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I was very sorry for Alister, and so was Dennis, I am sure, for he did his best to encourage him. "Sing 'GOD save the Queen, and I'll keep well after ye with the fiddle," he suggested. But Alister shook his head. "I know one or two Scotch tunes," Dennis added, and he began to sketch out an air or two with his fingers on the strings. Presently Alister stopped him. "Yon's the 'Land o' the Leal'?"
After a time, they heard a branch spring back; then there was a crackle of undergrowth, and a man came out of an opening ahead. It was the man who had first passed them; Foster knew him by his rather short fur coat. For no obvious reason and half-instinctively, he drew back into the gloom. The man did not see them and went on up the track. "Yon's a weel-kent trick in my trade," Pete remarked.
At the top he set down the light, and pointed to a heap of straw in the corner. "Yon's your bed," he growled; and before I could answer, was picking his way down the ladder again. I look'd about, and shiver'd.
"Sleepin' i' the hoose o' God!" cried Bildy. "Yon's nae the place to sleep in! I waggit my fist, an' I sair fleggit him!" Bildy evidently congratulated himself on having so successfully "sore frighted" the delinquent that he would never dare to behave so badly again. Bildy's respect for Val never waned.
"Yon's him at last," says he, and I saw a light glimmer for a little away out at sea, and the servant ran back to the hut and brought the lighted lantern, and three times he covered it with his cloak, and three times he swung it bare, and I saw the long black shadow of the horses' legs start away into the darkness, and then away out to sea a flare glimmered three times and all was dark.
I doot yon's the end o' a very promisin' match, and the man, though he mayna' think it, has his merchin' orders." The brief bow-legged figure rolled along the lobby, pshawing with vexation, and in a little, Doom, to all appearance, was a castle dark and desolate.
There was to be an important football match at the Marshes outside the town, and the boys and men had talked of little else all the week. "Art coming, Dick, to see the match?" asked one of the lads, who had seemed inclined to be friendly during the last week or two. "Yon's a grand team ours are going to play." "To the match? Not he," sneered Hal Smith, who stood near.
But great as was the shock, it was small to the storm of shame and agony that came over me when I realized that every comrade who had been around the lad had saved himself by a rush to the bank, where we huddled together, a gaping crowd of foolhardy cowards, without skill to do anything or heart to dare anything to save him. "Yon's the school-master, sir;" and then I saw Mr. "What's the matter?"
He picked up the coat and frowned. "This is no' mine, Angus." "Your tunic is in the box, sir this is the one the officers had made for you. They wanted your other tunic for the measurements." Tam looked at the man. "Yon's an officer's tunic, Angus," he said; "an' why do ye say 'sir' to me?" Angus beamed and saluted with a flourish.
Alec was shown into the professor's drawing-room. This was unusual. The professor was seated in an easy-chair, with one leg outstretched before him. "Excuse me, Mr Forbes," he said, holding out his left hand without rising. "I am laid up with the gout I don't know why. The port wine my grandfather drunk, I suppose. I never drink it. I'm afraid it's old age. And yon's my nurse.
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