of the station road
and turned down the grassy bypath to the Laverfoot herd's.
The herd's wife saw them from afar and was at the door to receive them.

"Megsty! Phemie Morran!" she shrilled. "Wha wad ettle to see
ye on a day like this? John's awa' at Dumfries, buyin' tups.
Come in, the baith o' ye. The kettle's on the boil."

"This is my nevoy Dickson," said Mrs. Morran. "He's gaun to stretch his
legs ayont the burn, and come back by the Ayr road. But I'll be blithe
to tak' my tea wi' ye, Elspeth....Now, Dickson, I'll expect ye hame on
the chap o' seeven."

He crossed the rising stream on a swaying plank and struck into
the moorland, as Dougal had ordered, keeping the bald top of
Grey Carrick before him. In that wild place with the tempest battling
overhead he had no fear of human enemies. Steadily he covered the
ground, till he reached the west-flowing burn, that was to lead him
to the shore. He found it an entertaining companion, swirling into
black pools, foaming over little falls, and lying in dark canal-like
stretches in the flats. Presently it began to descend steeply
in a narrow green gully, where the going was bad, and Dickson,
weighted with pack and waterproof, had much ado to keep his feet
on the sodden slopes. Then, as he rounded a crook of hill, the ground
fell away from his feet, the burn swept in a water-slide to the
boulders of the shore, and the storm-tossed sea lay before him.

It was now that he began to feel nervous. Being on the coast again
seemed to bring him inside his enemies' territory, and had not Dobson
specifically forbidden the shore? It was here that they might be