They both looked at Dickson, and Dickson, scarlet in the face,
looked back at them. He had suddenly found the thought of a
solitary march to Auchenlochan intolerable. Once again he was
at the parting of the ways, and once more caprice determined
his decision. That the coal-hole was out of the question had worked
a change in his views, Somehow it seemed to him less burglarious to
enter by a verandah. He felt very frightened but--for the moment-
quite resolute.

"I'm coming with you," he said.

"Sportsman," said Heritage, and held out his hand. "Well done, the
auld yin," said the Chieftain of the Gorbals Die-Hards. Dickson's
quaking heart experienced a momentary bound as he followed Heritage
down the track into the Garple Dean.

The track wound through a thick covert of hazels, now close to the
rushing water, now high upon the bank so that clear sky showed
through the fringes of the wood. When they had gone a little way
Dougal halted them.

"It's a ticklish job," he whispered. "There's the tinklers, mind,
that's campin' in the Dean. If they're still in their camp we can
get by easy enough, but they're maybe wanderin' about the wud after
rabbits....Then we maun ford the water, for ye'll no' cross it lower
down where it's deep....Our road is on the Hoose side o' the Dean,
and it's awfu' public if there's onybody on the other side, though
it's hid well enough from folk up in the policies....Ye maun do
exactly what I tell ye. When we get near danger I'll scout on