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I could not be doing that," said Margaret. "No, I could not be owning to a thing like that myself." I RIDE AGAIN TO McALLAN'S LOCKER. There came a weariness of the spirit over me that long dreary winter, and all nature was there to be seconding my dismal thoughts.
And again we started to run, zigzagging to the dark bits till we crossed the first rise, and we stood looking back. The whins were all ablaze and the trees in the belting standing out clear, and the little figures still running with the torches. Steep. Opening. McALLAN'S LOCKER. Over the first rise of the hills was a long dreary waste treeless, awesome, desolate.
But when it was nearly dark the sleeper wakened, and we left the dreadful place called McAllan's Locker, and took to the hills again. DAN McBRIDE SAILS FROM LOCH RANZA. For a while we lay silent on the giant's step of McAllan's Locker, and I felt my spirits lighten to be outside of that place.
Then, looking down across the common, Dan threw back his head and laughed in his silent fashion. "We're among our ain heather now, Hamish," says he. "In an hour we'll be among the peat hags. I've a mind tae whistle them up." "I've lain long enough in the water, Dan," said I. "Aweel," says he, "we'll just make McAllan's Locker for it; eh, Ronny?"
"I will have lain beside the fire on the battlefield and seen the eyes o' the wolves glowering through the lowes, Hamish; but, man, it was a king to this weary waiting, a king to this." It was at the drakes' dridd that Dan roused me, and we left McAllan's Locker behind us with its gruesome keepers, and came down the hillside to the burn.
As we lay Dan struck it three times with a stone about the size of a putting-ball, and a great low baying sounded, and my blood ran cold, and then the grey rock moved inch by inch, and I heard a great rift of Gaelic, and Dan went crawling like a snake through the hole, and myself and McKinnon at his heels. "Welcome, hearty welcome; whatever drives ye sae fast. Welcome to McAllan's Locker."
On the home road that day I would be showing her the road we had travelled that night of the whin-burning, and where in the hills was McAllan's Locker, and wondering what had come to the Killer, the dead white man.
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