TEN MINUTES LATER LEITHEN, having unobtrusively climbed the park wall and so escaped the attention of Mactavish at the lodge, was trotting at a remarkable pace for a tramp down the road to the Larrig Bridge. Once on the Crask side, he stopped to reconnoitre. Crossby called softly to him from the covert and with Crossby was Benjie.
“I’ve gotten the saumon,” said the latter, “and your rod and gaff too. Hae ye the bit you howkit out o’ the fush?”
Leithen produced his bloody handkerchief.
“Now for supper, Benjie my lad,” he cried. “Come along, Crossby, and we’ll drink the health of John Macnab.”
The journalist shook his head. “I’m off to finish my story. The triumphant return of Harald Blacktooth is going to convulse these islands tomorrow.”
