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Authors: Allan Campbell McLean
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the croft to where the cows had wandered. Snapping and barking around their heels, she worked them up to the house. I watched man and dog and beasts go through the gate to the common grazing, thinking what a peaceful picture they made. When I looked at the calves again they had stopped their wild racing and were grazing placidly.
Without being really aware of it, my eyes kept swinging round to the Hill of the Red Fox. The white wisp of cloud had vanished, and the black peak was clearly defined against the clear blue of the sky. I thought for a moment of writing to my mother, and telling her everything that had happened, but I could hear Aunt Evelyn saying, “Stuff and nonsense! Mysterious messages in trains, indeed! Haven’t I always told you the child reads too many books?”
No, there was no help to be expected from that quarter, I told myself. I was sure Mairi would help me, but what could she do? And if I told Mairi there was always a danger that her father would get to hear of it.
I picked a handful of daisies from the grass and started stripping the white petals. How did the man with the scar know that I would be sure to see the Hill of the Red Fox? I was certain I had never seen him until that fateful moment at Corpach when he darted into the compartment. I went over in my mind everything that had happenedfrom the time he had opened the door.
He had stood for a moment, wiping the sweat from his face, before crossing the carriage and standing over me. I remembered how he had glanced at my suitcase, and tucked the address label under the case so that it was hidden from view. The address label! Why hadn’t I thought of it before. The man with the scar had seen the address label on my case and known that I was travelling to Achmore.
It seemed simple enough looking back on it, but his mind must have worked at lightning speed to have comprehended the significance of my address and hidden it from his pursuer in the space of a few seconds. I felt a certain admiration for the man with the scar, no matter what he had done. What cool courage and resource he had shown, for all the agitation betrayed by his clenching hands.
I remembered how he had written in his diary after the train left Glenfinnan. He must have known there was a tunnel on the line, and decided to pass me a message under cover of darkness. I recalled how he had stepped into the corridor as soon as the train drew out of the tunnel. I could see now that he had drawn his pursuer away from the carriage in case I betrayed the fact that he had communicated with me.
But I was still no nearer a solution to the message. HUNT AT THE HILL OF THE RED FOX . Hunt for what? Once again I looked at the black, jutting peak above the dark hollow. What could be hidden on that remote hill? I determined to find out if any ships had been wrecked off the coast during the war. Perhaps a cargo of bullion had been hidden on the hill. But I could not understand what MI5 had got to do with it, unless it could be the registration number of a ship.
When Murdo Beaton came back he was leading a brown mare. He harnessed her to the cart that was standing outside the byre, its long shafts sticking high in the air, and tossed a large creel into the cart. Then he called to Mairi, and she ran out of the house to join him. He took hold of the bridle and urged the horse down the croft.
I felt a stab of disappointment, thinking he had forgotten me, but he called back, “Well, boy, if it is work you are after you had best bemoving.”
I scrambled to my feet and ran down the croft, trotting along beside the big wooden wheels of the cart.
We worked at the long, straight peat cutting I had first seen on my way to Achmore. The dry peats were stacked in small heaps, and Mairi and I filled sacks from these heaps. Murdo Beaton filled the big creel, working alongside us. When the creel was full we held it for him, balanced on the edge of the peat face, and he dropped down to the bottom of the cutting
Without being really aware of it, my eyes kept swinging round to the Hill of the Red Fox. The white wisp of cloud had vanished, and the black peak was clearly defined against the clear blue of the sky. I thought for a moment of writing to my mother, and telling her everything that had happened, but I could hear Aunt Evelyn saying, “Stuff and nonsense! Mysterious messages in trains, indeed! Haven’t I always told you the child reads too many books?”
No, there was no help to be expected from that quarter, I told myself. I was sure Mairi would help me, but what could she do? And if I told Mairi there was always a danger that her father would get to hear of it.
I picked a handful of daisies from the grass and started stripping the white petals. How did the man with the scar know that I would be sure to see the Hill of the Red Fox? I was certain I had never seen him until that fateful moment at Corpach when he darted into the compartment. I went over in my mind everything that had happenedfrom the time he had opened the door.
He had stood for a moment, wiping the sweat from his face, before crossing the carriage and standing over me. I remembered how he had glanced at my suitcase, and tucked the address label under the case so that it was hidden from view. The address label! Why hadn’t I thought of it before. The man with the scar had seen the address label on my case and known that I was travelling to Achmore.
It seemed simple enough looking back on it, but his mind must have worked at lightning speed to have comprehended the significance of my address and hidden it from his pursuer in the space of a few seconds. I felt a certain admiration for the man with the scar, no matter what he had done. What cool courage and resource he had shown, for all the agitation betrayed by his clenching hands.
I remembered how he had written in his diary after the train left Glenfinnan. He must have known there was a tunnel on the line, and decided to pass me a message under cover of darkness. I recalled how he had stepped into the corridor as soon as the train drew out of the tunnel. I could see now that he had drawn his pursuer away from the carriage in case I betrayed the fact that he had communicated with me.
But I was still no nearer a solution to the message. HUNT AT THE HILL OF THE RED FOX . Hunt for what? Once again I looked at the black, jutting peak above the dark hollow. What could be hidden on that remote hill? I determined to find out if any ships had been wrecked off the coast during the war. Perhaps a cargo of bullion had been hidden on the hill. But I could not understand what MI5 had got to do with it, unless it could be the registration number of a ship.
When Murdo Beaton came back he was leading a brown mare. He harnessed her to the cart that was standing outside the byre, its long shafts sticking high in the air, and tossed a large creel into the cart. Then he called to Mairi, and she ran out of the house to join him. He took hold of the bridle and urged the horse down the croft.
I felt a stab of disappointment, thinking he had forgotten me, but he called back, “Well, boy, if it is work you are after you had best bemoving.”
I scrambled to my feet and ran down the croft, trotting along beside the big wooden wheels of the cart.
We worked at the long, straight peat cutting I had first seen on my way to Achmore. The dry peats were stacked in small heaps, and Mairi and I filled sacks from these heaps. Murdo Beaton filled the big creel, working alongside us. When the creel was full we held it for him, balanced on the edge of the peat face, and he dropped down to the bottom of the cutting
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