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Updated: June 10, 2025
Besides, he had money in his pocket, and "what would the byes think av me if I neglected to set 'em up?" And set 'em up he did for "the byes" and for himself, till I heard McFarquhar taking him to his cabin to put him to bed long after I had turned in.
"Oh did he not ask me about my family altar and my duties to my wife and children?" There was no manner of doubt but Mr. Macleod had done some searching in McFarquhar's heart and had brought him under "deep conviction," as he said himself. And McFarquhar had great faith that the minister would do the same for Ould Michael and was indignant when I expressed my doubts.
"It would ill become a British soldier to permit this toast to go unhonored." "Will you come after this one is drunk?" asked McFarquhar. "I will that." "Very well," said McFarquhar, "I drink to the very good health of Her Majesty's army," and, taking a short pull, he put the flask into his pocket.
Long and earnest were their talks and, after every "season," McFarquhar came forth more deeply impressed with the grand powers of the minister. He Had already established the "family altar" in his home and was making some slow progress in instructing his wife and children in "the doctrine of grace," but as Ould Michael began to grow stronger, McFarquhar's anxiety about his state grew deeper.
"I don't know that that will help him much," I replied. But McFarquhar only looked at me and shook his head pityingly. On Saturday, sure enough, McFarquhar arrived with the minister, and a service for the day following was duly announced. We took care that Ould Michael should be in fit condition to be profited by the Rev. John Macleod's discourse.
He had no gift in the English language, he said; but evidently Ould Michael thought otherwise, for he cared no more for Gaelic prayers. By degrees McFarquhar began to hope that Ould Michael would come to the light, but there was a terrible lack in the old soldier of "conviction of sin." One day, however, in his reading he came to the words, "the Captain of our Salvation."
He was famous as a hunter of the grizzly bears that once frequented his valley and, indeed, he bore the name of "Grizzly McFarquhar" among the old-timers. He was Ould Michael's dearest friend. Many a long hunt had they taken together, and over and over again did they owe their lives to each other. But the hour had now come for the performance of Ould Michael's monthly duty.
His quarrel with his Queen and country was made up and all the bitterness was gone from his heart. After an examination as full as I could make, I came to the conclusion that there were three ribs broken and an injury, more or less serious, to the lungs; but how serious, I could not tell. McFarquhar established himself in Ould Michael's cabin and nursed him day and night.
Even McFarquhar had to confess that somehow his expounding of the way of salvation to Ould Michael and his prayers, fervent though they were, did not appeal to the old soldier; the matter confused and worried him. But however much he failed with Ould Michael there was no manner of doubt that he was succeeding with McFarquhar.
After a time he said, hesitatingly: "And Ould Michael has his weakness and he will be drinking Paddy Dougan's bad whisky; but if he would only keep to the Company's good whisky " "Man," interrupted the minister, simply, "don't you know it is the good whisky that kills, for it is the good whisky that makes men love it." McFarquhar gazed at him in amazement. "The good whisky!"
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