At that moment a woman walked onto the dock. She gave the three girls a motherly smile and introduced herself as Mrs. Drummond.

"I am so glad you are not hurt," she said. "But I am sorry about your car. My croft home is not far from here-just beyond the mountain of Ben Nevis-and I live alone. It would be a pleasure if you la.s.sies would stay with me until tomorrow morning. I am sure the car will not be in working condition before then."

The girls returned the woman's smile and thanked her. Bess added, "So far as I'm concerned, I'd love to come, but first we'll have to ask our friend Nancy Drew-the poor girl out there."

The other automobiles from the ferry had begun to move. George posted herself at the pier exit and stopped each driver to ask if he knew the man who had pushed Nancy off the roadway, or had noted his license number. Neither had. They had been so horrified at the accident they had not noticed. One man did say, however, that the fellow had driven off at once.

"How dumb of me not to have spotted him on the boat!" George chided herself.

By this time Nancy had been helped ash.o.r.e. "I'm all right," she a.s.sured her friends. Upon learning of Mrs. Drummond's invitation, Nancy said, "We'll be happy to accept your hospitality."

The man who had a.s.sisted Nancy then brought the girls' bags from the trunk. Fortunately the compartment was watertight, and the suitcases were only slightly damp. They were lifted up to the pier and several other men willingly carried them to sh.o.r.e.

Mrs. Drummond had been looking at Nancy intently. She now turned to Fiona and said something in Gaelic. Fiona smiled and told Nancy that Mrs. Drummond had asked if Nancy was the American girl detective whose picture she had seen.

Nancy laughed. "I'm surprised you recognized me in such a bedraggled condition!"

As soon as the waterlogged convertible had been towed away, Mrs. Drummond led the girls to her own car nearby. The luggage was stowed, and the five climbed in.

Mrs. Drummond's croft proved to be that in name only. The original one-room building was now the living room of a house with many other rooms. All the quaintness of the original croft had been left-its large stone fireplace, with hanging crane and iron pot; the rustic wooden chairs; the wall bed, which was now an attractive built-in sofa; and even a baby's cradle.

"Oh, this is absolutely charming!" Nancy exclaimed.

The girls were led to two bedrooms, each with a huge canopied bed and colorful hand-woven draperies and rugs. Nancy would room with Fiona.

By the time all four girls had bathed and were dressed, Mrs. Drummond had a substantial supper ready. It started with c.o.c.k-a-deckie soup of leeks and a boiling hen. Then came mutton stew, filled with potatoes and small white turnips. There was kale as a side dish, and for dessert a bowl of steamed bread pudding filled with currants and topped with custard sauce.

"That was a marvelous meal!" Bess declared. "I'm stuffed!"

"But you must have a treacle doddie!" Mrs. Drummond insisted, and brought out a jar of brown sticky candy b.a.l.l.s. Bess and her friends could not resist, and found the sweets delicious.

The girls helped Mrs. Drummond clear away the supper dishes. Then there was conversation by a cozy fire and finally the visitors said good night. Tucked under the covers at the foot of their beds each girl found an enormous hot-water bottle, which Fiona said was called a pig.

"Mm! Feels wonderful!" Nancy thought as she cuddled, giggling, down among the covers.

She slept soundly until midnight, then was awakened suddenly by the sound of bagpipes. She realized the music was some distance away, but Nancy could hear it well enough to recognize the first phrase of Scots, WhaHae!

"That's funny-someone playing the pipes at this time of night-and not playing the tune very well." Instantly her mind flew to Mr. Dewar and the bagpipe playing in his hotel room.

"I'm going to find out what's going on," Nancy decided as the phrase was repeated.

She dressed quickly, tiptoed from the room, and went outside. There was a full moon, and though heavy mist lay over the landscape, Nancy was sure the music had come from a hill in the distance.

She decided to sit down on a bench near the doorway of the croft and listen. Just then she heard a truck speeding along the road toward the house. As the big closed vehicle pa.s.sed by, Nancy was aware of a plaintive bleat from within, like that of a lamb.

Lambs! Sheep! Trucks! The story Ned had told Nancy of the stealing of sheep in the Highlands of Scotland flashed into the young sleuth's mind.

Could this truck, by any chance, belong to one of the gang?

CHAPTER XII.

Strange Midnight Whistle

NANCY ran forward and strained her eyes to catch the license number and make of the mysterious truck. But just then two swiftly running figures dashed up, obscuring her view.

Bess and George!

"Nancy, you scared us silly!" Bess complained. "We heard you leave your room and not come back. Why are you out here?"

The young sleuth quickly explained.

"Stolen sheep!" George exclaimed.

Just as she spoke, the girls heard a whistling sound in the distance. With intermittent stops, it continued for nearly a minute.

"What in the world is that?" Bess queried.

Nancy said she thought it was being made on bagpipes.

"I didn't know you could whistle on bagpipes," said Bess.

"I suppose you're going to tell us it's some kind of a signal!" George guessed.

"I wish I knew," Nancy said thoughtfully, and led the way back into the house.

Neither Mrs. Drummond nor Fiona had awakened, so it was not until morning that Nancy could tell about the playing of the bagpipes and the truck with a bleating lamb inside. At once Fiona said that the reed for a chanter could be split to make any kind of sound one wished. "But I don't see why anyone would want to go to the trouble of having it whistle."

Nancy did not reply but felt that there might indeed be a very good reason. If it were a sinister one, she certainly hoped to find out what it was!

Mrs. Drummond was very much concerned about the possibility of the truck having contained stolen sheep. She hurried to the telephone and called several of her neighbors to report her suspicions. When she rejoined the girls, the woman said:

"Shepherds will go out at once with their dogs to make an investigation. Perhaps you girls would like to hike around to watch."

"Indeed we would!" said Nancy. "And do you think we should notify the police?"

Mrs. Drummond said she supposed so, but added, "You know, thieves, like lightning, rarely strike in the same place twice. Besides, since we have no good description of the truck, there isn't much for the authorities to go on."

George added, "Nancy, you heard only one bleating lamb. Maybe there weren't any others inside." Nancy agreed, admitting they had no real evidence.

As soon as breakfast was over, Mrs. Drummond told the girls which direction to take to watch the shepherds and their dogs. After hiking to a hillside, they saw a shepherd dressed in clothes much like a hunter's, working with a black-and-white collie. It was rounding up sheep and bringing them to the man's side. Fiona said this was called shedding.

The Americans found it particularly fascinating to watch the strays, especially those with baby lambs. Once, an argumentative ewe was trying to keep her lamb from obeying the dog. She and her baby were pure white except for their black noses and feet. The girls laughed as the dog won out and succeeded in leading mother and daughter to the shepherd.

Bess, noticing a small daub of red paint just in front of the sheeps' tails, asked Fiona what this was for.