A short, insulting laugh was the only answer.

"Sandy Flash!" he cried again, raising his voice almost to a shout, as
the crashing of the robber's steps through the brushwood sounded farther
and farther down the glen, "Sandy Flash! You have plundered a widow's
honest earnings to-day, and a curse goes with such plunder! Hark you!
if never before, you are cursed from this hour forth! I call upon God,
in my mother's name, to mark you!"

There was no sound in reply, except the dull, dreary hum of the wind and
the steady lashing of the rain. The growing darkness of the sky told of
approaching night, and the wild glen, bleak enough before, was now a
scene of utter and hopeless desolation to Gilbert's eyes. He was almost
unmanned, not only by the cruel loss, but also by the stinging sense of
outrage which it had left behind. A mixed feeling of wretched
despondency and shame filled his heart, as he leaned, chill, weary, and
still weak from the shock of his fall, upon Roger's neck.

The faithful animal turned his head from time to time, as if to question
his master's unusual demeanor. There was a look of almost human sympathy
in his large eyes; he was hungry and restless, yet would not move until
the word of command had been given.

"Poor fellow!" said Gilbert, patting his cheek, "we've both fared ill
to-day. But you mustn't suffer any longer for my sake."

He then mounted and rode onward through the storm.