something to somebody."

"Do you know what that old thief does?" said Alan. "He sends
that game down to the city--to Glasgow, or Edinburgh, or even
London, maybe--and gets a lot of money for it! No wonder he tells
big stories to make people afraid to go into the woods."

"I hope he won't meet the boys," moaned Jean. "Jock would be sure
to let his tongue loose, and then maybe he'd shoot him too!"

"Listen," said Alan. He gave the pewit's call and waited. It was
answered from a point so near that they were startled. They
looked in every direction but saw nothing of the boys.

"Maybe it was a real pewit after all," whispered Jean, but just
then a tiny pebble struck Alan's cap, and, looking around in the
direction from which it came, he saw two freckled faces rise up
from behind the rock on the opposite side of the spring.

"There they are," he said, punching Jean and pointing; "they came
up the other side of the burn." Then, making a cup of his hands,
he called across the stream, "Did you see him?" The boys nodded.
"Slip back as fast as you can down that side of the burn," Alan
said, "and we'll meet at the fall. Wait at the foot if you get
there first. We've got something to show you. Whist, and be
quick, for he'll be coming back before long, and this way like as
not."

Jock and Sandy nodded and disappeared, and Alan and Jean,
springing from their hiding-place, hurried as fast as they could