"God's boots!" the laird swore violently as the thief disappeared into the trees, the dogs close on his heels. "We've likely lost him."

"The dogs could still bring him down, Angus," his brother said hopefully. "Let's follow a bit further."

The laird shook his head as they ran. There was a stream not far into the woods, and if the thief was familiar with this territory, which he surely was, he'd head straight for it. The dogs would lose the track. Nonetheless he led his clansmen into the trees. Ahead of them the dogs continued to bay and then suddenly stopped. Almost immediately there was the sound of barking and whining.

"They've lost him," the laird said, irritated. "He has gone to water."

They came upon the dogs, milling about at the brook's edge. Jamie Gordon dashed across the stream, seeking to discover where the thief had exited the bank, but he was unable to find any tracks. Shaking his head, he crossed back over to his brother.

The laird was moving slowly along the bank, his eyes lowered. Surely the fleeing felon would have left some mark in the soft earth. Finally Angus smiled wryly. "Our thief is experienced at evading pursuit," he said thoughtfully. "Interesting." He signaled to his men. "Spread out upon both sides of the stream, and see if we can pick up the bastard's track. He canna have vanished into thin air."

For some time the Gordon clansmen moved carefully along the swiftly flowing water, but no trace could be found of their prey.

"Where could he have gone?" Jamie asked.

The laird shrugged. "We have saved the cattle," he said, "and while I should have liked to have hung the pilferer, I must be satisfied to have prevented their loss, Jamie-boy. Let's go home." Calling to his men, he turned and made his way out of the woodland, the clansmen following. When they had again reached the laird's pasture, however, Angus Gordon burst out swearing.