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Laa diagrammaa tuivanta illuatrant la mathoda. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TIST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) ^ /APPLIED IN4/1GE In j^S*. '653 Cost Main Street S'-S '>>chestcr. New Vork 14609 USA r.^5 (^'6) «a2 - 0300 - Phone ^= (716) 288- 5989 -Fa» '■» M U D f^ r»_-'^. A SON OF GAD A SON OF GAD JOHN A. STEUART AUTHOR or "THt MIHISTIH or JTATI'; "wi., o» TMl LMS • "TMI ITIIIIAL gUMT"; «TC. A tncp shall mircome him : But he shall mercome at the last TORONTO Wm. BRIGGS 1902 «»»i«i<6 NOTE Amofig tht signs of ttu times there is no more remarkable, no more encouraging omen than the su>i/t drawing together of the two great Anglo- Saxon peoples. This story of Great Britain and America illustrates the community of interest and sentiment which is fast Americanising England and Anglicising America. CONTENTS CHAPTER >• A HOME-COMING AND A PKAVER OF VENGEANCE ... HOST.L.T.ES-SOME ADVENTURES AND THE RESULT .... THE BANKS OR 0„,0-AN UNEXPECTED MEET.N,; .V. A TRVING INTERVIEW V. AFTERTHOUGHTS AND A l.ROOK OF LOVAITV v.. CONSPIRATORS VII. CONSPIRACY TAKES A NEW TURN v.... .N THE LION'S DEN, AND WHAT HAPPENED THERE IX. THE LION'S DEN-„„/,„,„rf . ™^^^ X. CAPTAIN MACLEAN SEES A VISION XI. ENTER MR. ROLLO LINNIE XII. TREASON . . " XIII. A DIPLOMATIC BATTLE XIV. AN EXCHANGE OF CIVILITIES XV. IAN LEADS INTERLOPERS A DANCE XVI. TRIUMPH AND DISAPPOINTMENT XVIL AMONG THE SHEEPFOLDS XVIII. A MILLIONAIRE AT WORK XIX. NATIONAL CHARACTERISTICS '. XX. VOUNG AMERICA AT LARGE XXI. YOUNG AMEKlCA—CMIimed XXII. MOTOR VERSUS GIG ""'"■ ''"cOVErI'"' * '■''■«»'«'< -CONNIE MAKES A XXIV. THE MAKING OF MILLIONS XXV. A MOMENTOUS INTERVIEW XXVI. A TEST OP LOYALTY TUB LA1I;D'S SECRET vii DIS XXVI 7 '5 22 2K 35 40 46 S3 60 70 76 84 92 99 .OS .13 ..7 .22 '32 136 .43 148 'S5 161 170 .77 viii CMAfTER XXVIII. XXIX. XXX. XXXI. XXXII. XXXIII. XXXIV. XXXV. XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII. XXXIX. XL. XLI. XUI. XLIII. XLIV. XLV. XLVI. XLVII. XL VIII. XLIX. L. LI. LII. CONTENTS LIU. LIV. LV. A S,KA.V«K CONTRIBUTION ,0 HIDDEN TKEASUKE A WOODLAND EXPLORATION ^EEAbURE * SUM IN ARITHMETIC ■ "'"'"''' ^"°°-f">°. WITH SOME HINTS ON RICHEs" PLAVING FOR A GREAT PRIZE . AN OLYMPIAN FESTIVAL ' ' PEER AND DEMOCRAT ' ' ' FOR THE GLORV OF THE LAIRD AND^OF NORMAN A PRECIPITATE LOVER . ""RMAN A VITAL RECKONING CONNIE GIVES A LESSON IN CHIVALRY SHILBECK GIVES BRITONS A TIP PACKING THE HALF-HOOP OF DIAMONDS REALISED IDEALS . REVELATIONS A PEEP FROM BEHIND CURTAINS ROLLO DISCHARGES A DEBT AN ENCOUNTER IN THE NIGHT NEW VORK-THE EVERLASTING LESSON A HASTY DEPARTURE-AVE ATQUE VALE THE WRECK SHILBECK AND BRASH EXCHANGE VIEWS HOPE AND DESPAIR CONtllE MAKES A CONFE^ION nrroFTN^rr-"^ ~- - TWO MESSAGES . ' ' " THE KING AND HIS OWN . ' ' HANDS ACROSS THE SEA . ' " FAGK 189 2CO 209 "3 219 228 • '33 240 247 'S5 263 2ro 284 290 295 300 308 314 321 331 339 346 353 359 367 FA(iK >IIKI 183 . 189 192 HES 200 . 209 • "3 ■ 219 IAN 228 • »33 ■ 240 • 247 • 'S5 ■ 263 . 2ro • ^77 . 284 . »90 • 2M . 300 . 308 • 314 ■ 321 ■ 33' ■ 339 « • 346 ■ 353 359 367 A SON OF GAD CHAPTER I A HOME-COMING AND A PRAYER OF VENGEANCE ■pvUNVEAGLE Castle was a blaze of variegated light X^ recalling in its festive pomp the glorious night of fifty years before when the last heir, Alan MacLean, came ot age. Thoughtful people, however, marked a tragic contrast, token and consummation of many an unhappy change. In the earlier jubilation torches gleamed ruddily on tartan and bare knee, and blithe feet tripped and blither hearts bounded to the music of the pipes. The splendou; of the great ball is still a legend or the source of legends over half a county; nay, memories of it travelled Jar beyond seas whither doting children of the heather earned them for rehearsal in the hour of dream or remimscence. Decrepit age renews its youth in telling how the Marquis cracked his thumbs in the reel and his lady, daughter of a historic house, twirled, flashing in brocade and gems, with as light a foot as the trimmest of the lasses. Baronets were thick as daisies on the May lea and of the commonalty there flocked a whole countryside' How changed the scene now ! Where was the ancient glory? The intervening half- century brought a rushing new generation with unheroic standards and unholy ideas of progress. A grasping, greedy world laid a ruthless hand j t A SON OF GAD on Dunveagle, wrested it from an immemorial race, and set up within its antique halls a degenerate fustian grandeur that was to the old order as tinsel to gold. Now after a brigade of southern botchers had completed their vandalism under plea of renovating and modernising, the new master was taking possession; and lo! instead of Highland pipes an Italian string band strumming lifeless foreign trash, and instead of pinewood torches electric jets clustered among the ivy like a swarm of fantastic fire -flies, and heathenish lights, miscalled fairy, that cast on rhododendron and sycamore sickly hues of blood. "Tawdry, awful tawdry," said the veterans, spitting in contempt. "Tinklers' titmies giving themselves the airs of gold and siller cups. What next ? " Whither had the native spirit fled, that no one in authority gave a thought to old ways, old tastes, old customs, old families, or old friendships? Where was reverence, that brazen pride vaunted itself thus? where the ancient race-honour that the records of the chiefs of Dunveagle were wiped out, even as the schoolboy wipes his scrawl off a slate ? What was the cause of degineracy? Money, money, money; men, honour, tradition, all that quickened honest pride, all the heart held dear, bartered for money. And the new master, who was he? Duncan Ogilvie, son of John Ogilvie, who, as his critics well remembered, had once been fain to warm himself in the smile of the MacLean. The patriarchs of Glenveagle bobbed their heads, moralising drearily. They had seen some strange, some dramatic changes ; ay, indeed, many strange dramatic changes, but none so strange, so Uramatic as this. Ah, dear! who could tell what the world was coming to? Nevertheless, a living dog being of more consequence than a dead lion, the old laird's tenr its were ready with an address of welcome to the new. From a rocky perch two miles away a white-headed A HOME-COMING hTh J''^ "*" °" ""^ '"=^"'= °f '^volution and gaiety h« heart bun-ting with „^e and revenge. It wl S ^iu ^/«'',°'' """j""'^ '"'^ «««" the'occa^ion of tt gak-mght fifty years before. He had resolved not to to oe away in Edinburgh, or London, or Paris, anywhere, so only that his eyes might be spared the sighf^ co„ AlTle«V ^^' ''""'^'^ '"'""'^'^ '° '•>"'>" him in small driZ andT"" ^""'"^' ^-"""g 'he heather in sheep! driving, and he was down with a sprained ankle Ian Mackem. known far and wide as iL Veg, because Tf his dimmutive stature-Ian, who was his faithfrcom panjon, related that for full fiye minutes he uj wheTe bLSsT'Trr- "'"'='' ''''''" *« "-d -der a ^r;.?:orz^::s&rvr= iTrn . r ' ^""'""^ *° ^' ^here he blundered But 1 11 just leave the matter to you." '""^erea. The next minute Ian was trudging throush th^ h.,m b-t double under Dunveagle. ?hf burdl'w^^ S than It seemedj for though the laird was a man o^ iS2 rJrrgr;ts- ^" "' '- - ™-- -- ^ - wal'^t^.77 °' ^ ^" ""•* *« "^'^^ *^ of a deer" The laird was delivered into the tender hands of Janet, 4 A SON OF GAD lan's wife; but he must needs do the bandaging himself, and he did it in a smother of self-anger. As for the pain, he gave no sign of suffering; his mouth was tight, his face grimly set as if he dared the worst and were defiant. The binding done, he took to a back room, rumbling angrily like an incipient earthquake. "Can I bring you anything to read, sir?" asked Janet, touched by the pathos of the disabled, desolate figure. "Read!" he cried. "God's sake, woman, what do I want with reading? But if you bring me something to kick, I'll be obliged to you." "I was thinking, sir, reading will be better than kicking," rejoined Janet, who was privileged and not afraid to take liberties. " Oh, exactly so," he retorted in a tone half of banter, half of displeasure. "Exactly so. Spectacles, an arm- chair, and a meek spirit for the maimed and the halt. Add an old wife's posset, anj be done with it. I'll tell you one thing you might do, Janet," he added, his eyes beginning to smile; "you might bring me my pipe. Tobacco's the only friend that's always the same." And when he was pulling like a philosopher—" So you'd set dislocated joints and mend damaged tendons with reading. That minds me of the fellow who recommended whistling as a cure for the toothache. Not long ago I saw it proved by a syllogism that books, like men and women, are not always what they're thought to be. But you'll never have heard of a syllogism, Janet." " No, sir," answered Janet, as if ignorance were a crime. "Don't fret," said the laird soothingly. "Thank God you know all about scones." Janet's face brightened. "And the pickling of salmon, sir." " Especially when it's poached, you old jade ; especially when it's poached You've made hare soup in your time. A HOME-COMING j t'°l'^'^r^ r "'"• "'" '" P^"'" y°"'« =>" artist, not ham, too, that makes the mouth water at the thought of it Yes, you re a woman of accomplishments. Janet, thoueh you don't know how to cook a syllogism " ^ ,n„71/°" ."" ""^ '''^'" ''■ '"• I'" ''y." «^d Janet modestly, whereat the laird roared to the forgetting o his anger and his sprained ankle. "It's too dry, Janet," he replied, wiping his eyes. " You could make nothing of it, for all the fat in Glenveagle wouldn't soften it. It's fit neither for roasting nor bo l£ for stewmg nor frying. We won't have syllogism fo djnne, thank you. As to the reading, let me fee— --' whir r^ °" * '■""°'" '^^^^ "^^ 'he ceiling, on which reposed some dusty volumes "There's a book up there on Eternal Punishment, Janet." mnd ."f. • f' "'°u'''' "'''^'-"'^ Colonel's .Ve. you mmd-left ,t to me thinking I needed a warning, and i've makes of hell." His face grew suddenly grim. "If it's ITnl eTer' •""" ^°" '"^ ' '"'°^' j'^ '' ^ °- "^ ancient enemy our sympathy." JhZ-"^"J'^ ■''P"" "' ''" P"' °^ 'he house, moving, »Uh Ian s aid, from h.s bedroom to his sitting-room, and back agam from his sitting-room to his bedroom, o; the fourth day, which completed the enemy's triumph he ofTa:hTh'ari;r''^' ^^^^^^ ^^^ ^- -^ ™ h ad ell fou,T T T '°^' ''"y "'her man a broken theolol " ! •■^'"''' '=°°''^^' <=""«1 'he writer on emp'y grate as in token of the burning it deserved. All strof a "^ ''T'"^ ^' "^^ "«^^ "'^"gh the little ofrankhn. ' ^"''' ''"'"'' '■°°'''^^^' *« i«<=amation ot rankhng misery and smouldering fury. ^Vhen Dunveagle woods began to darkle in the gloaming 6 A SON OF GAD his anguish became an unbearable fever. When the woods were bUck and night had seized upon the topmost hill, he crept out surreptitiously, leaning on his staff, and hirpling to the front looked down on the lights effusively welcoming another to his home, the home of hio fathers for untcM generations, the home taken from him by rapine and chicanery. And as he gazed, the set of the wind being towards him, there was borne to his ears the sound of cheering. They had come, the usurpers had come, and time-servers and lick-spittles were shouting in their honour. Janet, who had seen him go forth and lurked behind in the shadows, lest, as she explained to Ian, he might be tempted "to put a hand on himself" in that moment of agony, Janet watching stealthily while she held her breath in terror, averred she distinctly heard a groan. Possibly she was right; for the laird fancied himself alone, and was suffering mortally. But if so, the groaning mood must have passed imiantly. For the next moment Janet's heart stopped as she saw him drop by the rocky parapet and turn his face to the sky. "I thought that maybe he had found grace," she after- wards related ; " that the waters of bitterness and the bread of affliction made him know his own weakness. But understanding of weakness was never the way of the Macleans. He prayed, ay, he prayed; but his words, mercy on us that mouth of man should utter them ! ■ Oh, Lord,' he cried— and ye never heard such pleading from a minister m yer life, for it was burning hot from the heart of him-' Oh, Lord, as Thou art strong and lovest justice, help me to be avenged.' There was more," added Janet, "but I was too feared to listen, for he was uncanny, and I just boltit in by dreepin' with cold sweat." Thus from his craggy retreat the dispossessed witnessed the triumphal arrival of the new master of Hunveagle. CHAPTER II HOSTILITIES— SOME ADVENTURES AND THE RESULT FOR well-nigh a century the lairds of Dunveagle had had their backs to the wall in sore unequal battle The latest of the line fought hardest of all, repulsing harpy lawyers and greasy money-lenders, even sousing them, for sake of cleanlines., in the horse-pond, double- lockmg and barricading his great iron-clamped door, and plantmg himself grimly behind loopholed walls, musket m hand, to give besiegers the welcome of the desperate. Once he condescended to seek help, and old friends turned cold. The effect was to stiffen Dunveagle's back, to make h.m stand with feller purpose behind his ramparts, the poison of a new hate embittering the old feud. His wife, who stood to him as mate and second right arm, fell in the fray, the victim of the wolves and beagles. In the heyday of romance, when a crowd of suitors hung on the smile of the lovely and spirited giri, he had been victor against tremendous odds. Ladies in the bloom and ardour of youth are captivated by a straightforward gallant siege, and Alan MacLean was the very model of gallantry. The song of a local bard celebrates, not unworthily, in the gay style of "Lochinvar," the moonlit ride on the crupper which made the beauty of a county mistress of Dunveagle. Her nch friends never condoned the crime of " marrying a pauper," nor did she once regret it, for Alan was a lover to the close. What if she, who had been so deHcately 7 8 A SON OF GAD nurtured, fared hard? Was the fare not mystically sweet- ened? Give a true woman love, and she will return ten- fold, ay, a hundredfold, in heroism, only she must have the abidmg passion of the strong man hardened and proved in conflict with the world, the deep, absorbing glow as of n liracite-not the prattled fatuities, the sentimental 1' ns of the moonstruck boy. The storms beat upon Uunveagle, and made the young wife's loyalty invincible. For a moment at the homecoming Alan's own heart misgave him. "This is all I have to offer," he said, with a doleful droop of the countenance, and certainly the mouldenng castle never seemed barer or bleaker than in contrast with the sumptuous mansion she had left. Instead of looking round to see the bleakness and the bareness for herself, she looked straight into his doubting eyes " I didn't elope to make stone walls and upholstery my hus- band, she answered lightly. And there was no more doubting. When she dropped by his side MacLean lost both heart and second r.ght arm. Necessity made him still a fighter and love for her turned him into an avenger. But a matl beset by misfortune is as a treasure-ship in the midst of pirates, or a hare among closing hounds. When death had momentarily weakened the defences a lurking foe gained entrance to Dunveagle. Word of the black treachery reached Alan by the open grave, and those who beheld h.s face had ever after a haunting vision of desperation. As if to make the stroke doubly cruel, two sounds, each hke the cry of doom, rang in his ears together. Accord- ing to custom, the dead woman's only child, a boy of five held a cord as the coffin was let down. All went solemnly and quietly until little Norman, suddenly realising that Mama was going from him for ever, broke into a shriek of terror, at the same time pulling frantically to get her back. The grief-stricken father had hardly disengaged the SOME ADVENTURES AND THE RESULT 9 riny. fiercely clutching frngcrs, his own shaking as with palsy, when the white-faced mesienger despatched by Janet appeared, panting out his cry of alarm. Dunveagle wheeled about, the blood at his heart frozen, tor one moment he gazed in stupefaction, his face blank and ghastly, like the face of a stunned man. Then all at once It quivered m living pain, and his hands clenched spasmodically. " What I •• he cried, striding forward as if he would seize and choke the bringer of bad news. "What is thi„ vou tell me?" ' The messenger repeated his tale in pants and sobs, for ... had run desperately, and at that the livid darkness of tempest overspread the countenance of Dunveagle. "This is the honour of the law," he said brokenly, tum- mg back to the open grave. "You're better therp, my poor Kate," looking at the forlorn coffin in the narrow depth below. " Ay, much better, much better I " A httle soft hand crept nestling into his, and -n av.ed, tear-stomed face was lifted in inquiry. Unconsciously he patted the boy's head. "Norman, dear," he said, striving to speak calmly, 1 am called away on urgent business at the castle. You 11 stay and see mother happed. And you, sir," to the mmister interrupted in the last sad rites of religion, will not forget a bit prayer for us all. As God's in heaven, we need it." Again he bent for«-ard over the open grave, and hands went out mf 'mctively, so like a falling man he seemed. "Good-bye, Kate," he said in a half sob. "Good-bye my brave, loyal little woman; I didn't think to leave yoJ like this. Good-bye. You'll understand and forgive. Good- bye—good-bye." He turned to the company, drawing his hand across his eyes as if to free them of mist. i r'< '° A SON OF GAD "Friends," he said, and the strong voice shook, "I leave her to you. Do to her as you would be done by in the last hour, and God requite you. Kilross," addressing an old fnend, "can I have your riding horse? You can have my place in the carriage." With that he mounted and rode, his features wrought in a passion of grief, anger, and vengeance. If ever you have known a man go forth quietly and purposefully with the set face of one determined to kill, you may picture his look. Half an hour after he passed through the kirkyard gate a foaming, wild-eyed horse drew up, panting, at the castle door. Janet ran out to meet her master, her face wrung with anguish, and behind her in the great hall appeared a man— a stranger. "Janet, woman, will you dry your eyes and hold this horse?' said Dunveagle, with a terrible romposure of manner. He threw her the rein and strode in. "What have we here?" he cried, eyeing the varlets of the law. "Sneaks and interlopers who steal into a man's house at the heels of death. God's sake ! but you're a bonnie lot." He was one against three, and hampered by terrorised screaming women; but in less than five minutes the varlets were out, two holding cracked heads, and the third, as It appeared, bleeding to the death. Dunveagle followed them to the doorstep. " That's our plan with the like of you," he cried in a white fury. "By the heaven above, I'll ride the life out of you beside the door you have desecrated." He was flinging himself on his horse to trample them when Janet clutched him by the knees. "Master, dear, don't do murder," she pleaded. Her weeping suddenly stopped in this development of the tragedy. "For her sake that's gone, don't do murder." SOME ADVENTURES AND THE RESULT ii He drew back, the hard breath rattling in his throat, and looked at her curiously. " 'For her sake that's gone,'" he repeated hoarsely. "Ay, for her sake. Thank you, Janet, for minding me. They can go." They went crawling, bandaged and miserable, to protest agamst being sent to distrain on the devil. At that point an oily lawyer in Perth intervened. He began by writing letters which Dunveagle treated with silent disdain. But presently the penwiper set in motion certam obscure machinery which one day brought a sheriff's officer and a posse of county police to the castle gate. Denied admittance, they climbed the wall and tried a back door, which was impregnable. Then, like scouts gmgerly feeling about an enemy's fortress, they moved round by the front, and there Dunveagle himself awaited them. The sequel is still the delight of many a winter fireside. " And what may the whole police force of Perth want at Dunveagle Castle?" he asked affably, caressing a gleam- mg, long-barrelled gun. He stood before the black stone entrance, and behind him in the twilight of the great hall were ranged his boy Norman, also fondling a gun ; Ian Veg, with a hacked, rusty Ferrara still bearing marks of blood ; and Janet, grasping a huge oak cudgel. " I must crave your pardon," quoth Dunveagle, looking forth on the warlike array, "for having to ask the reason of this honour. I would fain remember the rites of hospi- tality and the feelings of men who may have breakfasted somewhat hastily and lightly. Forgive a blunt question. What is it brings you here ? " Beguiled by the soft words and the engaging n.anner, the sheriff's officer stepped briskly forward, but next instant drew yet more briskly back, for Dunveagle's gun had gone up with a purposeful motion. i s ! ^; la A SON OF GAD Better stay," he remarked urbanely, "until we have had something more of a confab before shaking hands. As you may suppose, it goes against my stomach to be rude even to self-invited guests. But if we were to come together too quickly and disagree on a chance word or act, Its hard to tell what might come of it. So we'd better begin by understanding each other. Will you state m as few words as possible exactly what it is you want, or on whose behalf you havi, come ? " Thereupon the sheriff's officer, unfolding a big blue paper, began to read. At the third sentence Dunveagle interrupted. "The name's quite sufficient," he said peremptorily. "I know all about the wee Jew body in Perth. By his way of it I owe so much principal and so much mterest, which he reckons on a plan of his own, the miserable son of Belial. I understand he got the money from the bank on my note of hand." "And paid it back when the bill was dishonoured," said the other. ' "I'm glad he had the grace to do that," rejoined Dun- veagle "I wouldn't Uke the bank to lose. I've no quarrel with the bank. Well, if he knocks off seventy-five per cent, of the interest, I'm ready to renew " The sheriff's officer answered he had nothing to do with renewals, that what he wanted was cash or its equivalent and hinted he meant to be satisfied. q^'vaient, Dunveagle threw his chin in the air. " Sits the wind so harsh as all that ? " he said. " There may be two opinions, but I cannot help thinking you've come for a Highland man's breeks this time " ^ ^ "^ frol^ t"^'" u^""' ^°°^"^ ^"""'^ '»"'' "P 'he castle Slandman'!"' ' '^'"''' ^" '''''' "' ''^^ P^-^ "I think I understand," returned Dunveagle. "By mv reading ye've come all this way to roup me, to sei^e! SOME ADVENTURES AND THE RESULT ,3 harry, and sell, just to please a damn wee black, garlic- eating Jew, who must have been wet-nursed by a she-wolf, and got his notions of honest dealing from Judas Iscariot' Am I right ? " The sheriff's officer answered in the affirmative as to the mam fact. "Well, you see," said Dunveagle very deliberately, "if you take the trouble to put yourselves in my place, as fair and reason, )le men you'll perceive objections-first, that the garhc-eating son of Judas aforesaid is a foreigner, an extortioner, and a usurer who cheats in bad English, claps thirty shillings to the pound, calling it interest, and gets you sent to make me pay what I don't owe; second, that It's part of a Christian's creed to resist Israelitish usurers and extortioners, though they were clothed with the sanctity of old Abraham, who knew as well as most folk on which side his bread was buttered; third, that 1 owe but a small part of what the Jew demands ; fourth, that I'd l^ke to entertain the gentleman himself in this matter of colkc- tion; and fifthly and particularly, that I have the plain man's dislike of being roupit. You'll agree with that." The sheriff's officer would neither agree nor disagree; he had not come to argue. "Oh, well, there's one thing I'm thinking you will agree m," said Dunveagle, drawing himself up more haughtily, "and it's this: A man of your knowledge will have heard that possession is nine points of the law, and as you have at this present moment just one point in your favour to my nine, I'm of opinion you'll agree it would be wise to show the valour which is called discretion, because I tell you candidly, as between man and man, that he who tnes to enter my house by force had better set about it by saying his prayers, for it would be too late to say them when the trial's made. That's told you to save misunder- standing and trouble. But as we like to be hospitable in '4 A SON OF GAD % the Highlands here, I wouldn't have you go away empty. I think there's a drop of old ale left, or would you prefer a dram to hearten you ? " Obliged to decline such hospitality, the sheriff's officer was proceeding to restate his business, when Dunveagle interposed. " Oh, very well," he said ; " Ian," casting a glance over his shoulder, " the gentlemen will not drink." With which he stepped quickly back, and banged the door in the amazed face of the law. The laugh was momentarily on his side, but in the end it proved frightfully dear, as such jests are apt to be, tnd added its purgatorial tortures on the night, long after, when old, lame, and impotently furious, he looked down from the clifty heighti of Craigenard on the son of the man once banished by his will, returning to take possession of Dun- veagle. CHAPTER III THE BANKS OF OHIO— AN UNEXPECTED MEETING MACLEAN of Dunveagle and his tenant, John Ogilvie of Craigenard, disagreed over a trifle not worth remembering, and the dispute waxed into a quarrel. Though at bottom generous, both were hot when their whiskers were pulled, and one was naturally inclined to be imperious. Wherefore it came that the weaker man went to the wall, overcome by an arbitrary exercise of authority, that is to say, John Ogilvie was informed, in a moment of passion, that after a certain date, already near, he would no longer be suffered to remain at Craigenard. The injured man, full at fiery resentment, took passage to America with his young wife and their child Duncan, a yellow-haired, wide-eyed toddler, who thus went forth into the great world appropriately holding his mother's skirt Then the twin satirists, Time and Chance, took a hand in the game, with results which made mcrali.''*s eloquent over the freaks of destiny. Driven in his turn from the old home, MacLean took refuge in Craigenard, a remnant left to him in the general wreck of his fortune, and an Ogilvie filled his place in Dunveagle. Fate was giving one of her high lessons in dramaturgy : putting the first last, making the least greatest, exalting lowliness, humbling pride. John Ogilvie had been a saturnine, brooding man; shrewd, energetic, sentimental, magnanimous, yet withal unforgettiiig and in certain cases unforgiving, as all good «5 i6 A SON OF GAD li 1 Highlanders are. Though he prospered on the Ohio farm, the memory of the injustice which made him an exile rankled in his mind, and often when he was among the maize he dreamud of the heather. It became a family custom when the winter logs blazed on the great hearth, and wind and snow, it might be with blizzard force, lashed the stout double windows, in the ruddy warmth of the winter fireside it became the custom to beguile the evening with tales of home and the olden time, which grew ever the more vivid with the passing of the years. As he recited the stories and legends of his early life, John Ogilviu was by turns strangely wistful and strangely ex- cited ; occasionally, too, a chance reference brought to his face the black look of one who mentally rehearses a deep wrong. One night, while the comers of his mouth were still grim from such a rehearsal, he found himself alone in the stable with his boy. " Duncan," he said, under a sudden impulse, " I have something to tell you." And point by point he went over the cause of their exile, dwelling in rough, blunt words on the laird of Dunveagle's harshness. The boy listened first in wonder and then in a tingling indignation. "Father," he cried, when the tale was done, his eyes flashing vengefuUy, "I'll make them all smart yet. We'll go back, see if we don't. Ay," he repeated, his hands clenched as if he were already at grips with the enemy, " we'll go back — maybe to Dunveagle itself." John Ogilvie smiled as one smiles at a bright impossi- bility. Nevertheless, his face glowed in a pleasure of anticipation. "That wouldn't be easy. Dunk," he returned slowly. " At home in Scotland I was taught not to put my trust in money. I won't say the lesson was wrong, though if I had had a little more ready money at the critical moment, THE BANKS OF OHIO •7 It would take a heap of siller to do we mightn't be here, what you speak of." "We'll get the siller, father," returned Duncan, with the quick assurance of youth ; " we'll get the siller." He ran to his mother, who was preparing a plain Scots supper, for they cherished their Scottish tastes and habits. " Mother." he cried eagerly, " how would you like to go back to Craigenard?" She turned on him a startled face. " Ladd'.e," she demanded, " what are ye havering about ? If I had but a sprig of heather from Craigenard or a trout out of the Veagle water, I'd count myself happy. Dunkie, dear, what's been turning your head? I'm afraid we've seen for the last time the bloom on the hills of Craigenard and the sun shining on the bonnie woods of Dunveagle." And she bent abruptly forward to stir the porridge, her face twitching. Half that night the boy lay dreaming, Craigenard and Dunveagle mingling feverishly in his visions. What he wanted was money; money, the mighty magician that seemed to perform all the wonders of the world. By scraping the family could furnish perhaps a hundred dollars in ready cash. That would not even suffice for their passage back. He must make money, and make it speedily, not merely enough for a voyage home, but a huge fortune. Withm a fortnight he was a junior clerk in the freight department of a great American railroad, at the dazzling salary of three dollars a week. An observant freight agent saw, noted, and commented. " I reckon the youngster'!! do," he said, expectorating half a pint of liquid tobacco by way of emphasis. " Yes, sir, I reckon he'll do." The prediction was so much to the point that in five years the youngster was directing the policy of that freight agent. For ten more he tossed and jostled in i8 A SON OF GAD i the strife for place, passing to and fro from one railway to another with varying fortune and some trying experi- ences. Midway up he grew impatient, and was tempted to take a hand in a Wall Street gamble. The " boom " burst with sudden and disastrous effects. One evening Duncan 0(?ilvie accounted himself a moderately rich man, the next he >.•« penniless. " Lo"t everything," he remarked quietly, lighting a cigar. " Well, w.' must see how we are to take it out of Wall Street yet." A man who takes reverses in that spirit may be beaten o.ice or twenty times, but he is not to be conquered. "You bet Ogilvie'U have the aces yet, and don't you forget it," said a fortunate " bear " admiringly. "I know the man that plays to win." And again the prophecy was fulfilled. Time passed, and there came a gigantic schemr jf reorganisation from which Duncan Ogilvie emerged as president of his original railroad, with a fortune, a mansion in Fifth Avenue, and a name among the world's financiers. Some of his old comrades noted that the announcement was made exactly thirty years from the day on which he wrote his first way-bill. His assumption of power inaugurated a new policy in railway finance. Before it was division— now it was unity. The railroads had been cut-throat competitors ; it was his to make them allies. Entering into fraternal alliance with other presidents, he devised a "bull campaign" such as Wall Street had never before seen. The combination bought " for control," the public accepted the lead, and the organiser found himself with more millions than even his financial genius could use. "I have taken it out of Wall Street," he said, with a chuckle, smoking his cigar placidly as he had smoked it in the day of ruin. "That little lesson twelve years ago has been worth as many millions to me. If you would THE BANKS OF OHIO ,9 succeed, pray the gods to slap you in the face as a start. It makes you fight the better." Those who envied his success, those who were dazzled by his manipulations not only in Wall Street, Nev York but m Capel Court, London, little guessed that the first inspiration in the career of wealth came from a rocky bit of moorland on the hill-face above the Veagle water It was his own opinion that but for his father's story that night in the stable he would never have quitted the Ohio farm. From such obscure incentives spring world-movine events. " WTien the full tide of prosperity came, his riches grew by the compound process which Providence reserves for the gratification of millionaires. Every move meant tnumph and loads of gold; but in the absorbing game of fottune-makmg he never forgot his father's tale or the place he had left. So it came that when at last the law ousted Alan MacLean from Dunveagle, a firm of London solicitors bought the estate for Duncan Ogilvie-a master- stroke of the great dramatist. John Ogilvie did not live to see that consummation of a wild dream, but his wife did. "Well, mother dear, Dunveagle at last," said the new laird when the hubbub of welcome was over on the night of the home-coming. "My son, my son," she cried, "if those that are gone could but see this ! ' and she could say no more. As a girt she lad been privileged to peep on tiptoe at the grandeur of that gay gathering half a century before when Alan MacLean shone a jubilant hero. Now MacLean crouched like a hurt eagle on his rock above and his castle was hers, to do in as she wished. Was she thrilled by a gratified pride? elated by a triumph that avenged all wrongs? If so, the expression of her emotion was singular, for stealing off for a little by herself she wept as in grief or pain. »o A SON OF GAD A little later her granddaughter took her joyously to a sumptuous bedroom, caressed her tenderly, babbling the while like a gleeful child, and left her. To Miss Constance Ogilvie the fairy godmother was veritably throwing open the doors of enchanted castles. The whole air was charmed; the whole world radiant. Not that she was vaingloriously intoxicated; but it happened that she was young, eager, romantic, human, intensely human. Where- fore her pulses danced giddily in the realisation of a delectable dream. The elder woman had different thoughts and feelings. With a mother's pride she delighted in the splendid success of a son who had the admiration of the admired and the envy of the envied. But not the richest upholstery, nor the costliest lace, nor the softest down, nor troops of servants, nor even filial love, could altogether satisfy the heart that looked back. She went to bed, but could not sleep ; for fifty years were unrolled before her mind's eye. She saw herself with short skirts and blown hair running about the braes. She saw her father and mother, her sister, her brother, her husband, young and lithe, now gone, all gone. She went again the bosky way by the Veagle side, where, on a never-to-be-forgotten summer evening, among the hazels, she heard the word that sends a quiver through the maiden heart. She saw herself going home a bride to Craigenard, and leaving it forlorn, a wondering boy holding tightly to her d ss. And at that last vision she could lie no longer. Rising as from awesome dreams, she cast a cloak about her shoulders and sat down by the window. In the glimmering summer night she could discern the dark outline of Craigenard through an opening in the woods, and as she gazed with dimmed eyes she would have given Dun- veagle ten times over for one hour on that craggy height with those who once made her happy there. She forgot where or how she sat. She did not know that tears rained AN UNEXPECTED MEETING j, on the sable trimmings of the cloak, nor how long she had gazed, when she was startled by the sudden rustling of bushes below her window, as if someone were pushing through the shrubbery. She drew back, mindful of her dress, and half intendi.g to call her son. But while she hesitated, there came the sound of voices, and, looking out again, she saw Duncan face to face with the intruder. CHAPTER IV i >\ A TRYING INTERVIEW LIKE his mother, and for similar reasons, Duncan rf Ogilvie also was unable to sleep. He therefore dressed and stole out alone in the hushed hour before the dawn to prove to himself that he was not lost in a world of hallucinations. For it was hard to believe in the reality of this crowning of a life's ambition, this strange feeling of lordship that was partly joyful, partly eerie, \ne wholly new. It is perhaps given to one man in every hundred millions of the race to turn the dreams of youth to actuality on the confines of old age. Strength, daring, and good fortune are needed, and of the happy con- junction Fate is a niggard. Neverthele-, she has her favourites, whom the seneschal Luck attends in all their ways, so that their footprints are records of victory. Duncan Ogilvie had outdone his utmost ambition, yet the habit of success had not prepared him for the singular feeling of mingled awe and gladness which now made a turmoil in his breast. Was the place towards which he had through so many tumultuous years been striving at last verily his? Were these in very truth Dunveagle woods, lying like blurred clouds to the skyline? Was that the mystic crooning of the Veagle water like the dying echo of a far-off chant in his ear? Had the boyish word come true, then ? A TRYING INTERVIEW ,3 "'An Iktie Ikt linki »/ Fmlk > ' skt tritd, ' Or art Ikiy til Crtott of Du? Or lit htHHit wotdi ef Warrttk hlaJ, That I St fain muU ui I ' " The rhyme recalled an old dream. On the night before leaving Craigenard his mother dreamed a dream, which she related in this wise — " The Veagle water was in spate and came roaring down past Craigenard. Duncan fell in and was carried away. I ran with all my might by the waterside, keeping him in sight, and I saw him going on, on down past Dunveagle Castle till he was lost in the big river below. And at that I woke, dripping with fright, and couldn't go to sleep again. Next day, being troubled, I told my dream to a wise woman, old Kirsty of the Ness, long since gone home, the dear body, for I was thinking it boded il', and indeed ill our affairs were then going. ' Was the water clear or drumlie?' says she. 'That w i tiic queer thing,' said I. 'Though it was in spate, it was clear as a well in the rock." ' Then,' says she, ' honey, if God grant you days, you'll be a proud woman yet, for Duncan will own every foot of land you saw him floating by.'" And, wonderful to think, when Kirsty had long been dust her word was fulfilled. Every foot of the land was his. That was the thought that was so hard to accept, or accepting, to realise. To satisfy a sudden yearning unlike anything he had ever felt before, he had stolen out into the dew for a little quiet meditation while the castle slept. The sun was already up, kindling the great heights, ben after ben, with a fire that spread before his eyes till the upper woods of Dunveagle glowed in a crimson deluge. Leaning against the bole of a big beech, he gazed enchanted. Yes, there were things here which money could not buy, a charm not to be reckoned in dollars nor locked in strong- 24 A SON OF GAD in rooms as security; perfume too rare for the market pictures above the ken of art, poetry beyond the ^'s men. , ." '"' '^"'^ ""'^ "^"^hed at him for a ^ i rnental des.re to be buried among the moors; would the scoffers could see the colours dashed along the slope! and breathe the incense of Dunveagle at dawn - ^ A hare, foraging for breakfast, squatted a moment its ears cocked, looking at him as if to ask the r^ron fo an unjusffiable intrusion; a rabbit came nibbH g ^ feet a cock-pheasant almost brushed him with Is wing -h.s hare, his rabbit, his pheasant. The sweetness of possession thrilled through him. Dunveagle n the dewy summer dawn was paradise, an enlarged and glorified Ede7 and It was h,s, his after years of hard'toil and'plltg ' Yet m that very moment there rose from the depths of his joy a wave of sadness. '^ ■' If only she were here," he said to himself. " If only she were here," and looked with a new sentiment on the possessions spread out to the morning light batS a'nl l^r^SJ:^^^ T ^T^ "^^ ^^' ^ with him oc 7^ ^^^ ^"^ =he had stepped sotes the "TS' "1 '""'"''• ^"'^"^'"^ -''^ ~'y femrnin. ' ^'"' °^ ^'' ^"'^'^nce, bringing h^h at'and '"'° f '•™^^' ''^^P'"^ ^ ^-^ ^P°^in whenTh'' K Z"' '^''"'"^ ''"Sht pictures of the time rx^roft -r^r^^ '° - - — . ^n A boy and girl came to them; the boy went and hi, mo*er pined and began to look far beyond D«" One evening Ogilvie returned home to tell her he had made another million, but that night she cared no mo'e Snt "^'th hr" ^'^^ ■'"""'^ "p •'■^ -^-^ -^ could nor !^ ''°. ' """"P'^S "P "'^'' because he could not drop out of the competition. But the keen edge Of py was dulled, the ravishing delight gonf No"" A TRYING INTERVIEW ^j as he thought of what might n.ve been, a sharp pain smote through h.m. In t: . worst of .;,j strife no man had ever seen Duncan OgWk flinch or blench, but any- one beholdmg him in that r.or^en; un,.er the beech tree wou d have marked a face pathetically unlike the one familiar to the world. He lifted his eyes to the upper spaces aflood with rosy light, and the simple old faith came back. Who knew : she might be there, nay, she might be nearer, hinking his thoughts, sharing his sadness and his satis- 7T\ "'*' '" *'' "'°°'^- ^l^^" « sudden rustling of bushes made him start, half in awe, half in surprise His mother watching above did not hear the challenge, but she heard the response. _ "A ghost, sir, a ghost," came in the northern accent. A poor feckless phantom, haunting scenes of past happi- ness That's all. He craves forgiveness for the intrusion and the trespass. It's but the whim of an old man, hover- ing tor a last peep where he once went unquestioned " A shaft of light picked him out as he spoke, and Mrs. Ogilvie peering down, uttered a stifled exclamation, for through all the disguises of time and the wreckage of misfortune she recognised MacLean. "Dunveagle," she said in a gasp, giving the old name, and It seemed she must swoon from excitement. But the next instant she was dressing with frantic haste. In the days of her poverty she had learned to dress quickly but It IS doubtful if she ever dressed more quickly thari now. With a hood over the hair to save time, and the big cloak wrapped tightly about her, she went breath- lessly downstairs, and in another minute was beside her son. At the sight of a lady McLean raised his bonnet Dowmg ceremoniously. "You don't know me, sir," she said, her voice husky with emotion. *" A SON OF GAD "Madam," was the answer, "the light is uncertain, and one s eyes don't improve with age." She took a step forward. "Will you shake hands with John Ogilvie's widow?" she asked. He winced as if struck across the face. "John Ogilvie's widow," he repeated; "John Ogilvie's widow, and then hurriedly, as if covering a breach of manners, "Will John Ogilvie's widow shake hands with me? She held out her hand, and he bent over it with elaborate old-world gallantry. "It is an honour, madam, which I did not expect this morning," he remarked, lifting his head, "and I wish It was John Ogilvie's wife instead of his widow He went away bearing me a grudge; he might be re- joiced now to find how tartly the fates have made retaliation. There's nothing in this world, madam, but revolution, and the stinging of the wheel as it spins Im so used to buffeting and trampling, I would fain have him here to enjoy the full measure of his triumph » "You speak bitterly," said Mrs. Ogilvie, instinctively drawing back. "It was not for bitterness I mentioned John Ogilvie's name." ^ "I trust you will accept my apologies," he returned. We are enjoined to speak no ill of the dead. Besides I have a hkmg for naked truth, and John Ogilvie was a good man." "On my own behalf and my mother's, I thank you for that, said Ogilvie warmly. ".Sir,'' responded MacLean, "I have been guilty of folly of pridefu' things that it's no comfort to call to mind; but if any man said I lied, I'd give him a florin's worth for his groat, old as I am. In spite of old disputes and differences, I say John Ogilvie was a good man. 1 A TRYING INTERVIEW ,7 I take it I have the honour to address his son and my successor." Ogilvie bowed. "I congratulate you," pursued MacLean. "Once upon a time I could have welcomed you to Dunveagle, but Fortune has deprived me of that privilege. Now " "It is my privilege to welcome you," struck in Ogilvie. "Thank you," returned the old man; "and may I remark without offence that times are changed when It IS the privilege of any man to welcome MacLean to Dunveagle ? " In spite of him, there came the haughty, defiant ring of the fighting chieftain. "But, doubtless," he went on, "you have observed that life IS often satirical with the best of us. Madam, pardon me, but I fear you may get a chill. The dews are heavy with us, and I perceive your slippers are thin. If you will accept my apologies for a most unwarranted intrusion, which I deeply regret, I will not detain you any longer. I wouldn't be here were it not that old hearts have strange likings for old ways and old feet follow them." The bonnet went up in farewell salute, and he was turning into the woods when Ogilvie spoke. "Mr. MacLean," he said, "I would not have you go like that. For the moment at least let us forget the past. I can well understand why you are here; and since we have the good fortune to meet, may I have the honour of receiving you as my guest ? " MacLean bowed politely, yet with the proud dignity of the fallen chief. "After I have had the honour of receiving you," he returned. "Madam," turning to Mrs. Ogilvie, "I think you must know the way to Craigenard. You shall be welcome at any time you may be pleased to visit it." And with a sweep of the glengarry he disappeared. CHAPTER V h ! I AFTERTHOUGHTS AND A PROOF OF LOYALTY ■jy/TACLEAN climbed back to his rocks in an ire J.V.I equally oblivious of age, obstacles, and sprained ankle. He had descended in a frenzied brooding upon rum to have a last look at his lost inheritance, but had not counted on being caught and tricked into a show of amity with the usurpers. "To think of making an ass of myself like thati" he muttered again and again. "What a doitered, infatuated old :ciot I must be getting!" and each repetition was a fresh stmg. Smoke from the domestic hearth was already curling peacefully against the morning sky when he drew near to Craigenard. Ian Veg, who thought his master still cosy in bed, was startmg hiUward with crook and dog, but spying the laird, turned in surprise for explanation. "You are out early the day, sir," he cMled affably, at the same time giving a deferential salute of the cap. The laird wiped a drenched forehead; the observant Ian noted that feet and legs were also drenched, and knew there had been wading through long grass. " Wonderful wit ! " returned the laird tartly. "What, sir?" Ian asked innocently. "To discover at five in the morning that it's early in the day. You'll be finding out next that the moon shines at night, that water runs downhill, and other marvels." 38 A PROOF OF LOYALTY jg Ian opened his eyes in a keener scrutiny of his master's face. To all appearance the man was perfectly sober, but what had made him savage ? "Since you know so much, perhaps you can tell me if breakfast's ready," said the laird. "I've an appetite for useful knowledge at the moment." *'I will not be able to say just offhand, sir," replied Ian, but I'll see," and turned on his heel in search of Janet. "The laird's gone clean daft," he cried, bouncing into the kitchen a minute later, "an's dancin' like a hen on a hot gnddle. D'ye understand plain words ? " he demanded as Janet stared. " Dunveagle's dancin' ! " ' "He's blither than some folk I could name," retorted Janet. " What's he dancin' for ? " " I give ye leave to go and ask," rejoined Ian ; " but one thmg I may tell ye, he's skreighin' for breakfast." Janet glanced at the ancient eight-day clock. " It's not breakfast-time," she said, unmoved. "Just go and tell him," suggested Ian, "and I'll watch the ploy." Janet knew her husband j she also knew the laird Therefore, instead of wasting time and breath en the foohshness of man, she turned, like a gener : in the crisis of battle, to her lieutenant. "Maggie," she said good-humouredly, "whip you out for some fresh eggs. I'll see to the kettle." Then she returned to Ian. "Wash yourself, Ian Veg Mackem," she said, with authority; "you'll have to wait on the laird, for me and Maggie's got other things to do." But for one small circumstance Ian would promptly have told her to go to Hades. He had been married thirty years, and experionce had long since taught him to dis- criminate between the orders that might be disregarded 30 A SON OF GAD ; 'i and the orders that must be obeyed. Accordingly, when the laird sat down to breakfast, Ian was dutifully, if rather starchily, in attendance. The laird cast a scowling glance over the table ; then he looked at Ian. " The new gentry's coming to call on me," he said, with the rumble of thunder in his voice. Ian heard like a statue. " The new gentry's coming to call on me," repeated the laird; and still ^an gave as little response as a deaf mute. "Ye damn fool, d'ye hear what I'm telling your" roared the laird, seizing an egg as if to use it for a missile. "If ye throw it at me, sir," remarked Ian, "I'm no sure ye can have another. The hens iss layin' wild." The laird set down the egg and repeated the informa- tion about the new gentry. lan's face became a study in the sublimity of its indifference. " Ian Veg Mackem," cried the laird murderously, " your insolence will drive me to give you what you deserve ! " " It's no for me to say against your pleasure, sir, but you will be the only man in the country that could do it," returned Ian, making a pretence of arranging dishes on the table. " I hate an obstinate devil of a wooden post where I expected a man," said the laird. " It's disappointing," owned Mackem coolly. " Ian Veg," cried the laird, " I see you're in league with the rest to drive me mad ! I have to repeat that the new gentry's coming to see me." " It iss no concern of mines at all, sir, what the new gentry will do or not do," responded Ian Veg. " They can come to Craigenard if you want them, or they can go to Jerusalem if it suits them better; ay, or they can break their neck.? over a crag, or droon themselves in the Veagle water, just as they like. It will not be for me to poke my nose in." A PROOF OF LOYALTY 3, " But it's for you to listen when I speak." "And that's just what I wass doing, sir." "And it's for you to speak as well as listen when I wish you pursued the laird explosively. "Will you tell me if you hear that?" "I hear so much of one thing and another that whiles I wish I wass dead too, and not listening at all." "Then you've only to go on a little further as you're domg to get your wish," retorted the laird. "The new gentry are coming to see me, and I want you to make thmgs ready." Im^^^ "^* ^^""^'' ^^"^'^ °^"^'^' ''^ "''"''■"&" said "What of that?" demanded the laird. "Oh! just thoughts of my own, sir," answered Ian- "that iss all." ' "Well, take care they don't get out," counselled the laird. As to the new gentry, their name is Ogilvie, and I want you to understand that when they come to pay your master a visit you'll stand behind and do what you ought to do and stop your sniffing, you infernal wild cat. Do you hear that ? " "I'm afraid the salmon will be cold and the eggs too sir, If you don't begin," said Ian gravely. "It's not to-day or yesterday too that Ian Veg learned his place. When will the pock-the gentry be coming, sir?" "Perhaps this afternoon, perhaps to-morrow, perhaps next day." "^ '^ Ian considered with the air of a man of many engaEe- ments. ° ° he'lid '" ^^ ''"'^ '" "'^ '''" ""^ """^^ '^^'' ^'"^ "linking," "Why," cried the laird, altering his tone, "what the devils the matter with you, Ian Veg?" "Maiter, sir!" responded Ian in deep amazement. 3» A SON OF GAD ^: I "Maiter! Oh, nothing in the world will be the maiter, I suppose." " You're as mysterious as an old maid with an improper secret," rejoined the laird. " Come, out with it." "Well, then, sir, if you must know I will tell you," replied Ian, bracing himself as for an ordeal. " It's just the new gentry ; that's what's the maiter. For I did not think to see the day when a MacLean would be in Craigenard and a tarn black Ogilvie in Dunveagle; and I did not think, too, that the sun would rise on any morning when Ian Veg Mackem would be told by his maister to wait on an Ogilvie. But the world iss all upside down and the top and bottom all wrong, and Ian Veg iss an old man that will not be able very well to fall in with new fashions and things. If you wass to use poother and shot on him just like an old done dog, you wouldn't be doing wrong, sir." The note of wounded loyalty touched the laird, who had a Highlander's appreciation of fidelity. There was no need to ask Ian for an explanation of his attitude. His conduct for forty years furnished both exposition and commentary. Through good and evil hap, through the hostility of foes and the treachery of friends, through the long-drawn tragedy of crowding disaster, he had clung to the laird, to the effusion of blood and his own undoing. With a bite and a sup and something to cover his naked- ness he was content, so only that Dunveagle benefited. His wages were now two years in arrear, not because the laird could not or would not pay, but because Ian knew his master had the greater need of money. And in this antique spirit of devotion to a fallen house he was vigorously aided— nay, urged by Janet, who never complained save when a fighter for Dunveagle evinced a disposition to mount the white feather. The couple conspired to retain for their master a pathetic semblance A PROOF OF LOYALTY 33 of the ancient lordship, to pose him still as the munificent giver, the hospitable host, the quixotically generous patron, to sustain his pride, and buoy him with 1 sense of power. They called him Dunveagle, though his title to the dis- tinction was gone, and Ian made a visit to Perth, his wrists bearing the iron bracelets, because someone had impugned the laird's honour. In return they asked nothing but bread and raiment, a licence to criticise, and unfettered liberty to do as seemed to them good in the interest of the man they served and loved. Thus it came that Ian took liberties with the laird on which not another man in Glenveagle would have ventured. " You forget, Ian," said the laird, softened by the fresh proof and the old memory of loyalty; "you forget that the Ogilvies come to me as friends. Would you have me lacking in proper courtesy? Tell me, did you ever see MacLean rude or boorish to any man who came to his door as a friend ? " "Never," answered Ian promptly, "never; and I tell you, sir, that if Dunveagic calls the tevil friend, Ian Veg will be ceevil to him." "After all, Ian, there's some difference between an Ogilvie and the devil," said the laird, smiling. " Ay," assented Ian quickly, " I haf hard that the tevil is a gentleman : I haf not hard so much of Ogilvie. Some of us mind," he went on, "when the Ogilvies had as little shoe-leather for their feet as the rest of us, and this day they are sitting in Dunveagle Castle. That's a fine turn up. Some of us mind, too, when black Jock Ogilvie married Jean Meldrum o' the Whins, and what was she ? I've seen her kilt her coats and tramp the blankets like any other country lass ; and now her fine legs are in braw silks and laces, they say." "It's true, Ian," admitted the laird, "you and I have seen some changes together." 34 A SON OF GAD ^ More than iss good for our stomachs," cried Ian- more than iss good for our stomachs. We haf seen the hoolet m the eagle's nest-thafs fine. We haf seen the goose putting on the feathers of the peacock_that-s fine too. We haf seen kinless upstorts in the castles of them that had a name and a habitation at the flood, ay, and a boat of their own too." "It's not mentioned in Scripture, Ian," remarked the laird. "All things iss not mentioned in Scripter, sir," returned Ian. If you haf found no word of MacLean there, I haf seen no mention of Ogilvie." He was proceeding on .-. rising tide of eloquence when there came a tap to the docr and in walked Janet "I^wass thinking, sir, you will be ready to clear away she said, casting an eye over the toble, "and you haf not started. The salmon will be spoiled, and the eggs too." ' "I'll finish in a minute, Janet," answered the laird alhng to. "The fact is we have wasted time talking I have been telling Ian that the new gentry are coming pleTed^*' '° "" ^°" *^ '"'"' "^'' "°' *°° *^" Janet glanced from one to the other for a cue "And if it iss your will, sir, that the new gentry's coming to see you what odds iss it if Ian Veg is pleased or no pleased? I w.U be thinking Craigenard iss not his at alL" And she looked at Ian as if daring him to contradict her. Ian knew better. 11 i CHAPTER VI CONSPIRATORS T AN went forth from the presence to take counsel with 1 his assistant and confidant Alick Ruah (Alick of the Red Hair), whom, cynic like, he engaged because the boy's name was a byword with every old wife in the district Did a fond mother wish to nip the budding Satan in her darlmg, she did it by pointing to the awful consequences of depravity in Alick; did a preaching father desire a red- hot example of wickedness, he had it offhand in the history of Ahck. Some have fame thrust on them ; Alick's reputa- tion was honestly won in a brilliant course of evil-doing • and this greatly pleased Ian, who came to the shrine of respectability sneering. Alick's mother, Mary Ruah, was long a familiar ill- chenshed figure in Glenveagle. Her boy's inheritance were the congenital red head and certain propensities which. It was commonly held, never did and never should make for righteousness. Mary's career had been vaned and adventurous, and the end tragic or glorious according to the point of view. The simple facts are these. One Saturday night Mary came forth into the main street of Aberfourie, her best Sunday bonnet tilted dizzily over her right eye, and challenged any man, woman, or child within hearing to a bout with the bottle. Some choice spirits being present, time and place were forthwith arranged. Three competitors entered the lists against her, 35 36 A SON OF GAD Ian Veg, Tom of the Croft, and Donald Mohr of the Whins, an umpire, pledged to soberness, holding the stakes, which were two bottles of a noted whisky. Donald Mohr dropped out early ; Tom presently followed, and Ian Veg and Mary settled cosily to the contest by themselves. "Here's to you, Mary, my lass," cried Ian in Gaelic. " Win or lose, I never met your match in petticoats. It's a pleasure to drink with you; but it sticks in my mind you're in for a licking this twist." "And I'm obliged to you, Ian Veg," returned Mary. " About the licking— we will see by-and-by." "Fuich, you're hiccuping already, Mary," rejoined Ian, "and that's not a good sign, my lass. Here's at ye." At four on the Sunday morning Ian stottered home, leering like a conqueror, half the prize swinging perilously in his coat-tail; the other half he had chivalrously pre- sented to Mary, and medical evidence was to the effect that this finished her. When he heard some days later that the heroic Mary was no more, it came " like a stoond in his conscience," as he declared, to do something for her orphan boy, a task which he was the readier to undertake since inscrutable Heaven had denied Janet and himself children of their own. Alick was already picking up a precarious living, and as nobody's brat in particular was flouted and abused at the pleasure of such as had the muscle to thrash him or the nerve to incur his ill-will. The number included none of his own age or size. Ian took him in hand curiously, as a breaker takes in hand a horse that has defied and beaten rivals, trained him with a doting care and finished him off, a pattern of un- devout heroism. The boy was without fear or conscience, would venture anything, had wit to devise, a head for difScuIties, and a remarkable power of the fists. Withal, he had the faculty of hero-worship. Within three months CONSPIRATORS J7 he hung on lan's image. Napoleon and Sir Colin Campbell were great men, but could they equal Ian Veg in a pre- dicament ? In turn, Ian was prouder of Alick than of all his works beside. Whoever else might quail or run in a crisis, Alick stood defiant as the rocks that tore and ripped the Veagle water : and the mentor was pleased to note that the direr the peril the keener was Alick's delight. "Alick," said Ian one day, meditatively smoking his pipe, " I wass just thinking to myself that you'll do." The boy had half killed a neighbouring herd, twice his own size, and come out of the fray without a scratch. That was lan's lesson in ethics. It chanced that when Ian passed out from the laird's presence that Alick was supping his morning porridge. A jerk of the head brought him trotting at lan's heels, and the pair were soon in deep deliberation over the laird's folly. Alick heard the tale with indignation and contempt, for he had been taught that the right way with an enemy is war to the knife. Besides, he was there to uphold the honour of the MacLeans, even against themselves, and — curse and confound the Ogilvies. " Do you know what I think ? " said Ian. " It iss this : that the old gowk has invitit them. Well, you and me will see them in cinders, Alick, my lad, afore we wait on them." An unholy light gleamed in Alick's eye. " Urn," he said, nodding vehemently in confirmation. "Let us see," continued Ian. "If they walk, they'll come by the wee footbridge ; if they ride or drive, it will be the big bridge. Anyway, you see, they'll have to cross water." "And the bridges is fifty feet high," remarked Alick, with a grin of intelligence. " About that," returned Ian. " I have a plan," cried Alick. 38 A SON OF GAD Ian looked round carefully. "No so loud," he cautioned, "no so loud. Mind that stone walls have ears whiles. Yer just a reg'Ur wee tevil with plans, Alick. What is it now ? " " The bridges is wood," answered Alick. Ian struck a match on the bowl of his black cutty pipe and began to pull thoughtfully. Then, taking the pipe from his mouth, he looked hard at his companion. •'Take care, Alick Ruah, of the freckles," he said Go on like that, and you'll soon be in the prison of Ferth, and I'm in a poseetion to tell ye the air is not at all good, nor the meat and drink too, not to speak of having to make yer own bed in the morning, which is the business of women, and not of men at all. Forby 'i might be a hanging job if the trash was drooned. Haf you thought of that, Alick Ruah?" "A bit of the saw and a bit spate," suggested Alick, undaunted by the prospect of hanging. "Maybe rain would come if we prayed for it." "Ay, maybe the goose will come when the fox whistles," returned Ian. "A bit of the saw and a bit spate. The saw we could manage if the night was dark enough, but about the spate, do you think you and me's in that well with Providence we can get a spate when we want it? It iss in my mind there iss nd chance of a spate " Thereupon he began to unfold a plan of his own, a plan so tame, so unheroic, that Alick feared Ian was getung old and losing his spirit. Ian, in fact, was basely thinking of saving himself and leaving the laird to the consequences of his infatuation. Before Alick could express his sentiments on the point, they were in- terrupted by Janet "CoUogin' again," she cried. "One would think you two bodies haf the whole care and planning of the world. Ian Veg, your porridge will be getting cold if you don't CONSPIRATORS 39 take care, and you, Alick, what I am wondering iss this, if there's enough in your head to get me a troot or two." "A troot or two," cried Alick, sniffing treason, and glanced at Ian. "That will be exackly what I said, Alick Ruah," re- sponded Janet. "I haf an awful fancy for a troot. If you wass to bring me a basketfu' you'll see what will happen." He went obediently to search out his fishing-tackle, Ian, by Janet's orders, helping: then when he was gone on his mission, Ian went in to breakfast, which he ate gloomily, while receiving instructions from his wife con- cerning the expected visit of the Ogilvies. He said nothing, but when he strode forth again, red rebellion shone in his eye. "The Ogilvies," he muttered to him- self, going into the stable; "that's what the Ogilvies deserve." And he crunched his heel viciously on a stone. CHAPTER VII P: CONSPIRACY TAKES A NEW TURN IT chanced that on the afternoon of next day Ian and Alick, resting on a knoll behind Craigenard to breathe and mop their streaming brows, looked down on the green windings of Glenveagle. From a craggy gap to the west the turbulent river leaped, to flash down the valley in cascades and running Unes of foam where the rocks were thick, or gloom in pools and eddies that were black in the brightest noon. The pine woods wore their richest olive, the fields their most vivid green. In fine, Glenveagle was in summer dress, and the lush verdure of Glenveagle is a thing of beauty which city people travel far to see. "It's bonnie," remarked Ian, filling his lungs with the scented breeze. "Man, it iss grand when the sun shines like that m Glenveagle. Alick, my lad, it iss a good thing to be Hving this day, too." He swept his eye over glen and mountain with ineffable satisfaction. Then it lighted on the grey turrets of Dun- veagle Castle, rising in the midst of a billowy sea of foliage and at that his face darkened. ' "Alick," he said, incipient anger ringing in his voice, "if the tevil had not too much hand in this worid, it iss down there you and me would be, and not melting up here. Now it iss the Ogilvies that iss there, the son of black Jock Ogilvie, of Craigenard, here, and Jean Meldrum of the Whins, ay, and Jean herself, too. That's a change 40 CONSPIRACY TAKES A NEW TURN 41 for you. If you live long enough you will see some wonderful things, Alick, my man." He shut his lips with a smack, his eyes still bent on the grey points among the green. Instead of answering, Alick leaped to his feet. " What's yon ? " he cried excitedly. " What's yon ? " "Alick Ruah," responded Ian, also rising, "if you make me jump like that, look you, I must learn you manners with the stick. What are ye crying and glowering at?" "They're coming," was the answer. "See yonder at the end of the avenue among the trees." Ian held an outspread hand over his eyes and gazed " Ay," he said, " they're coming." And he added com- ments on the general economy of things, which it would not be edifying to repeat. Spitting in disgust, he turned to his companion. " Where's yer saws and yer spates and yer prayin' now?" he demanded. And almost as he spoke Alick announced another discovery. "The laird's seen them, too. There's Maggie looking for us," he cried, excitement quivering in his voice. With the celerity of a weasel Ian slid behind a rock. " Let her find us, then," he growled. " And will you be coming down out of that, too, Alick Ruah, or will you need my cromak about the legs of you ? " Alick likewise dropped out of sight, and the two made off hillward. Five minutes later Maggie was on the knoll they had left, shouting vociferously. " Alick," said Ian, with a grim chuckle, " Maggie hass lungs and legs. It is a peety to be deef when a bonnie lassie's cryin' to ye, but business iss business. We haf that job in the hill that can't wait." Finding her shouting in vain, Maggie once more plunged in pursuit. The fugitives quickened their pace for that 4a A SON OF GAD urgent business in the hill, of which a minute before neither had heard. Behind, Maggie gave tongue at intervals and with increasing vehemence. "Maggie can skreigh," remarked Ian almost in admira- t.on. At the end of a mile's race over the rockiest, steepest ground the pair could choose, she overtook them. Her hand was pressed to her side; she streamed at every pore, and her final challenge was a gasp. Ian turned in amazed concern. "God bless my soul, Maggie, what iss the maiter?" he cried. "You should mind that running like that is awful bad for the heart. What for did you not cry after "I ^■.■," panted Maggie. "There's Alick," returned Ian, pointing to that model of veracity. "If there was a cry in the hill this blessed day, ask him. Now, Maggie, take breath and tell us what iss the maiter." "The laird wants you, and so does Janet," blurted Maggie. "Yer flustered, Maggie," rejoined Ian tenderly. "Take time and tell us all about it." Whereupon Maggie reported with much panting that Ian was wanted instantly, that the OgiMes were coming and that, metaphorically speaking, Craigenard was standing on Its head and madly kicking its heels in the air. He would have questioned further, and to that end invited her to sit down. But if Alick was under lan's thumb, Maggie was under Janet's, so having deUvered her message, she made for home. The conspirators looked at each other in a silence more eloquent than speech. "Alick," said Ian presently, "you and me's two fools. If you kick mc I'll kick you-for our own satees- faction." From a point of vantage beside a grey rock they CONSPIRACY TAKES A NEW TURN 43 watched the carriage from Dunveagle climbing like an ant far below. Luckily, the fat English horses crawled so slowly there was a moment to consider a plan of procedure. " Alick," said Ian, " me and you might, as you would say, tell the laird to go to blazes, and we might tell Janet to go to blazes, but it iss in my mind it will not do to tell the laird and Janet together to go to blazes. I wish Maggie had tumbled in a bog-hole. It iss bad any way ye look at it. I must be off, though. But sit you here, Alick, watching, and when you see the trash near the far gate yonder, bolt down with the biggest skelloch you can get out of you, and get me back to the hill." "What about?" asked the practical Alick. " If you wass afraid of a licking, I'm thinking you would find a story," answered Ian pungently. Alick beamed. "Very well, then," he said, with easy self-confidence. "And if ye fail in one jot or tittle," said Ian, with scrip- tural impressiveness, " it will be better for you, Alick, my lad, not to come down at all." "Very well," repeated Alick, his features crinkling in a grin of content. On reaching the house, Ian found the laird already dressed in gala tartan. " Where's Alick ? " was the first question. " Up by in the hill, sir," answered Ian innocently. " Bring him back, then, quick ! " said the laird ; " I want him." So Ian went gloomily to the back of the house, put the first and third fingers of his left hand into his mouth, and the second on the point of his camelian nose, and blew. Now, when Ian put his heart into it, there was not his match at the long whistle among all the shepherds of Glen- veagle. But his whistling now was without pith or spirit. 44 A SON OF GAD " You've done better than that in your day, Ian Veg," said the laird grimly. "Try again." The second time, being touched in his pride, Ian made the echoes ring. " That'll likely do," said the laird drily. " Now get into your kilt." " Your tartan or mines ? " asked Ian. "When did MacLean's followers receive MacLean's friends in the Mackem tartan?" was the retort. "You have ten minutes to dress." Sullenly, and not too briskly, Ian went to the back kitchen, where Janet awaited him with a tub of water and half a bar of acrid soap. A minute later Alick followed, breathless. Janet eyed the pair as Bumble might survey particularly undesirable casuals. " Ay," she remarked tartly, " a woman has a fine handling with her men folk. They gaither dirt like drookit hens. Maggie, bring yer scrubbin' brush." She left to make herself "snod," but presently returned to expedite the washing. Ian was spluttering foam, rubbing stung eyes, and cursing wickedly. " And to think I haf to thole this for the torn black Ogilvies," he cried in disgust and rebellion. " Ay, and more too, if you will not be hurrying, Ian Veg ! " came from the door. " The laird's waiting." Even lan's docility failed in that moment of trial. Turn- ing, towel in hand, he blinked at his wife with red, truculent eyes. " Will you be so good as to take my compliments to the laird, and say that if he gives better soap I will make better time ? " he retorted. " And if I wass you, Janet, I would not bfi standing aboot with only half my clothes on. I have seen things that wass more becoming." " Your kilt and your sporan and your stockings iss laid out on the bed," rejoined Janet, unmoved, "and yours too, CONSPIRACY TAKES A NEW TURN 45 Alick. And mind, both of you, there'll be a fine splore if the new gentry comes and nobody out to meet them." Within the prescribed time Ian and Alick appeared be- fore the laird, resplendent in MacLean tartan, in metal buttons, buckles, sporan, and hair-oil. The laird cast a critical eye over them, and signified they would do, though he would have preferred less shine on the face and less grease about the head. Then he gave the final orders. He hated the Ogilvies, but, hating or loving, banning or blessing. Highland sentiment dictated that guests should be received in honour. Besides, he was proud of his tartan, the sole remaining emblem of vanished splendour. It had been conspicuous on many a glorious, many a disastrous field. Its scarlet had been deepened to heart's crimson at Flodden ; it had brightened the victories of the great Montrose, been with Dundee at Killiecrankie, and Charlie at CuUoden, and fluttered in the van of forays and clan battles itmumerable, from Loch Gruinard and Benbigger down. Never in any crisis of fortune had it been dis- graced by cowardice, by discourtesy, or inhospitality ; it should not be disgraced now, when honour was all that remained to be upheld. So Alick went to open gates with particular instructions as to behaviour, and to Ian fell the duty of holding the carriage door as the occupants stepped out. He did it with a high head, a set face, and a silent tongue, disdainfully pushing the nigger footman out of his way. CHAPTER VIII IN THE lion's den, AND WHAT HAPPENED THERE THE effect of sentiment, half consciously disguised as goodwill, the visit was in truth an invasion of the mediaeval by the modem, and something more, as both sides acutely felt. In its heart the mediaeval fiercely resented the advent of the modern as at once a shameful injustice and a blatant impertinence; and the modem was nervously uncertain of the spirit of the medisval. For you are to note it was not merely the common clashing of old and new, the collision, as it were, of two hemispheres and two civilisations; it -vas or might be the revival of old hatreds, the reopening of deadly feuds. To be sure the olive branch stood between, but might it not enwreathe the dagger? In the day of their power the MacLeans had dealt hardly with the Ogilvies; the wheel turned, and behold the Ogilvies sat in the seat of the MacLeans. Not from friendship is a Roland thus given for an Oliver. And indeed when Alick had closed the last gate behind them, the Ogilvies had a sharp tremor of misgiving at their temerity in walking wantonly, as it were, into the lion's den— a lion whose claws had on less excuse turned to murderous steel points. Had their exile blotted out remembrance of Highland honour, that they did not know better? For the Highlander stands brother to the Arab in this, that the welfare of his guest, even when 46 IN THE LION'S DEN 47 an enemy, is sacred as his own life. MacLean might go to Dunveagle and cut Ogilvie's throat with gusto; but Ogilvie at Craigenard was safe while MacLean had a blade to defend him. He was out himself to greet them, the eagle feather of valiancy in his glengarry, the jewelled horn of the skenedhu, reserved for great occasions, gleaming above his stocking. His welcome had the courtly grace of the patrician. There is an air of quality which is the special gift of time; and the Ogilvies were perhaps vaguely conscious of the rawness of brand-new grandeur beside an immemorial mien of lordship. They could not lay haughtiness to their host's charge. Hi3 manner was easy, cordial, gracious, if also nobly proud and subtly impres- sive. They knew he was as poor as the hawks that haunted his bleak crags, and notwithstanding a benign exterior, as fierce and independent. Connie, who had eyes and ears for a multitude, marked yet other things which surprised, yet somehow did not displease. One was that immediately on bidding them welcome he replaced his bonnet on his head, not defiantly nor arrogantly, yet as one who would have the action noted. "An American," she said to herself in her rapid Western way, "would remain bareheaded." And thereby Miss Ogilvie, who knew much, evinced ignorance of the privileges of chieftainship. In the glorious days of old a MacLean had done his prince a redoubtable service, and in reward had warrant for himself and his descendants for ever to stand covered in the royal presence. The man who faces kings, bonnet on head, is not likely, if you will consider the matter, to uncover before meaner men, even tf they are perched on piles of gold. Wherefore after the lordly duck of greeting MacLean clapped his head- piece on again, as one above the conventions of ordinary people. 48 A SON OF GAD But his demeanour was marked by a quaint, elaborate courtesy, which Connie, whose appreciation of old-world romance was quick and keen, pronounced "as good as a scene out of the Morlt d' Arthur." The reader may be pleased to glance at an impressionist portrait which she dashed off for her friend, Kitty Dunbar, in New York. " Imagine a patriarch of six feet, not in Hebrew robe and sandals, but in kilt of flaring Highland tartan, sporan ■ — which grannie tells me is the Gaelic for purse — (it wouldn't do for us to wear it so openly on our fronts, dear), buckle-shoes, and jewelled dagger, called skenedhu (Anglice, black knife), as if he were a hoary Italian bandit retired on his laurels. Picture him, too, quite as lean but hardly as angular as our typical Yank, but in place of a withered goatee put a great glistening sheaf of white beard; above that set an eagle beak inclining to what your favourite novelist calls 'the aquiline'; flanking that, like a pair of twin sentinels, put a pair of grey hawk-eyes, equally capable of the caresses of a lover (things, to be candid, we women would sell our souls for, Kitty darling) or the piercing flash of the sworn foe. Crown all with a fuzzy-wuzzy tangle of snow-white hair on which, if you please, my hero keeps his bonnet (that's the Highland word for what is neither cap nor hat) in presence of the finest lady in the lane. 'The rude man!' you exclaim in your impetuous way. On the contrary, splendid, an old lion in the glory of his age, a trifle uncertain perhaps in his temper, like the noble creatures of his sex, but a woman's hero to the last fibre of him. America pro- duces nothing lixe him, nothing quite so picturesque and therefore so interesting. Take dear old Don Quixote, add Northern shagginess and shrewdness, rig him out in High- land costume, set him down among the everlasting hills and crags (now gorgeous with sunshine and colour), and IN THE LIONS DEN 49 you have some idea of my chief. A century and a half ago his family sang " ' Come o'tt the slre«in, Chailic, ilear Charlie, liravr Charlie, Come o'er the stream, Charlie, and dine wi' MacLean ' with a great deal too much heart and fervour for their orn interest. Do you know who my present heroine is' Joan of Arc! Grace Darling! Fudge. It's Flora Macdonald. My chiefs great -great -great -grandfather kissed her hand, and never after kissed another woman. Match me such loyalty among your gallants of to-day. My hero has a history. He once owned Dunveagle, and has a son whose picture at seven years of age hangs in the Jining-room on the rock, a sweet-faced, winsome, innocent tot in golden ringlets, and a ruffle of lace, who looks at you wistfully as for a kiss. Now he's an officer in the British Army, and I daresay not so wistful and innocent as he once was. I hear he is on the way home from India. Possibly he may be here on furlough when you come." As was her way, Miss Ogi^vie trips along too fast. She does not tell, for example, that the ma.i who had faced delirium on the New York Stock Exchange with the coolness of a bronze statue was strangely embarrassed before her mountain knight, nor for reasons easily guessed was Mrs. Ogilvie in a voluble mood. It devolved on the ardent, unconventional Connie herself to dispel the chill of reserve and unce tainty. "Well ! " she cried, glancing from the laird to his hench- men, "really and truly we are in the Highlands at last." Her father warned her by a look to be careful, a warning secretly repeated by her gran'lmother ; but she skipped on heedless. "Mr. MacLean," she said, stooping towards him, "will you tell me if that is a real dagger you are wearing ? " "It is the skenedhu. Miss Ogilvie," MacLean answered so gravely. A SON OF GAD vl " It is worn for ornament now, more's the pity ; but once it wai carried for use." " How romantic ! " she cried. " One makes out it must have been rarely exciting in the good old times when men settled their diflerences with the dirk instead of going to law. Grannie has told me about them, and I have read a little too— Ossian's poems and Sir Walter's books and other works. Don't you think, sir, the world is growing tame ? " Unwittingly she held the stirrup, and the next instant the laird was on his hobby-horse. "Tame!" he repeated, a ringing scorn in his voice. "Is the Caillach that sits blinking and snuffing in the greasach tame?" "Grannie, dear, will you translate for me?" asked Connie sweetly, turning to her grandmother. But the laird, sensitive as an electric needle, quickly interposed. "I will translate myself. Miss Ogilvie," he said. "The translation is just this, that the world is now like an old wife that sits mumbling among the ashes. I think the world grows too politic and prudent." " Delightful ! " she cried. " And has that skindoo killed anybody in its day, Mr. MacLean?" "I wouldn't wonder," he answered, his eye twinkling. " It is old, and once long ago there was blood on it." A shade of horror crossed Connie's face, but she was too eager to be long or deeply horrified. Had he a claymore as well as a skindoo ? " If Mrs. Ogilvie will excuse us while we go to the little room upstairs that I call the armoury," he said, rising with the enthusiasm of a boy, " I will show you a broadsword." Connie and her father accompanied the laird; Mrs. Ogilvie, having thoughte of her own, remained behind in the little drawing-room once her pride, and sent for Janet. But the two had hardly dipped into the past when Connie IN THE LIONS OEN j, was back, a huge sword swung on her shoulder and a dancing delight in her face. Her father and the laird followed close, the latter in a pother of wonder over this frank, irruptive, cordial Western girl, so curiously unlike the young ladies of his acquaintance. " Beyond all doubt we are in the Highlands at last ' " she cned. "See, a relic of the good old times!" Uying the weapon aero i her grandmother's knees. " An Andrea Ferrara, isn't it, Mr, MacLean?" "You can see the St. Andrew's cross for yourself" replied the laird proudly. ' "Yes, to be sure, and it has been in the wars too, Mr. MacLean, hasn't it ? " " Count the notches. Miss Ogilvie. It was at Inverlochy and Kilsyth. It helped to prog Argyle out of his own castle of Inverary when he forgot his manners and patnotisni. which, to say truth, he hardly ever remembered. After that it was at KiUiecrankie, and CuUoden, and other places. Oh yes, it has been in the wars." "And done murder," suggested Connie archly. "Miss Ogilvie," returned MacLean, drawing himself up like an offended warrior, " war is not murder. A thief and 8 villain go out to murder in the dark, but a soldier goes and kills his man in broad daylight, like a gentleman, l-erhaps you are interested in Montrose, Miss Ogilvie." " The great Marquis ! Listen ! " and she recited— " ' Ut tither fears his fate too much. Or his deserts are small, WItf dares not put it to the touch To gain or lose it all.' "Is that the man?" "That's the man," replied the laird, his face flushed with excitement. "Well, he put it to the touch, and you know what happened." He tunied abruptly to the window, and stretched an arm 5» A SON OF GAD Instinctively all eyes followed the I'.M I Hi towards Dunveagle. pointed hand. "You see the right peak of the castle yonder," he said, under that is a bedroom." " Mine," responded Connie, with a start. "Then," said MacLean impressively. "Miss Ogilvie has the honour to own a room once occupied by the great Marquis." " Tell us about it," she said breathlessly. " Tell us." "It was after Philiphaugh," replied MacLean, "when they were hunting him by hill and river, like a brock— that IS a badger, you understand. And in his extremity he honoured the MacLean of that day by seeking refuge in Dunveagle. Three nights he slept in that room under the nght peak ; and when he went, having no better gift to bestow, he left that sword. 'Take,' he said, 'it is all I have to give in the present state of my fortune. A loyal Highlander once presented it to me. I present it in turn to another loyal Highlander.'" "I daresay it was accepted as good payment," said Connie. "Payment!" repeated the laird, "none thought of pay- ment. Men did not barter all for money then. Montrose died at Edinburgh, as you know, and MacLean is no longer m Dunveagle. But the thought keeps me company many a time, and I would not exchange it for a cartload of gold, that in his sore straits the great Marquis was sheltered at Dunveagle. And that's the sword ; count the notches, and reckon every notch the lives of half a score of enemies." He drew up, his eye flashing, his face dusky red. Even Connie felt that the atmosphere had grown suddenly and dangerously electric; and for one swift moment Duncan Ogilvie saw MacLean wield the sword of Montrose in vengeance. CHAPTER IX THE lion's den, CONTINUED THE laird himself was quite quick to realise the em- barrassment, n.d his chivalry leaped to the rescue. " Tut, tut 1 " he cried in laughing self-reproach. " Talk- ing of bwords and wars when we should be minding our fnends." He turned with an exquisite gallantry to Mrs. Ogilvie. " We are over head and ears in old associations," he remarked, every sign of heat vanished. " Every stone here speaks with a strange tongue. I am sure you would like to go through the house for old sake's sake, as the saying is. Will you do me the favour to say where you prefer to begin?" He bent his grey eyes upon her, smiling as if his sole busmess in life were to please. And in truth he was thinking how to eliminate himself, so that his presence should not disturb while his visitors communed with the ghosts of the "old dead time." He knew better than most what it was to have them swooping back with choking memories. Many and many an hour he passed with the glorious dead, his mind in a burning glow at the thought of their deeds, or brooded with rankling heart over things that had long since melted into air, mto thin air. In such hours of absorption he resented intrusion himself, and he had a sufficient regard for the golden rule to consider his guests when the past held them, as he could well guess, in a throttling grip. "I'm thinking there is no need, Mrs. Ogilvie," he 53 54 A SON OF GAD said, "to show you the way about Craigenard, for indeed, as I find to my cost, old feet remember the steps of their youth better than the steps of yesterday. If they had their will at the last, likely they'd just walk back to the starting-point again. The house, top to bottom, is open to you; will you act as guide while I attend to some little business with my man, Ian Veg?" "Thank you, sir," retumtd Ogilvie, speaking for his mother, "that is thoughtfully and kindly done." "Well, well," rejoined the laird hastily. "Once— but never mind that. Harrowing is good for ploughed land, but bad for the feelings, Mr. Ogilvie." And bowing, he withdrew. "Mother, it is as you predicted," said Duncan Ogilvie softly. " Highland delicacy and chivalry are not a mere tradition. How did he guess ? Come." So she led them slowly by the old familiar ways, up- stair and downstair, along narrow passages, into obscure or hidden comers. And as she explained how the rooms looked in the days when she was mistress and house- maid in one, where this or that piece of furniture stood, and how the whole was arranged and set off with little devices of her own, she had often to stop in the middle of a sentence. For it is not all exultation that comes even to a millionaire's mother when she revisits the home where she once sat sewing, perhaps with weary hands and eyes, that he might be dressed like other boys. There was no need to sew now, but— but "Duncan," she said, coming to a stand in an upper room, "it was here that I tried on your first kilt. I have a bit of it yet, and a proud woman I was, for every stitch in it was my own. Your father was to drive down by to the laird with his rent, and was taking you with him." She turned abruptly to look out of the window, and Connie gently kissed the wet face. But Duncan Ogilvie THE LION'S DEN 55 I stood motionless and speechless, as under a spell, gazing upon himself in the kilt which his mother had made. And the financial potentate, whose whispered word ex- cited every telegraph wire and tape machine on two continents, forgot his heaps of gold and the fierce joy of contention and the rapture of victory. Ay, the m jlti- millionaire, whose operations dazzled the imagination, whose name had a magic beyond that of the magician's wand, was again a penniless boy, looking up proudly at his mother in delight over his first kilt. And in that moment of so little worth seemed deeds and parch- ments, safes and strong-rooms, so remote and phantasmal the dusty clangour of steel highways, so poor the satis- faction of controlling them, that if a wizard had offered to restore the past on condition that present wealth were surrendered, he would joyously have cried out, "Yes, yes, take it all, only make me a boy again with all the old faces about me." In very truth he would have given the profits on many a deal in Wall Street for a repetition of that ride with his father to pay the laird his rent He was here in the old place, but his father alas ! more than wide seas separated them. For " Disappearing and passing away Are the world, and the ages, and we." A laugh under the window recalled all three— a laugh that rang clear as a bell with merriment. It was Alick. " My God ! " thought Ogilvie, " I'd give a million to be able to laugh like that." They descended, and were bidden to a feast which they durst not decline, though they had scant appetite. Janet called it a " high tea," and Alick's keen nose told him how it came that that morning for the second time he had got a half-holiday to catch trout. From outside, as the company sat down, came the hum of the pipes. 56 A SON OF GAD will like it, Mrs. Ogilvie," "1 hope you will i.ke it. Mrs. Ogilvie," said the oTd t/;™"- "' '°'' ^" ""^ '° P'^V some or the Mrs. Ogilvie was glad, in spite of the pain, her son was oS T/w^ '^ ^"""^ "°' '"'"^^^•« Con4 :L Ian Veg received instructions to play that day if he had mdeed, the mandate was unnecessary; for iL was a pipe bo^. whose joy m h.s art was both incentive and rewarf. Two thmgs he d.d, with the brilliancy of genius and no for the MacLean. He lied with the awesome, convincing nnocence of a child. When he took the pip^s potenTJ nval turned mto ravished disciples. For hi,!«elf he had trkl of v-,r^t'~u"'' '' "^ '"'P°^^''"^ '° have a friendly trial of skill with the MacCrimmon. " Man." he declar J once "it would be better than thre • glasses of whist? Enthusiasm could go no further than that so^hlt'T/h""" ',' T"''^ '"^ «^^' '^'^ "La-n^nV so that all the gnef of parting, the poignancy of tragedy make the MacCnmmon himself first weep in pity over human woe. and then turn green w,th envy of the art Z drew h.s tears. The " La„,ent " rose now 7s if the nlZ sL.ri "f *'' '"°'''^ "^^'"S °f «=hildren and thf stifled sobs of strong men-all the despair and anguish of ^b^king hearts-were borne on the wind from b'Teak " Ai more, no more, no more for ever In v,ar or peace shall return Macc'rimmoH ■ tuo more, tu more, no more for ever Shall love orgoU bring back MacCrimmon I - Mrs. Ogilvie listened as in a trance It wa. not n,» sound of the pipes she heard, nor the bL: LtmS j THE LION'S DEN j, of the ribbons glancing past the window she saw. The laird and Duncan, noting her far-off look, were sym- pathetically silent. Even Connie's face was dreamily melancholy. "Balclutha set to music," she remarked presently; "I had no idea the pibroch could be so sad." "You will know now what is meant when one says that the pipes wail. Miss Ogilvie," returned the laird. She nodded. What she fain would have done was to ean her cheek on her hand and muse on the pathos of human destiny. But Ian Veg had changed to a ranting quick-step, and the company pricked up unconsciously. "Don't you think, sir, he understood human nature who first sent men to fight on music? " asked Ogilvie. "Ay," replied the laird, "the music keeps the nasty cold feeling from getting about the heart." "Truly feudal," cried Connie, catching a glimpse of the stiiitting Ian. This new world of mediievalism was dehciously quaint, romantic, and restful after the hurry and burmshed glare of New York; and Miss Connie was avid of new sensations. Presently Alick was summoned to dance, and he danced with such enchanting lightness that Connie inquired whether he had not springs concealed on his feet. "Not springs, but a spring," answered the laird jocosely It IS with the Highland dancer as with the poet. Miss Ogilvie : he must be bom, he cannot be made " When Alick bowed, glengarry in hand, after the sword dance, the laird regretted that for lack of dancers they could not have a reel. "But," said he, "if it's your ^easure when Alick's got breath again, he'll sing you a "A Highland song ?" inquired Connie. Yes, it should be Highland, that is to say, Gaelic. 5« A SON OF GAD And Alick was told what to sing. The laird well knew what he was about, for the melody which flowed from lan's fingers gushed in Alick's voice. It was a pure gift, exer- cised without thought or sense until the boy came under the influence of Ian. That worthy had himself been wont to roar out " Heather Jock " and " The Wee Drappie o't," with Gaelic ditties too expressive for the English language ; but with the advent of his protege he sang no more, except in a humming monotone when he groomed the horses. "Alick, my lad," he said one day, when the twain were together in the bam, and Alick had been carolling like a lark, " though ye could never learn to pipe till the Day of Judgment, it iss God's truth ye can sing. When Dunveagle goes to kingdom come, and the worst happens to you and me, I'll play the pipes and you'll do the bit song, and maybe fling yer heel in a dance ; that'll get us meat and drink." And the hopeful received a whack of approbation which sent him head foremost into the straw. He rose with the light of battle in his eye, but Ian smiled. " HI overlook yer impidence, Alick," he remarked blandly. "Ye haf music in ye ; come, and I'll learn ye a song." It was one of lan's ballads — a song of the boatmen of Argyle, where Ian was bom— that he now sang with the expression of a cherub — " Fkir a'ihata, na han-tilt Fkir cCbhtUa^ na fwro-eih Fkir a'6Aa/ay na Aarv-eiU Cu ma slan-duit'sgach ait 'an leidlhu." When he finished Mrs. Ogilvie's eyes were glistening, and he marvelled, for he did not know that John Ogilvie had sung the same song in that room fifty years before. Miss Ogilvie was enchanted, not by the poetry and the sentiment, which were Hebrew to her, but by the unstudied sweetness of the singer. "You must come to the castle," she said, "and I will THE LION'S DEN 59 play your accompaniments, and perhaps I may be able to help you in learning new songs." But her father had other thoughts as he looked into the freckled face and fearless eye of Alick. " My boy," he said to himself, " you'll make a spoon or spoil a horn." Alick wondered why he stared so hard. The laird, sedulous in his courtesies to the close, re- gretted the speed of time when at last they had to go ; but when he and Ian stood together a moment watching the descending carriage, he remarked, " They're safe out of our hands, Ian ; may we never look on their faces again." "And what do you think, sir?" responded Ian fero- ciously, " they gave me siller. It will be for bad luck, tam them t " And he spat on the hand that held the money. m CHAPTER X CAPTAIN MACLEAN SEES A VISION TWO days later Craigenard was thrown into an ecstasy which obliterated all thought of the Ogilvies or their doings. For Norman, with the dash of a soldier, accom- plished a surprise by arriving ten days before he was expected, though not a moment before he was welcome. Long and often had the exile's return been the subject of passionate reverie and vehement enthusiasm. Ian talked of tar barrels to illuminate the countryside; Janet planned pasties and confections enough to give a whole armv i.n indigestion; and through many a twilight hour the laird brooded, at once fondly and bitteriy, on his son's home- coming. So much had happened since Norman left, and the changes were so tragic ! Poor boy ! how would he take it all? A reception was already in the initial stage, when one evening at dusk the hero slipped quietly in upon them, making, as Ian half-gleeiully, half-sorrowfully complained, ducks and drakes of six months' hard planning. And, in truth, had he come as enemy to seize, sack, bum, and put to the sword, he could scarcely have caused an intenser commotion. Janet wept openly and unashamed as if he were her very own recovered from the grave, an example which Maggie followed out of pure sympathy : for a little the laird was inarticulate like one strangely intoxicated; even Ian was unsteady. In the general giddiness Alick 60 CAPTAIN MACLEAN SEES A VISION 6i alone kept his head, and he entertained himself with sar- castic compliments on Maggie's good looks when she was dissolved in tears, a gallantry acknowledged with the besom. Thus the sun went down on a delirium of joy. It rose next morning on hearts which, if beating more equably, still overflowed with affection, zeal, and good humour. To the amazement of some the laird himself fell into a mood of cooing softness, almost of doting tenderness. It seemed that a vacancy in his heart was filled, and that at last he was content. He listened as if the sound of Norman's footstep were the sweetest music, gazed as if no face in all the world but his were worth looking at. Three whole days this tender mood lasted; then suddenly, as was the laird's way, came an irruption. On the fourth afternoon he burst out breathing fury, and spying Ian and Alick, fell on them without cause or pre- text They took the assault patiently as part of the day's fare, but when he swept on, a fiery whirlwind, Ian looked significantly at his companion. " Alick, my lad," he said, " Dunveagle will be the only man living this day we would take that from." For half the injustice which the laird had packed into three blasphemous sentences blood had been shed. Alick's black eyes were glowing, and Alick's veins tingled viciously. The time had come to strike, even in the case of Dun- veagle. But there Ian corrected him. It was the laird's privilege to miscall, likewise to blaspheme if it were his sovereign pleasure, and any man or boy who thought other- wise should have the feat of God and a sense of duty put into him with a hazel rung. lan's reasons were manifold and forcible; but the chief reason was this, that if the laird did wrong tenfold, he made amends a hundredfoH " Ve mind the day," said Ian, " that he grippit and threw me in his rage. I could hardly keep my hands off him. I cauna tell, and no man can understand how they fidged If \i 6a A SON OF GAD to be at him. But by the grace o' God I was able to keep mysel' in. How could I ever hold up my head again if I wass to give way and mark the laird, or maybe kill him, too, in the heat ? So I just never let on but he was playing with me. Well, away he went like a mad bull, after knocking me down and calling me all the bad names he could think of. Ye ken, Alick, what a power o' the tongue he has." Alick nodded decisively. " I haf heard fish-wives at it," pursued Ian, " but fuich ! they're just bairns beside the laird when his dander's up- just bairns. Well, as I was saying, off he went, snorting and tearing ; but in ten minutes he was back. ' Am I to get it all over again, my lad ? ' thinks I, for it came into my head that maybe he was looking for somebody else to have a go at, and couldn't find anybody, and so was to have at me again. ' If I am to have another dose,' thinks I, ' it will be harder to keep the hands quiet.' But that wasn't what he wanted at all. ' Go in, ye tarn fool,' says he, ' and get a gless of whisky from Janet. And I see something's torn yer breeks ; I never saw yer match for getting through breeks, Ian Veg. There's a pair hinging behind my door ; tell Janet to give them to you,' says he, 'and God's sake, man, what sort of a coat is that to wear? What haf you been doing that it's torn like that ? ' says he. ' Tell Janet to give ye the coat behind the door as well as the breeks.' Now, Alick, you may think what ye like, being young and daft, but when yer as old as me ye'U understand that the man who makes up like that should haf the leeberty of swearing when it's his pleasure." Meanwhile the laird had met Norman and thrust a note, the cause of the tumult, into his hand. "What do you think of that?" cried the outraged man. "If old Nick ever put more presumption into one little act I have never heard of it." I CAPTAIN MACLEAN SEES A VISION 63 Norman read the note delil)erately and with an unmoved countenance, the countenance of the soldier inured to alarms and excitements. " Why, father," he said, handing it back, " I should call it cordial and polite. Of course you'll go." Now here was a thing which the laird could not have believed had anyone predicted it, for no man will believe treason of the son he cherishes m his heart. "Go!" he repeated, staring in a kind of dismay. "Go, Norman! Accept an invitation from the Ogilvies ! You are jesting." "Upon my honour, sir, I am not," was the earnest response. " There's a certain etiquette to be observed in these things. The Ogilvies were here as your guests." "Because I was a fool," cried the laird. "Because I was a fool." And for the tenth time he explained the circumstances of the invitation. "Well, they seem to have been charmed with their reception," remarked Norman. "Ah, just so," returned the laird quickly. "You see, my honour was at stake. Having begun by making an ass of myself, I had to go through with it. But when I saw their backs going downhill again honour was satis- fied, and I resolved that so far as I am concerned it should be the last of them. You call this note polite ; I construe it as an insult. For what does it mean, Norman— what does it mean? That I am bidden by usurpers to enter my own house, to sit at my own table as a guest— a stranger. That polite!" he cried explosively; "I could give you a fitter word for it." "You must go, father," said Norman quietly. "You were nice about your honour the other day ; you must not go back on it now." " Do I understand," demanded the laird hotly, " that you counsel me to accept the patronage, ay, and the pity, of :! ^* A SON OF GAD an upsUrt Ogilvie who smiles upon me because he has accomplished his revenge? I did not expect that from any son of mine. And I tell you,' he went on in a nsmg voice, "I would still kick an Ogilvie out of my way as I would kick a cur that comes snarling at my heels." "Your son, sir, understands and sympathises in your feelmgs," rejoined Norman. "But is there any use in brooding too much on our wrongs or resenting the in- evitable ? We simply press the thorns to our bosom." "Man," retorted the laird, the old Adam rampant within him, " I had no notion you were so fine at the preaching. AU^ I can say is it was lucky for Solomon he lived early. Hed have no chance with the wise young men of to-day." "If you take it like that, sir," returned Norman, with admirable self-command, "permit me to apologise and retire. I dreamt of no rivalry with Solomoa But we must remember that, however distasteful the presence of the Ogilvies may be, after all it is not their fault that we are no longer at Dunveagle. Common sense tells us that." 'Ay," rejoined the laird, nothing softened, "you do well to remind me of my misfortunes. Common sense ! God, you can have your common sense if you give me common justice ! " And he stalked away in a hot indignation, which now included Normaa Of old the boy had a proper pride and a natural and just resentment when cause arose. But since going out into the world, it appeared, he had developed the dam- nable heresy which fools misname common sense, correctly the detestable, spiritless habit of saying "Kismet" when the other side wins. Hence the suggestion that the man robbed of his inheritance should honour people who were hand-in-glove with the robbers. Well, he would see his enemies in the hottest spot beyond Jordan before letting CAPTAIN MACLEAN SEES A VISION 65 them patronise him in his own house. He would not do It, no, not if the sun and the moon stood still for witness. Yet Norman's words, coming from txn ci those firm lips and accompanied by that look fion, .Sc sti phi honest eyes, troubled hi.n. " Must gr.," lu kc|.i rei. M.-' to himself; " must go." The question, on reconsideration, v.. ; hov to lit ,1 a plausible excuse for not going. Later in the day Ian Veg, going liillKir.l 1 nong th<- sheep, was struck breathless by a singu..u si>M% >,.ibing less than his master leaping to and fro acr - , .; | um like one bereft of his wits. More than once the gymnast stumbled and went down, but instantly he was up and at it again as for a wager. "The laird is gyte," said Ian to himself, a superstitious tremor chilling his blood. He thought of the Ogilvies and wrsed them. Had they smitten the poor man with the Evil Eye, or merely by some outrage made him mad? And while Ian speculated the laird rolled heavily, as rolls the huntsman that comes a cropper at a ditch, and this time he did not attempt to rise. Ian saw him examine his foot and look about him. At that sign of helplessness Ian descended with an admirably feigned air of ignorance, and tramped, whistling, across an open space. A shout brought him to, and a beckoning wave of the hand made him hasten in surprise to his master. "I was jumping this confounded bum, Ian," the laird explained, as if he had come to grief in the course of an ordinary walk, "and I'm foundered again. Do you think you could give me a lift home?" He got the lift, and, reaching home, took to bandages and an easy chair with a grim satisfaction over which Ian specu- lated with much intelligence and eager interest In the meantime Norman had borrowed Alick's fishing 66 A SON OF GAD tackle and betaken himself, like a philosopher out of em- ployment, to the Veagle water. Without thought he took a familiar path through heath and tou^^h upland grass, grey lichened rocks, bracken and stunted hr, and so down pre- cipitous ways into a cathedral dimness, musical with leafy murmur and rustle and song of bird. Ah, God ! how good it was to be back in Dunveagle woods after nearly ten years of the white dust and gaunt aridity of India ! Along the cool, odoriferous aisles he swung, ankle-deep in moss, or tripped down stairs of tree roots with the feet and heart of a boy perhaps into an embowered dimple abloom with bluebells and wild roses, where he would pause inhaling spice ; then, again, into the vaulted alleys, where the sun- shine entered in filtered drops of gold. The brushwood was often thick and the path imaginary, but it was as a dozen years of life recovered to thrust the bra:.ches aside and feel the soft smiting of leaves on the face. On the edge of a tiny opening he leaned against a great rock warm with sun and moss, and looked round in a trance of delight. Upward the massy woods surged gloriously, here a waving, tempestuous green, there a ripple of silver as the wind caught the foliage from below or pressed it sidelong; beyond were the hills in their summer veils of blue, and in his ears were the voices of waterfalls. One fall was close at hand. By passing round the rock against which he leaned he could drink of the stream, the clearest and coldest, it was said, in all that hill country. When presently he stepped forth he came upon some- thing which made him start back as with a sense of wanton intrusion. A slim, girlish figure in white lay on the brink of the bum face down, gazing into the water. Beside her on the grasi> lay a straw hat, carelessly flung off, and the daintily slippered feet were turned upward to the day. Though thus prone, she gave the impres I CAITAIN MACLEAN SEES A VISION 67 t^s d^rS '"' '"PP'^ ^"='' ^"^ =>« 'he gazed the toes drummed m sweet content threatened fo sJp^ Jm" it!" JdTfS shT^as rmef °"^' Me^SS^t--^£^- Captain Norma' MaclT td ""ver raTH'",^'^"'^^' the match of that smile^ ' '" ^" *"' '"^ '^«" ba;;i„f rhriater'To^' T. f ^"'^"« - wa. here .atchin, nshTSa/^^uCuJ^" '•>^' ^ intrud:;,.\:i;j:r"^' ^-'^ "^^^^^ '^-'^-y - woods. evenT ScSa^d^h ^ """"' '° «° '^^°"gh '^e and s;ndin"g L^rrp'rolec^J^r °^ ^-boards --H..l.r:Si-- --«-.- -.end 68 A SON OF GAD Before running away he feasted yet a little more, in- sensibly and because he could not help himself. He marked the fine intelligence of the full brown eyes, the curve of the slender neck, rising like the white stalk of a flower from a ruffle of lace; followed the gentle swell of the bosom, and the folds of the rich oriental sash at her waist, the spirit of an old chant beating along his veins — " Beauty, all must follow thee ; Beauty, Beauty, obey, obey." She turned back to the stream with a renewed flush, which her fair, clear complexion made the more vivid. " One sees to the very bottom of these pools," she re- marked irrelevantly. " The fountain of Bandusia couldn't have been clearer. The fish haven't much chance of hiding, poor things. I fancy the water must be deep." Norman MacLean went back half a generation to the time when he . sed to bathe in that very pool. "Twenty feet at least just in front of you," he said. " But, you see, being scooped out of the livirig rock, and having nothing muddier than sand in the bottom, it is perfectly transparent." She was mistress of herself now, the flood of crimson had ebbed, but the eyes were still exceedingly bright with a sort of gracious mockery, as it seemed to Norman. "Do you fiih here?" she aaked, glancing at his rod and basket. "Where the tiamt can see every move you make it would be idle to fish," he answered. He apologised again and was turning to go, when there came a rustling on the other side, and the face of Mr. Ogilvie appeared, framed in the sundered foliage. Belnnd him, peering intendy, stood Mr. RoUo Linnie, a young gentleman of whom this history shall have more to relate. Captain MacLean cast a backward glance. ',mmi&i^mi^^^^=. CAPTAIN MACLEAN SEES A VISION 69 but did not stay his step, and in another moment was out of sight. "Con, what on earth have you been about?" asked her father. "Watching the trout here," she answered, "and that gentleman on his way to fish stumbled on me. Poor fellow, he was as flustered as if he had come plump on a company of witches in the midst of their orgies." "We thought we had lost you," said her father. Mr. Rollo Linnie said nothing, but Connie noticed he was scowling. I *:^-^v*? w^lSBl-il CHAPTER XI ENTER MR. ROLLO LINNIE WHEN Norman returned io Craigenard, wondering whether the storm had blown over, he was sur- prised to find hi» father in bandages and a remarkably complacent frame of mind. Though the swathed, out- stretched foot suggested pain, the laird's face bore an expression of beatitude, such as comes to the martyr in the moment of supreme triumph. He was smoking peace- fiiUy, and when Norman expressed concern at sight of the band!^;es, he looked up as to say, " Don't yoo go to the trouble of pitying me, because you don't iBwierstand. I am perfectly happy in my suffering. You who are cursed with false ideas of things can have no notion of the bliss that i.s in my soul." He ex^^ined contentedly that he had been "up in the hill a bit," had leaped a bum, and being, he sopposed, less agile than of old, had fallen and done that. "So you may just write for me, Norman," he added, "and say that a second sprain of the ankle prevents me from accepting the hospitality of the Ogilvies." He brought out the words in a tone of triumph. " Doubtless they have friends who would in any case be more apprc iative " But before the order could Ix' obeyed Mr. Ogilvie's nigger footman brought a second note extending the 'm- vitation to M/«^man, of whijse arrival news ha/" ^a.c\wA the castle. Norman handed the note to his father, "Ay," said the old man on reading it, a red glimmer 70 ENTER MR. HOLLO LINNIE 7, coming into his eye, "and one of Duncan's black cattle .. ,r^'" "•"• "•' ' ^^"- ^^''^ *^« yo" going to do ? ■• What would you advise, father?" asked Norman in turn. "Get a sprained ankle," returned the laird curtly Norman laughed. "I'll consider for a minute while Janet entertains the messenger," he said, and went out, leaving h,s father on a rising tide of disgust and alarm. For to the laird hesitation in such a case was one of the unpardonable sins. "Consider," le repeated, "consider," and he swung his foot off the chair with an expletive the reverse of saintly. Unwittingly he did his son an injustice, for in truth there was neither doubt nor hesitation in Norman's mind. What really occupied it was a vision of an angelic figure in white, a pair of warm brown eyes, and a mass of lovely riotous hair with the glint of ripe wheat in scudding sun-bursts. g He easily guessed who she was; yet she had shown no vestige of the pride of wealth, nor resentment at being disturbed in the privacy of her own grounds. On the con trary she seemed eager to apologise for being ,n his way. A shepherds daughter could not have been more simple- or natural; a daughter of the gods more beautiful. So the answer was written according to the heart's imp-.lse • also the writer thought, according to the laws of good breeding and neighbouriy feeling ; but without further con- sulfation with the laird. In the midst of his turmoil Norman recalled the glimpse of Linnies lean face peering like a fox's, and he made no doubt that the good Rollo was on the prowl after the fashion of his house. That house had an interesting and instructive history. Some fourscore years before, two young men, Scots advocates, shook the unproductive dust of tdmburgh off their feet and took the road to London One was named Henry Erough..., and he had the temper I I n 7» A SON OF GAD and muscle of a bully ; the other was Alexander Linnie, and in his soft adaptability he realised to the utmost the apostle's ideal of being all things to all men, though his aims were scarcely apostolic. Both struck root in the new soil and flourished, for it i^! a soil that yields increase to the good husbandman. The bully tore and shouldered his way up till men hailed him as Lord High Chancellor. As for his deeds, they are written in the book of the chronicles of the lawyers of England. You will, however, search that compendious work in vain for a record of the deeds of Alexander Linnie. One afternoon at the door of West- minster Hall he bade his friend good-bye. " I won't be here to-morrow," he said. " Life is short, H-anry, besides being somewhat uncertain; and time flies. My stomach cries out against this weary waiting for better dinners. I go where I think the fare is ampler. Heaven bless you." What followed amazed some and moved more to envy. There was a plunge into the " black pool of agio," that is to say, a haunting of dim, questionable alleys hard by Threadneedle and Throgmorton Streets. A little later Mr. Linnie received his friends in an airy office, sumptu- ously upholstered. One day Henry Brougham called, hard, gaunt, sour as unripe sloes, and Mr. Linnie, fancying he looked hungry, ordered a two-guinea luncheon. " You do the thing in style," growled Henry. "As you see," returned Mr. Linnie, smiling benignly; " and I know just enough of the law, my dear Brougham, to keep clear of it." A deep saying which not everyone could interpret. The future Chancellor nodded — he under- stood. The good sailor can run close to the wind ; and Mr. Linnie's legal knowledge was invaluable. Israelites sat at his feet as a later and greater Gamaliel, and he is bom to make money who can guide the Jew in the shady labyrinths of finance- There were whispers of transactions which ENTER MR. ROLLO UNNIE 73 made mere men of the world stare. Where was the Uw? they asked foolishly. Timid and ignorant people fear or reverence the law as an all-powerful enemy or ally Mr Lmme sUpped the law on the back as the Irishman slapped the devil, for a jolly good fellow that knows how to do a fnend a good turn. While moralists wagged their sapient heads. Mr. Linnie's fortunes swelled nobly In due time came an estate in Scotland; and when Alexander Lmme went to his fathers, it was with the satisfaction of havmg done excellently well in this world, whatever might betide in the next. Truth to tell, he did not vex himself about the hereafter. "One world at a time, my friend," he lau,-;hed once When a preacher became serious. "One world at a time It ought to be enough for any reasonable being; I assure you It IS enough for me. Besides, how are you to prepare oml, r Th*""' '"""^ ^' ^"'« 'hat when the t^e comes I wiU do my very best to adapt myself to circum- stances. Thanks for your friendly interest. Good evening " It happened opportunely that when he desired to mvest m land and found a family the spirit of progress was clear- mg out decayed HighUnd lairds. He made his selection, Zt ^ 1 ' .?r'°" ''" ""^ -^Se next to his neighbour's best land. "Why on the edge?" he was asked, and he answered significantly in the Scots phrase. "We'll shog yont. He was on the point of shogging yont when deai^ intervened. Three sons enjoyed the fruits of his well-devised labour IZ^r", T P°"'°"' ™ "^'^^ ^"'^'«<1 'he great worid. and died gallantly m the pursuit of pleasure. The third took the estate, and settled to the arduous duties of a country gentleman devoted to sport. Fate revels in rony ; her malice is especially tickled when young bloods take to scattering piles of laboriously accumulated gold A practical philosopher reckons there are but three 74 A SON OF GAD generations between shirt sleeves and shirt sleeves. The time came when the great-grandson of Alexander Linnie discerned shirt sleeves ahead more clearly than was at all pleasant, and he bethought him how they were to be thrust out of sight. " I^rd ! no shirt sleeves in my day," he prayed, with an unci . of the inmost soul. Where- fore Rollo was bred to if law, encouraged by the shining example of his great-j. indfather, and dropped into the multitudinous sea of London to bring up what pearls he could. Now in London it has pleased Providence to set fools and wise men in the proportion of ten thousand to one. Thus the man of wit has a wide choice, and Mr. Rollo Linnie was no fool. Latter-day morality mixes and refines too much, compounding merits and defects so thinly that genius, which thrives on lustiness, dies of inanition. Not by half measures are eminent saints or sinners mad*' ; not by keeping the ear bent to catch the voice of con- science do practical men come to greatness. Happily for himself, Mr. Rollo Liimie's gifts were virginal and un- adulterate. Therefore he played the game without scruple. He saw misguided people dash headlong into action and smiled. Intuition and an aversion to toil enabled him very early to divine that the chief end of man is not gained by vulgar work, and he meant to travel to fortune by the easiest and quickest way. " Pooh, my dear fellow," he answered, when someone asked when he intended to buckle to, " the art of success lies in getting others to buckle to for you. I am develop- ing my plans." "Setting your snares," quoth the other unkindly. Linnie only smiled. " Show me a man who goes into any worldly transaction to benefit the other side, and I'll pull up stakes," he returned. "Till then " 7S ENTER MR. ROLLO LINNIE " Number one," put in the other. "And, my dear sir," answered Linnie, "to whom or to what does a man owe devotion, if not to number one? I love to think that charity, Hke other virtues, begins at ho. e. Ta,ta." " In London his ;,ood angel procured him an introduction to the Ogilvies. whom he instantly recognised as big game. He followed them to Scotland, and Ttviot Hall being withm easy distance of DunveagV, the elder Linnie as representing the county families promptly took the millionaire under his wing. This he did partly on his own account, but chiefly on his son's. For wlh luck and the blessing of heaven, Rollo's angling might have golden results. CHAPTER XII TREASON THE laird on his craggy height tore the wrappings from his foot, lit his pipe, wasting half a box of fusees in the process, and betook himself in a fever of vexation to the solitude of the hills to think. As a preliminary he tried to pick a quarrel with Janet and failed. That incensed him the more, and striding forth, he found excuse for calling Ian Veg the biggest ass in three counties. "You might be a Sassenach or a Yankee for all the sense you have," he roared. " I don't know what I do with you here." " Nor me too, sir," answered Ian meekly. And the laird, again baffled, passed on, snorting. It is idle to waste words on a man who won't fight. Alick escaped a trouncing by being absent on an erranj. Such exercises scarcely conduce to calm thinking, and in truth the laird was furiously wroth. For his son, the apple of his eye, the guardian of his honour, was guilty of a crime too heinous for speech — the crime of bending the knee to the enemy. In the past the MacLeans had bled for their faith, suffered fines and confiscation, lived like foxes in holes and caves of the earth ; but never in love or hate had they flinched. For their friends the open hall ; for their foes the unsheathed sword — that had always been the religion of the MacLeans. But now — •"Will you walk into my parlour ? ' said the spider to the fly." 76 TREASON jj And the fly walked in eagerly. Had the sun or India withered Norman's pride that he should demean his father's house? Had a degenerate world corrupted him to the forgetting of the blood that flowed in his veins? " You must go, father," he had said, bending to disgrace. The laird had revolted at thought of that base surrender; but unhappily he could not put his son in chains, and bhnd with infatuation, Norman went off at the first beclcon- mg to sit at the Ogilvies' table, to drink the Ogilvies' wine, doubtless to revel in the Ogilvies' magnificence. Worse yet, he returned in a flush of gratification. " Ihe Ogilvies are very pleasant people," he dared to say. "You do them an injustice. I assure you they're delightful— no side, no pretence, no humbug of any sort for all their wealth." Unable to answer fittingly, the laird took to tht; heather to consider his shame. For companion he had Moses, the wise old deerhound, so named, the laird once explained, because he was an incarnation of that spirit of meekness which led the great lawgiver to slay the Egyptian. Many a solitary walk the pair had together, communing like brothers. When the laird fell into one of his violent tantnims, Moses wagged his Uil in lively sympathy and appreciation. Similarly, when Moses, in the interest of his own dignity, found it necessary to turn over an impudent mongrel cur and make the fangs meet in its throat, the laird was ever ready to uphold him against the owner of the mangled dog. Each had the talent for war; and both contrived to get a great deal of their favourite amusement. On a mossy stone in the hollow of the hills the laird sat, anger and dejection working upon him in almost equal parts. At his feet Moses crouched expectantly. "Tell you what it is, Moses, my boy," remarked the MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TIST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 21 _^ APPLIED IM^GE Inc ^^^ '653 East MoJn Street S'-S Rochester. New York 14609 USA "— C^ie) *82 - 0300 - Phone ^= (716) 288 - 5989 - Fax ii ill 1 i t 'i ! 78 A SON OF GAD laird, looking down. "This world is going post-haste to perdition." Moses wagged his tail as if the sentiment were exactly his own. " Going to perdition," repeated the laird. " Yes ; there's no doubt of it when a man can no longer depend on his own flesh and blood." The shaggy, upturned countenance looked exceedingly sage ; the eye seemed moist with pity. "Ah, Moses! you don't know what it is to be a father." Whereat the eye of Moses gleamed with a new emotion, as if to say, " My dear friend and master, don't you rush to conclusions. You know the frailty of man; but have you fathomed the folly of dogs? Believe me, a dog has his own troubles. Ah ! these family vexations." For half an hour the laird bent, chin sunk on breast, in a fiery revene; and Moses, finding his interest gone, went placidly to sleep, for a dog in the sun is the model of a practical philosopher. His master, less happy, was turning over for the twentieth time the iniquity of the world and the tragic lot of fathers, when he was disturbed by the click of an iron-shod boot on a stone, and looking up quickly he saw Alick's back bobbing out of sight. Putting his fingers m his mouth, he whistled peremptorily. Moses sprang to his feet, bristles on end, growling. Knowing better than to disregard such a summons, Alick promptly wheeled. ' "Come back here," shouted the laird, as if Alick were an escaping criminal. Alick obeyed, and Moses lay down again, his nose between his forepaws, alert for emergencies. "Well, and where have you been, eh?" demanded the laird severely. " Up in the hill, sir," answered Alick in his most innocent manner. TREASON you could come down Heh' •' """' '"'^ "^^^ "^ ''^^°- footlrthtCt^ff '^-^ ^'"'=''' '""'^""^ — i'y rrom one -withering top trboti'°"' '" ,"' '^'^ ^"-^ 'he feet would saylbut'l^aveSwi^'' ' ^^ ''"°" '■''« >»" ■"ust go up beforelL '"°"^'' '° understand one Now. ff itwirri7A>°T%'°"'"- ^^'' ■"<^-d. doing up in the hiH ? " ' ^"'' ^'^''' "^at were you "Seeing Donald, sir" everyone has the wit to lau^h fn »T u *''' *^' "°' sure that I'n, too wlJ^jS in tha! "''' ^'"''- ''"^ "°' that's by the way. As K^en 1 . "'^f '"^'^''- B"' tell me, now, whit yot w«e sljn u^™""' "*" ^°" ;Thegathering..^answ:::dS °""^'""'" toS"?osi'trr^'^ ^°--<' - ■nch or two, as ir 8o A SON OF GAD ilS ) " Ay," he said, " the gathering ; and will you have the goodness to tell me who sent you to see Donald about the gathering ? " He spoke quietly, but Alick's acute ear detected the pre- lude of tempest in the tone. " Ian Veg, sir," was the reply. " And who told Ian Veg to send you ? " " I — I don't know, sir." " Alick Ruah," said the laird, bending yet a little further forward, " you're a hard bit of a nut to crack, but we're going to reach the kernel this time. Now, think again, and tell me who asked Ian Veg to send you to Dormld." "Indeed, sir, I'm not sure," replied Alick, with great earnestness ; " but it's in my mind, sir, it was the captain." "Do you think, Alick Ruah, that by any chance you would be likely to catch a weasel asleep when there's mice and rabbits and things about ? " " No, sir." Alick's reply was prompt and emphatic, for he knew the weasel. " I was thinking that," said the laird. " When Alick's interested his weather eye is uncommonly wide, and a thing doesn't get into his mind for nothing or without reason. And you tell me it was by the captain's orders Ian Veg sent you to Donald. One point more, have you in your own mind any notion why the captain gave Ian Veg such an order ? " "No, sir, not a notion," was the quick response. For once Alick was gratified to be able to plead honest, down- right ignorance. "You're quite in the dark," remarked the laird. "Well, can you tell me about the gathering? I haven't heard." "Oh!" -etumed Alick, "Ian Veg wanted to know if Donald would be ready for this day week, because he wanted to send word to the neighbours." 8i TREASON "Go on," said the laird grimly "vn.'r^ • . over with information. WhaT «id' Dnn'."!, ™""'"^ business?" ^'° Donald to the "He said, sir, he didn't care " stiirroSdtn"- "''"'^' P^°^-'^ '° '"^ 'aird being ^;^_with it," said the ,aird. "He said he didn't to te?L\g hTdLTca''^" r^'- ^"'^ "^ '°'<^ - cuddy when it was" '~"^' '^"'■^^ °^ ^ '«Wer's himrptii::Snd°r r-'^- ^^'" •'- '° -.c cuddy, Licic r undS° h'^ T°'^ '"""'-'^ arranged for this day week?" ' ' "'^ ^""'^"'"g '== "Yes, sir." me"''You Ln^'i'- ""•'""'='' °''"^^'' '° V- ^r tell , that, if i^ :i^^\z^^:r,:^^!i^°-orso.j him. And hark you AuTTt' J^ ^ ^°"^ *"h shears you ever saw ffrV.' T "'" '"°'" ^"""erful to continue Wen^;;;?! T'^ '""« '""^ues. If we're You understand ?" "■' '° '"^^"^^ ^"^^ -" 'his. the'E^tord se?r ^-rr-Pe^^ec.,y; and tongue. ' * ''■^'^'^ he could put on his a word with you." ' '" " ""'" "''"^' ^"-^ """W hke to "r^::Z '°" '"'"" '^^•"^"'^^'^ ^-' --hly touched as 'ift LTthe" 1° r?:::i ?, ''™^^'^'" — <^ Alick, things over and eJhaiiirWet^ '" ''^ •>«"'' -^ ^^^^ n 8i A SON OF GAD m •ii "Just himself," repeated Ian. "So you and the laird danders round confabin' and collogin' just like t-venty- year-old cronies. Man, it's a wonder, Alick Ruah, that you will dirty yer tongue speakin' to common folk after that. As he tells you everything, what does he want with me?" " You'll know soon enough," returned Alick, discreetly moving beyond range; and he looked so knowing, and at the same time so saucily provoking, that Ian was torn between a desire to be gracious in order to get news and to make an example of him for his impudence. Within an hour Ian was summoned to the little back room, where he found the laird alone, with a pipe in full blast. Ian expected a storm and found the most genial sunshine. " Ian," said the laird, as if he had never been rvffled in his life, " I've been thinking about the gathering. It's about time, isn't it ? " "Yes, sir, it's time," answered Ian, with remarkable alacrity. The laird ran over his engagements, his face puckering in perplexity. He was dreadfully pressed; it was simply intolerable what a poor man had to do. "There's all that, and more, Ian," he said hopelessly, naming some of the matters that pressed most urgently. " We must make a push, that's all," he added, like one prepared to sit up o' nights if need be. " I think we'll maaige for this day fortnight." Something clicked in lan's throat. "Send up and let Donald know," continued the laird, " and see to all the ther necessary arrangements." Ian shuffled as in pain. " I wass thinking, sir, maybe it would be better to have it a little sooner," he ventured, his throat suddenly parched. He ran over his reasons, the laird listening gravely and TREASON with an evident desire to assent R„» k u , as o^ Who .s so„owru„, i\ Sse.^ ''-' '^^ '^^ please." ^ ""'«'''• ^^ X""' plans for that. ...^■Ji'"S.iTr^'r •"' " * "The laird was nlT *k ! ^" '^^ '=*P*^'"? '-n; "oh. yes he ti iVt t'' '" ^'«^' -'^~ biggest ass in Scotland'. ' ^""'''^ "° '^°°' am the The laird, watching from his window, chuckled hin^serrr rrr ^r "^^ ^^^"-"''^ -icl to be deciding t ^ lrw"ich^i??rr " '"^"^V'il °". at in the corning Wet Jl^:^^.'''^ *"' ''"^ '° «^' I f CHAPTER XIII A DIPLOMATIC BATTLE TAN found the captain, and, with a fallen face, told his 1 tale. Thereupon the captain found the laird; but neither appeared to have any thought of the sheep-shear- ing. As two perr ons with the same matter burning like an acid at their hearts assume an elaborate indifference to Its existence, till suddenly, as at a chance prick of memory, one calls out, "Oh, by the way, that reminds me, or "Upon my word, I had quite forgotten," so these two, sitting down affectionately to outwit each other, talked of things "from China to Peru"— crops and weather contrasts between East and West, who was married, who' dead, and who in prison, but never a word of the real subject of their thoughts, till a casual reference to sheep suggested shearing. Then Norman was reminded how he had looked forward to the great summer event, how on fnzzlmg stations in India he had in fancy inhaled the scents of windy moors and heard enraptured the music of bleating and barking, of the clicking of shears, and the laughter of shearers. The laird listened, his eye twinkling curiously. "Ay," he remarked, "all that's doubtless fine to dream of when you are far away. But I never suspected you had so much poetry in you, Norman. Perhaps it's true what I once heard, that every Highlander is at heart a poacher, 1 smuggler, a lover, and a poet. Have you ever tried to jingle on your own account?" 84 A DIPLOMATIC BATTLE «. "No, sir, never." * -ang the lyr.ZTl^^'tj^J^ ''"' "''' '^ that little good ever came of ?h» '. ™^ ^nviction other day I read in TT °^"'*,P°«'s 'r^de. Only the fellow's deveri T„ rh:"'' °' P""""'= ««^' '"«' ">e pounds, besideX UrVr ""^ ^^ '>""<''«> odd I should have b^rt^'.K- "' '"""""^ '«<=''. '«'« very clipping not an hL'^rSwon^h ""^ """' '"«' wait; weVe arranged JthisI;Vrt„iHr '" '°"« '° ™tetSSCSlV™-- face over a blasted hope unless h h.T , ^'"^ * '"'^ of a fight Norman Ked ^^ 7^1^; ^ " note^r'thtLt""'^''-" '' '^^'^'^' - '^ -"^n- mental ■ai^i^a't at'l""i f""^.^' "^ "''" ''-•" -«» '"e 'ikely to hold.''aS"l\rt y'o" t^ 1^"^'''" -- your dream of a good clippii » ^^^PPO'^ed in ani'°a:xr„^i.,:roiL°^T^^^^ ^^^r - ^^^ invited her to the clinnin; f I "."^PP^n^d that he had -ponded with'": Z^^eZct'uTt:^;'' ^ EoliSl^^if -" i-^-^^^ a picnicTre^r af T^J r^"^ '" "^««"S and exhibit his own SLSr ootW with ZT '""^r' '° the talk of the county But in 7u / "^ "''° '^^ ■nems for ascendi^ ?;ribi J'LT' f ^' "'-S- called out, "That's bv cZi. a u ^'^ ^"- OP'vie as if inspi;Jby ht imrofTh? "''°^^^^ '■"•-">, aside on the cue ^ ^" ^""''' Bonnie whipped 86 A SON OF GAD "Oh, Captain MacLean!"she cried, "I have heard so much of the romance of sheep -shearing. You are a Highlander. Will you tell me about it?" The instant answer was, " Will you come to see it, Miss Ogilvie?" And despite the wet blanket promptly cast upon the scheme by Rollo, the invitation was as instantly accepted. " Yes, dear, you certainly ought to go," put in Mrs. Ogilvie by way of confirmation. " This world has not many better things than a Highland iheep-shearing under a blue sky." It was a favourite topic of hers. Indeed, her chief joy in the grandeur of old age was to transport Connift from the dazzle and magnificence of Fifth Avenue to remote hills and glens mystically purple with heather, mystically yellow with broom, and invested with a thousand sacred memories of happiness and grief, of triumph and defeat, of love and death. And Connie, who had the American giri's eager, sensitive intelligence superadded to the Scottish glo-v of imagination, revelled in those tales of humble, romantic lives and wild hillsides. So that when Norman's invitation came, seconded by Mrs. Ogilvie, her heart leaped out responsive as at the touch of ancestral things. "I hope it will be soon," she said rapturously, when she had thanked Norman. "You see the impatience of the American girl. Cap- tain MacLean," laughed Mr. Ogilvie. "If she's going a trip to the moon she must travel by lightning express." "Thanks, papa dear, for the inheritance," retorted Connie, with a filial duck. "The American girl is— what shall I say? A limited edition of the American father, specially bound." "An idition de luxe," murmured Norman. She turned on him a radiant look, and noted, not without surprise, the crimson suffusing the Indian tan on his cheek. 87 A DIPLOMATIC BATTLE "That's very pretty, Captain MacLean. she re- sponded, an expression in her eyes that smote to the heart of Rollo. "Papa talks of impatience. If he got his way he'd have us all travelling by electricity at a minimum rate of a hundred and fifty miles an Lour, and he thinks he'll manage it yet— in America. The Bntish people are still, I understand, muddling over the alphabet of the science of locomotion. And I must say that beside our palace cars their stuffy wooden boxes are— are dreadfully trying." It was odd to find this lovely blossom of womankind stnking thus into the dust of industrial highways. It may be doubted whether Norman had much attention for the criticism, but there was no question of the en- chantment of the critic, who, as it seemed, could invest logarithms with a heart, and endue the integral cal- culus with sentiment. It was strange, sweetly strange, to one bred in British proprieties, which make woman either a drudge or a doll, to find a masculine sense and knowledge of affairs flowing from that soft mouth, a mouth so piquantly rich, so delicately moulded, that in very truth it reminded him of the poet's rosebud in the first flush of bloom. Honey and song were better suited to those lips, but then economics became honey and song in passing them. All the while Rollo watched as one watches a vic- torious rival and enemy beating down with ridiculous ease the outworks of one's chosen fortress. What in- fernal caprice was this? Nay, it was worse than c?price. It was deliberate rudeness. "Clipping," said Rollo to himself in the bitterness of resentment. "Ay, it'll be a bonnie sight to see the last hope of ths MacLeans snipping at dirty sheeptails like the rest of the beggarly clan." Rollo was petulant over his first reverse, and also vmdictive, for his instinct was to crush the penniless 88 A SON OF GAD interloper on the spot and, figuratively speaking, cast him out to the ravens. Norman had no eye for this new enmity, nor indeed would he have troubled about It had he had a year to note and con. For he was under the spell, not of the millionaire's daughter (there his blood would have rebelled), but of the lovely girl whose charming naturalness made him forget her riches, whose graciousness and vivacity were at once magnet and tonic. He was not aware that Conmes heart swelled gently in pity for the disinherited. Had he guessed that he would have flung out, hugging his fatuous Highland i-ride like a thorn . his breast. She heard the story of the MacLeans of Dunveagle with glowmg sympathy, and the indignant comment, What a shame!" Later, in that evening hour when tender sentiments steal unaware into the heart, sh^ sat at her window, cheek on hand, musing. Even into this quiet spot the tragic ironies of life penetrated, and she was concerned in them, in a sense was at the core of them, not as victim, but more or less as o-use. Sighing unconsciously, she lifted her eyes upon the darkling woods ; thence they rose slowly to the craggy uplands ablaze with ruddy gold. All that had once been his. How hard, how monstrously unfair were so^ie of the methods of fortune The feeling made her o. ;-alely considerate in her bear- mg towarus Norman. Besides, she confessed to herself pnvily, he was very hand-.ome and courteous and manly and took disaster without either venom or repining! "That's grit," she told herself, falling back on the racy western vernacular, and of all qualities in man she admired gnt most. Then Rollo's gallantries were becoming tedious, and beyond doubt beginning to savour of presumptioa At that thought the red lips compressed themselves dan- gerously. Mr. Rollo Linnie had better be careful lest he found himself carrying too much sail for his ballast. They A DIPLOMATIC BATTLE g his fine face. «„d manly wljs.' "" """"« "'^'"^y- of tht'^iiiTjisr:; sr."!? ^^'^ "'^'"«-- admiration in o the exnr«!i f "*'''"'' *'"' * "'°'»enury of hai. thougHtt :rs;\^:^t':;^ dismissed it from his minrt tJJ °Silvie. and decisively, because 6700 IsZ^" """^ '° "^^ =° think with the head, or see Th .hJ ' "^ °ne-nd-thirty heart of threescoreUten The oroT' "i"'."" ""^ to make threescore^nd-ten thlk wTh 1""'^ '- ' "'' '^ith the eyes, and feel w"th T T r '""''' '^'^ '^ How was it to be done? '"'*" °^ one^d-thirty. Jej!shS?::::e'riitb°'; ^ " "^^ ^^^- ^^ from his thoughts drew 1 ?'",' '" "" *"'''■ '"^"hest scurried away S from? '",8?"?"'^- d'°PPed a hint, and a powder mSale^cXb 7f "^""^ "'"PP^" ■"'» ever a little Jose" like lb "d ttf' "'"'""^ '='°'^^' ^"^ afraid of a uap Thin rnl '''"'' P^°"""''^'' ^^t is problem like a despe2 rh' '"'■ "'"''• ""' '''''''''' ^^^ and that, invertineTtlTn r''""""' '"'''"^ " '^is way opening ;„r shadlt/n ? T^l'' '"'T''^ -"^- "^"^^ ^°' 'he laird, laughing here 90 A SON OF GAD ! y and blindly misunderstanding there, exhibited an obtuse- ness and frivolity sufficient to drive any schemer frantic. Now a great man, whose cunning gave him control of the councils of Europe, has said, " In a diplomatic contest, if you want to win, tell the truth. Any fool can bungle with prevarication and circumlocution. Naked truth is for experts, and in heir hands is deadlier than the best-devised falsehood." At the end of half an hour's futlli skirmishing Norman blundered upon Bismarck's simple plan. When the card, so carefully hidden up the sleeve, at last came out, the laird drew up, frowningly. "So, then, all this is for the pleasure of an Ogilvie," he said severely. " Rather, sir, for the honour of a MacLean," answered Norman. "How's that?— how's that?" demanded his father brusquely. Then, with the convincing simplicity of a child, Norman described the little bout of rivalry at Dunveagle. "I was, perhaps, presuming a little on the precedent set by yourself," he explained. "Old and young, the Ogilvies sang your praises for your kindness when they visited you. Upon my word, sir, it did my heart good to hear them. With a sneer that nearly brought the back of my hand slap into his false face, Linnie made some remark. Then— you know how unaccountably such things happen- there arose a sort of contest before we knew what we were about. I won ; that's all. And now, sir," he ended, with the conscious assurance of virtue, " I transfer the matter to your hands." " Oh Lord, keep it to yourself," cried the laird, fidget- ing on his seat. " Keep it to yourself; I have no taste for trokings of the kind. Besides, I have arranged the clipping for this day fortnight." " Shall I express your regrets, then, and say the engage- ment for this day week is off?" asked Norman calmly. A DIPLOMATIC BATTLE " My regrets ! " retorted his father " i k '' :;" '; ™ rr '■""- ""- -isrir-x' *-..„», ill- ™rr:,,tit giving such reasons as may seem fit " ' " Reasons ! " repeated the laird. " Why sho„M „, • reasons? Who is entitled to reasons?!, t. ^"" enough that I have decided it?" ^' " "°' ^"^°" 'f tl'S: °"ir:s:'v'R r;'^««-^ Gorman, rising as has miscarried? ' °"° """"'^ *'" ^ S'^<1 "X p4ect gathering f^'Z dty we ^not T' T ^"^^^^^ ">•= OgilvieastospiteaLLl?: ° """'' '° P'^« =>" Jorman owned he guessed correctly. The laird's face '■l"JpSeSTlire''^'?t"-'''-'''''"d.'l-n.ip, Morefhanlhlt t wa* '"', '^ '"™^^ ''"^ ^^^"^ »" >"«: out, with those ih„ '" ""'^ "' ' "''"'^"^'. your laziest fL fir' ' "' ''' "^ '^^ >°" P"«-g CHAPTER XIV AN EXCHANGE OF CIVILITIES \"'i\ NORMAN went forth from his father's presence with a smothered sense of iniquity and a vivid feeling of elation. That he owed his victory to Linnie was plain as the sun in the heavens ; for if his father did not loathe the sublime RoUo with a loathing bitter as death there certainly should be no clipping on that day week. With philo- sophical reflections on the uses of an enemy, Norman lighted a cigar. This was not the first time that a foe had stood him in good stead. He owed promotion and the D.S.O. to misguided adversaries who had not the sense to accept the inevitable quietly and at the right moment. Well, heaven helps those who have wit enough to help themselves. That night Captain MacLean lay a long time awake, dreaming delectably. Eight years before he had fled from the distress and confusion of family ruin; he came back in doubt and hesitation because his father wished to see him again b°fore going the way whence there is no return. He expected no enjoyment, and behold this delightful surprise. Was Fate beginning to relent? Next day he called at Dunveagle to learn Miss Ogilvie's pleasure in the matter of arrangements, and was persuaded to stay for luncheon, the more easily perhaps that Mr. Rollo Linnie was of the company ; and Mr. Linnie's thin lips grew yet thinner in a grin of pain as the plans were 92 AN EXCHANGE OF CIVILITIES 93 SinThr '"PP;"8 'tself, Norman explained, promised ttJe m the « , of adventure; perhaps Miss OgiMe would 1 H^ u' '""""« °^ "'^ g^'hering as wdl. She re- r.ttr^^'"''^'^°^^'''-^''^°"°-''^''-H:jd me"?'^'''A " l''""'"'" ^'^ "''^' "'''" y°" '-■^^ -charge of me? A sudden vertigo came upon Rollo, the effect of which was to make him grin inanely. "Connie, Connie," put in Mrs. Ogilvie, "you must not his'^suaT c"",'"'"'"" f ';""'" "'■"' ^ S°°<1 ''-' >«''^ than his usual coolness replied that Miss Ogilvie was in no ZTj "''^'--.f"'y of imposition, and that he, C^ptZ felicty, to be entrusted with such a charge. At that moment an unearthly cackle came from RoUo; his face was ;«hy grey, like the face of one mortally sm tten and ndeed incredible things were happening in this a^c 5 'he beggar and the queen. The insolence of the beggar any fool could understand; but, in heaven's name, X was the queen thinking of? Was she in jest or in earnest The question was soon answered. ■'I'sInnM'^ f 1:,'>*PP'"^^' '" every feature of her face, I should dearly hke to see a gathering. Grannie has told me so much about these things. Would it be too much trouble to arrange for me, Captain MacLean ? " Mrs. Ogilvie, chancing to glance at Rollo just then was «o express a fear he was not enjoying his luncher He looked up with a ghastly simper on his grey face S°," t u'T" ""' "^^^^ ^"i°yed -'ything more, and nearly choked on the assurance. As if to add t^ h^ torture, Miss Ogilvie struck in mischievously. she askeThr' '""^'"PP'"^^ '"'^ g^'^erings, Mr. Linnie?" She asked, her eyes bnght with mockery. 94 A SON OF GAD ! i i Oh, yes, he cared; in fact he was passionately fond of them. Most romantic— he, he— liked sheep all his life ; had once— he, he— been nearly drowned by falling head foremost into a tub of sheep-dip. Trok a drink before he could help it. Beastly. A shepherd held him up by the heels and let the stuff run out. Ha, ha. Evincing a pretty interest. Miss Ogilvie asked if he had had many such experiences. Oh, bless her heart, lots! And he told of dog-fights, cat-fights, goat-fights, boy- fights, and other events likely to thrill the heart. Thus he was led on, hot, flustered, floundering, and fearfully unhappy. He cooled into haughty, icy reserve going down the long avenue with Norman after luncheon. They walked in silence till they reached the great gate; then RoUo's re- sentment boiled over in a sarcastic remark on the joys of sheep-shearing. The winning man can afford to be genial, and Norman took the reference pleasantly. "Since you are interested," he said, "you may honour us by being one of the party ? " As he expected, this increased the overflow of bile. "Never mind," he thought; "the anger of the pot never gets beyond the ashes." "Thanks," returned Rollo, flinging his nose in the air, " but I never put my spoon in another man's kail." " The habit that Neil had he always stuck to," rejoined Norman urbanely. "You'll have heard of Mackillop'b invitation ? " "What was it?" demanded RoUo. " Oh, just take or leave ! " was the response. "Mackillo^," said the tingling Rollo, "was one of the gentlemen who were from home when good manners were dealt out." " Maybe like Saul, the son of Kish, he was out looking foi his father's asses," rejoined Norman, with exasperating AN EXCHANGE OF CIVILITIES said wl„'?h""" T '^'' '''"" ^' ^^P'' « 'he silly woman said when she sowed oatmeal." retorted Norman The muscles of Rollo's face twitched in rage insults^lr^-hTir^^'"""''"'''^''^^'-^-^'"^ "And°on^o^^'''"^ "'""'" '■'P''^'* '*°™^" indiSerently. And on your present warning, for which I am obliJ take aV"'r° '"""' '" '^ '^"^ "^^ "'^--^^ "ouM In 1 K I '"' '° """"'^ '° '^"•^elf But here we a e for two l:!""^- ^'""'^' *'^'^''' » ^-"^y. '« -"enough for^two. Suppose we try the plan of each going his own Ro'ilo"' ""'' '°"°" "' '"^ "^"'"S- ^'^ -'e." snorted noii,^" V *'°'"P^'' °^ '*° ^""^ '«'h of one mind there's nothmg for .t but agreement," returned Norm^ Zl w.th a sm.e that was as the thrust of a dThe w"s throug., a wicket and knee-deep in bracken n », Dunveagle woods. Oracken-a trespasser m Rollo watcher' with drumming arteries as long as the r reatmg figure was visible. "Damn you!" he ItTerlJ h.s fingers clmching as on the other's throat. "Curse £ :S.o-m?;S^rtSS.°^- ^---^ -.rr^h^fTrerr""*---^--- him sir-" J:,: ;^ ,? ?: "^'^ °' ^ '^'^"^"«^'" '•^ '°"> concerned if^ ^^ """"'^^ *°"'d ^^'isfy all concerned, If the game were worth the candle" How could Mr. Linnie know that as a swordsman Captain MacLean was the pride of the Indian army, and ha^S n lli is; ill: i'il 96 A SON OF GAD disarmed the boast of the Paris fencing ring? Ignorance is sometimes at once a bliss and a blessing. The arrangements for the sheep-shearing involved an mcredible number of interviews with the Ogilvies, most of them long. Throughout the ladies were in a simmer of enthusiasm; but Mr. Ogilvie, as was his wont, watched, withholding comment until all was ready. Then, being alone with his daughter, he remarked between puffs of dear smoke— " "Con, I like your friend Captain MacLean. He's got his head on in the right way-and he needs it, for I can see he plays a hard part." Connie smiled, not without a dainty suffusion of colour. " Ves, I like him. But your other friend Mr. Linnie hates him like poison. You'd better look out. I want no blood spilt on my doorstep." "I think," she returned, her smile suddenly hardened into a frown, " I think Mr. Linnie is one of the enterprising gentlemen who, given an inch, proceed to help themselves to an ell. At times he acts as if he thought he had a sort of right of pre-emption. And I can see he treats Captain MacLean with studied rudeness." Her father looked hard at her. "Well," he said, "I daresay Captain MacLean knows how to take care of himself. As to notions of pre-emption, nothing pre-emptive is admitted here. You understand?" She answered in the affirmative, remarking at the same time that she could not help pitying the MacLeans, their lot was so hard. " I don't know," responded her father, "that we owe the MacLeans much pity. There was a time when their pity did not extend to us. Not," he explained, " that I believe in raking up the past. A busy man has better employ- ment than auditing accounts of old dead wrongs. But in AN EXCHANGE OF CIVILITIES „ rond..g the cub. one can, help .^e.bering How .he Z charmed and touched » * ^"^"'^ *as you are old you'll perhaos , 'T ? ^""^^"^ When -dily g-m/howev^h^TaS '" '"'""«"• ^ gracious, and graciousn'ess Isf Se heerd^T"^'^ sidenng who is at Dunveaele B„f 1 ^^". '^'^cult. con- 'till a gentleman. AtThe same . " '' "^"'^^ « yourself niistaken ifZuLT.T^ ^°" ""'eht find ^, ., 'f you construed his civility as good- " You don't mean to call him a hypocrite ? « ck ■ . -:^ro?^S'-"'^-="^.^^, s2Z^''" ''^ -P-'^-^ '-edulously. thinking of coii;?ruj;rerurs:^ i,-"« ^^^es. revenge," was the repir-'Trbl "."' «'°*'* "P"'' and broadswords is S O^r ^^^^f' "*" '^^ °^ "^''ks and » • °" ■"e'hods are more refined person he hated by the beard 1h /""^ ^°°^ *e fifth rib in the -i4 ekSe wTy'.Sht'tolir'^^ murder is both a crime anH „ 7 "?"', ''^ '^^ay when Being a plain mL Tw, *""*? "^ ^ood manners. OnlylwLtoZlhltr .r^' "^"' '""='' ''"btleties. everyonetowhomheiscivil. Is t^ Jn ^T, £ 98 A SON OF GAD ! ;P rings genuine, and I like his straight look. In a deal I'd take his word as readily as his bond." "And what of Mr. Linnie?" asked Connie, with a little thrill of curiosity. " Ask me later on," was the answer. " You start at four in the morning, don't you ? " " Earlier," she replied. " We start at daybreak." " Then, if it's fine, you'll see something worth remember- ing all your life— a Highland dawn. During the last twenty years I have seen many a midnight, but few dawns. I've a mind to go out also. You ride, of course. Who goes as your guide ? " " Captain MacLean has told off the boy Alick for that duty, because he says none of our men would be of any use among the heather." "Well, be careful," said her father. "Be careful. It would be unpleasant to fall over a precipice or stick in a bog." Thus Dunveagle. At Craigenard Ian Veg spoke darMy with Alick, touching the happy results likely to come of an unforeseen and absolutely unavoidable accident to horse and rider. I \': ■'> CHAPTER XV IAN LEADS INTERLOPERS A DANCE Tl';iv:s.r;r "° "^'-^ - -''^"'- since it furnishes oc^aS for ^7'/' J"^^^ '^ -"■ to his sore vexation coulrt 7 ► ^°'"' '^n ^eg, lately come under tie 2 ofTh °" "' ""• ^''<='' >>-' could see the captain Ta! /nd !:•"""■ '""^ "'^ ''""d usuT^ersatDunvS TdeeH / .'r" ''P^" °^ '"e .hat his -ster-sXn': r\ ri;- -'^ ^"""^ m whom the family hatP .h™ m ^ ''°"°"' '■«ted, infatuation. Alight couwl''"f- "" '"'"■'<=''«• '° effectively with the stick but thf "^ Peremptorily and could not be applied t^™! "^ "^"""^-^ '^^"»-t oJlvir-'would^eX^llT""'' '''' *^ "''"«y It was the way of al Zn t"'"^" """ e""** '""ks- especially the way of Amen^n '' ""''erstood it was matter over in hi ownrnrhr"'."' "'^ '"™'"« "»« Which d.w on him the:hr;pL""o?;a„r " '^"^''^^ «^nGS:r.r :Snrt:r^ ^-'^^^ ^-•■•'^^ a poodle on a string." °' '° ''^^^ our Norman like quZSetS; '"^ -"^^ -""^ "''« to be her poodle." -"SL:/:mVo^rdif:t7i,n '" '^^°'--- 0' no..- and he snap^d his ^^ 1^^;''^ «- ^"^r her 99 I \ li lOO A SON OF GAD "If I was you, I'd say my prayers for a pickle sense, Ian Veg," said Janet, with provoking calmness. "It's a fine day when the fox preaches," cried Ian, and bounced away, convinced that the very air was treacherous. He called for Alick, with a vague notion of beginning a course of correction on the spot, but was balked, for Alick happened to be receiving final instructions from the captain. His look of elation made Ian comment mentally, " We'll take that out of you, my lad." It added piquancy to the situation that Ian was himself appointed guide, an honour conferred upon him because he knew crag and chasm and peak as the faces of his daily friends. No one thought of calling to mind that he also knew the most perilous paths, the deepest, ooziest channels, and most treacherous bog holes, nor did anyone suspect his secret satisfaction in the knowledge. While the moorlands we:e still a spectral, chilly grey, they were out ; Ian and his two collies leading, and Connie some twenty paces behind on her pony, with Alick alert at its head and the captain attentive by the stirrup. The rider tingled in suppressed excitement. She had imagined a lightsome voyage of discovery, and, lo! an uncanny adventure into Dantesque regions of gloom. In her fancy mountains had always stood Uughing in sunshine or robed in the majesty of tempest; never in this darkling weirdness that was neither night nor day, neither sunshine nor mist. Looming in stupendous vagueness, they reminded her of bergs unveiling minatorily in the path of a fog-bound ship. The intervening wastes, glimmering eerily with grey heath and ebony bog, suggested unholy revels, so that she half expected to have her blood made cold by the gleam of vanishing phantoms or the twinkle of a witch's skirt. Miss Connie had never before looked on the face of the moor- land when it reflects the first faint silver of the east, nor felt the mysterious life of the hills at the parting of light IAN LEADS INTERLOPERS A DANCE .o, and darkness. The place awi-rl • .«j .i, embarrawed. ' ""^ ""•= ^'"P*"^ P«'haps oAV^'LT"."! '"'""'°" ""= '^"'""^J ">e aloofness •■Ih"' " '^T' ""'•" '"P"'^^ Norman in a low voice- jender as a dove, hardy as a wild cat. as true as s;j:i"d down^ "otch-potch of Celtic vice and virtue." she smiled •'And both highly spiced." was the answer. Tell me about him." she said coaxingly. m.le or o. and Ian was too far in advanc to hear. tellil-'hesaM Vt"" ■""" " <=han.cteristic and worth S ' ' '^"'' ^"^ ""* " 'he pith of what he told :- having urgent business elsewhere. It was then w^ down hlnttm„ r , ^ ^ Praymg. came drizzling «own, blottmg out every headland and landmark. Thev S th r%''" t" '°"^ '" '"- °- ~ when' w.th the sensation which no man who has experience/?; "iLTi;:'r;ir^ *" r r •'^"'^-^ *o.cl,rt. „^, tang.,, .p„, .«„ e„. ,|„ . ^^^I^ ;■ !j| II u '°' A SON OF GAD cottage Heaven be praised, here was succour at last. They knocked faintingly. A moment later a nightcapped head popped out above them. and. behold-the astonished ^ce of Ian. He was struck with an exasperating pity. Bless his ht„. and soul, where had they been? He thought they were back to their mothers long ago. The wild, dark, wet hills were no place for pretty gentlemen from London. He was afraid their fine new clothes were ruined, and that was a great pity, for as he knew good clothes were dear. All the same, he hoped they had enjoyed themselves after coming so far for pleasure. Well he was a poor, hard-working man who had to rise early' and so must be bidding them "good night." It wai sociable of them to knock him up in the passing, and he hoped that if they came that way again they would not forget him. With that the head withdrew, and the window went down, not without hints of a satirical chuckle. "Delightful! "cried Connie, who rejoiced in originality, even when it was wicked. " He's mastered the art of tit- for-tat.' Ian heard a peal of frivolous laughter, but aid not deign to look back. " An hour they kept to the primitive road, by which the glen carted home its peats, but the guide, considering the end with himself, took the first chance of striking out among pathless bogs, and, for the sake of stumbling feet behind, quickened his pace. In spite of Alick's utmost vigilance, the pony tripped often and sank, causing much merriment between Miss Ogilvie and her sedulous knight, the captain. It was great fun. this rough-riding, and an adventure to describe at 1 ;ngth in letters to New York. Ian meanwhile, glancing furtively over his shoulder cursed the nimble feet of tbs pony and the traitorous skill of Alick. A cunning touch at the right moment, an art- fully contrived blunder, and the baggage would be head- lAW LEADS INTERLOPEHS A DANCE ,03 foremost into the bUck bog. " I'd ji,t like to «=e ye over the head .„ u/. he thought Mvagely. If ,ho«= sucking bUck hps once got hold I " Onr^l'^i'T *'"'*'" ""°"8'' ""^ •«=*« °^ 'he morass. Once It had been part of the great Caledonian forest, and the mouldenng tree stumps, deceptively wreathed, were st.ll effecuvc stumbling-blocks for the unwary. bH; Zt Ian put most faith in were the slimy holes and ditches, iSv /h 'nf™ - «-'^f""y veiled by luxuriant heather. only AhcK-but that felonious child of Belial was too evidently m league with the enemy. The truth is that the difficulties so carefully devised by c^Id'"!! , "",'''! '"'^"''^ °"'y 'he bom hiUsman could have piloted the pony from tuft to tuft of the shivenng quagmire, between the pools of liquid peat, across the hidden runnels and heather-fringed holes that gleamed hke the eye of a beast lurking privily for prey Al.ck saw everything, and his hand was prompt on the bndle to urge or retard. Unhappily, however, a horse has four feet, and while Alick looked to the pair in front the pony went down behind, or vice vend, so that it was like a boat n a heavy sea, now going down by the head, now by the stem. Moreover, the farther they went the wilder became the plunging. Alick, mire to the eyes, was dripping from effort and excitement, and to mire the captain added a very obvious anxiety Ian. grimly expectant, hopped and leaped with a devilish agility in front. At last a quick cry came from behind. Suspecting a false alarm, he did not turn until the excited voices of the captain and Alick assured him of an accident. What he saw on facing about was a pony embedded to the nozzle, and Miss O^lvie in he captain's arms. The captain was saying something in harp rebuke to Alick, and Alick turned a scarlet, accusing face to Ian. Mr. Mackem noted, as a thing not wholly ill 104 A SON OF GAD unpleasmg, that, despite all her gallant's care, Miss Orilvie had not enfrely escaped the slime. " But I wish," he said to himself as he stepped back, " I wish she was where the powny IS. Examination showed that the pony's hill climbing was done for that day, and that Miss Ogilvie's wrist had been badly twisted. The question was whether she would proceed or return. She felt her wrist, glanced at her miry Skirt, and asked how far they had still to go. "A matter of three mile, and maybe a bittock," an- nounced Ian, giving his imagination rein, and added gratuitously, " The worst three mile in all the hill, too " Connie considered a moment Could Alick return with the pony, and would they bear with her if she went on? Bear with her? The captain would not abide that strain; and Ian suppressed a groan. r.Iw''" ^l ""'^ "' *' '^'^"'^•" ^^ "''^' ^t^rting with a resolution that those who followed sl.ould sweat for it. After five hundred yards of matted heather Connie was glad to take the captam's arm. « Oh, that's it, is it ? " said Ian mentally, casting a backward glance. "If he's going to earn, her like a lame sheep, better begin soon than syne," and struck up an acclivity where only hill-bom toes could I I I CHAPTER XVI TRIUMPH AND DISAPPOINTMENT pONNIE reached the top panting, and as a stratagem y^ to recover breath, drew lan's attention to the glory of crimson and gold now flooding the east. "Ay," he responded, hardly taking the trouble to glance tTmedonM' '^.^'^^ ^'^ ""' ^^ dinner-time,'"" turned on hs heel. There was nothing for it but to follow h.m, and the following was not easy. Sometimes oi: a shppery steep Connie fairly swung on the captain's arm. in a confusion that lent brilliancy to eye and cheek. Once he felt the dancing tumult of her heart against his own. and for one dmne moment experienced the giddy ecstasy of a doubting soul admitted into Paradise. She climbed bravely, but skirts are skirts, and a maid is a maid and matted heather and slippery hill-sides are hard to tread. Wherefore there was closer clinging than one mtended or the other durst exnert n„t n, A ""=' ""f>' expect. But the preoccupation of these personal concerns did not prevent the open-souled American girl from rejoicing in the exhilarating freshness and the onental pomp of colour, here silver-grey, there gold and yonder a burning crimson, with ineffable tints of Lrl electS h''"!"'. "" '•''"' "S''^^ ""^ ="'"'" 'han wine electnfied heart and nerve. "Glorious," she cried, " glorious !" and scrambled upon a low rock. The keen breeze of dawn made her ears tingle pleasantly and brought the bloom of Shiraz to her faL I he blood raced in her veins, every pulse danced exuber- 105 '°^ A SON OF GAD antly. Throwing back her head, she took a deep draught of the hght, perfumed air. "And half these hills," she cried in self-forgetful ecstasy, "belong to Dunveagle." The words were not out when she burned with shame for her cruelty and clumsiness. Oh, how could she have forgotten herself? Looking down in dismay, .he saw the quiver of pain in Norman's face. "Yes," he answered quietly, "half these hill,, belong to Dunveagle." ° "Oh, Captain MacLean ! " she cried in a tense voice. Then all at once she stopped, her lips compressed. The next mstant she leaped from the rock. "Come," she said hurriedly, "or Ian will be wishing you had not brought me." And she climbed two hundred yards of a smooth, steep slope without help. They were beginning to look down on the brooding mists, now shimmering in the sunlight like vast webs of gossamer interwoven with pearls of surpassing lustre. Above the vermilion was fading into dim white, and Norman agreed with Ian in predictions of a blazing day Two thousand five hundred feet above sea-level they paused again to take breath, Connie, thanks to Norman's delicate courtesy, being once more mistress of herself. But they had not admired the kindled radiance more than ?< w"n'!' '*'^'" "'"^ '*"''=• '" ">« inexorable voice of Ian, We'll be jogging." Without waiting for response, he headed for the crest which an hour before had seemed but a short mile away then mysteriously receded to treble that distance, and now alter all the climbing and panting was still half a league "Distances are deceptive among the mountains," Connie remarked, and over the implacable shoulder in front came the single word " Whiles." I TRIUMPH AND DISAPPOINTMENT ,07 But at last with the captain's aid she was on the too pal^^fng and giddy, and, .0! a glory unutterable a gS ceTved She '" '°""-'^^^'' •■"^g'-'-n had never con • Tehhl ** "°' ''^^ ''^'^"'=- She had merely an mdel ble .mpress.on of innumerable domes, a dazzling anit ;id rr "" "''^"'^ P^^^^' '*•'>"' 'he stream! and the wmd of he morning sang enchantingly in her ear. She was startled by a voice at her side, and turning qmckly, found Ian regarding her impatien ly. In sTmf confusion she asked whether he had spoken. I was just saying yonder's the mairch," he announced nd.catmg a stream which was a series of cascades "Ye Sen Gosh -' f ^1' =°" "^ ^ ''y^^ --« 'he hills, i^isten. Gosh! Yon's Donald's dogs " Thereupon he mounted a rock, said something quietly in and left For the next half-hour he gave no heed to his ompamons. A little he directed the dogs by force o lung and frantic waving of arms. Then as they diminished he uL^l sh. w !! ^'J ""''• °"' ='"'1 °"' ^'^"^ 'he dogs until she lost sight of them, but Ian saw them, and blew with piercing variations, which, even to the untutored sense denoted alternate command and rebuke. All at once arl answering whistle came down upon the wind like a cha" back Th"' Tr^.""'' '""' ''^^""y' ^^"^ ^"'^ blast oack. Then the long-drawn modulations changed to notes of exceeding sharpness, flying knots of sheep began to fofth ?,t ^"T ""'"^'°°''' ""'^°"' Norman's explana tion, that the gathering had begun in earnest. An hour later three large droves converged, and a dehcious babel of bleating and barking filled the air It stolidly behind their clamorous flock, flung coats and io8 A SON OF GAD II f: wa.stcoats open to the glowing June sun. The wind had died. It was to be a hot, cloudless day, a perfect para- d,sa,cal day, if one had time to spend the long hours among the odorous heather. Connie followed the baaing multitude, enraptured with the wtld, pathetic music, the appeal of the great gooseberry eyes turned on her as if craving pity, the inimitable ale^ ness of the dogs, the splendour of the summer day, and above all, her own elated feelings. She did not know thai ^ often as occasion served Ian Veg entertained his fellow- shepherds w.th fragments of a character-sketch in which she mnocently played the part of the Babylonish woman Z^u Tk" ""°"^ ^'°''"^ ^^^'- P^^haps it was well fo, lan that the captam was equally ignorant. ,1 J^H ''°'' P'"*^^'^'"" '^^^=^sed a wide, sunlit slope, slanted across a valley, adroitly steering to clear the bogs c ossed a r.dge and in a cosy dip of the hill found the fofd w.th a crowd of people waiting, among whom Connie easii; distmguished the laird. He pushed through sheep, dogs and men. greeting her handsomely; listened with interest to the tale of her ex- periences and impressions, condoled with her on b. mired skirts, said gallant things about young ladies' pluck, and excu.„g himself for having to be in several places at once that day, passed to a comer of the fold where Ian was using unquotable language to beasts that bolted blindly in^every direction save through the gates open to receive "I expected you an hour ago," the laird said br«.quely. What kept you ? " ^ " Ian clutched an obstreperous ram, and without looking up intimated that he was prepared to gather sheep or null horses out of bogs ; but he could not undertake to gather sheep and assist foundered horses at the same time. A dexterous jerk made the ram spring forward through the TRIUMPH AND DISAPPOINTMENT ,09 open gate, and the rest of the flock poured after him. Ian stood up, wiping his brow upon his shirt sleeve. "Maybe, sir," he said, a lowering fire in his eyes, "you will haf seen Alick going down with a horse on three legs If anybody wass to ask me, I would likely say that if it had stopped at home the sheep and the shepherds would be here an hour since, too." "Well, well," returned the laird, wiPing for politic reasons to mollify ihe bristling Ian, "we won't discuss that now. The men look warm, and to say the truth you've appeared cooler yourself many a time. You'll find the bottle in the cart yonder, and, by the way, see that Miss Ogilvie is treated first." Ian found the bottle and glass, sidled up to Connie, and announced bluntly that by the laird's orders she was to dnnk. "What is it?" she asked, beaming upon him in a smile that would have won any heart but his own. "Very good stuff, mjm," answered Ian; "just Highland whisky." His words were polite, but his air imphed he could not for his life understand why good liquor should be wasted on her. "Thanks," she responded in the same engaging manner, " but I really can't drink whisky." Ian might be lacking in goodwill, b t he would not fail m duty. "The laird said it," he rejoined doggedly, and filled the glass. The laird chancing to return at the moment, Connie laughingly protested against a too fiery hospitality. "She says she's not taking whisky the now," Ian ex- plained, with a sidelong look at his master. The laird exploded in Homeric laughter. "Oh, I see," he cried, "it's Ian Veg and the Femtosh. Well, you must understand, Miss Ogilvie that certain of no A SON OF GAD m Tflif ?„?H^'"''°'^'i'"' '"' '""^•' °" "=^'°'^«'""- When like htsh ' isT' f'/"'" ''°"°"" "=' °" - ---n iiKe tnis, she is expected to conform " But as she still hesitated, Ian Veg struck in- .he dUttst itr ■ ' -'' "^ «°'"«- ^' '•- ''■•^'^ 'i- The captain tugged at his moustache in a vehement " We're not going to let Miss Ogilvie off like that " he responded gaHy. To lan's disgust he took the glass t ht own hand, and toadinglyas a serving-man (so thesmouMe mg henchman thought) presented it to Connie wUhtL^^aLd^liiir" ''' '''-'' ^" '-' ^'- She bowed to him, raising the glass with a smile so bewtchxng that for one dazzling half-second Ian almo^ rih ,'^:^^^!,y°™S -d -h; but he crushed the ut worthy feehng down. Janet, if a trifle tart in the tongue S or Jr' '" '' K '' ""^ ^' ''^-^-'^'l '«- hS hnL! T^ T '''°"' '^« •''^^^ ''^^ better for an honest man than this shameless American baggage JIa" ''^'"''' '° """P'y ^"h local custom, she toasted mcaufously. and Ian had the happiness t^ see her gasp and weep. " r^i-w^ as do shrbMs thiid an cridhadh innte" (" That W.1] come out of your nose and pain will go into i ") h» quoted mentally. '' "^ He went off to those who better knew and appreciated the pungency of Highland waters; and Norman' wTh a m amng glance at Connie, inquired for the commi sar^^ Bless me ! " the laird cried apologetically, ■• I had quite forgotten. Miss Ogilvie, you mus^ oveLk the 'p I TRIUMPH Am DISAPPOINTMENT ,„ occupations of gathering day When .» k .. ourselves we are too aotTr^ ,w7^ ^"^ breakfasted breakfasted as wel m ""^ ""^ *'>°'« *«'d has cart yondS. wla Js in .tT'"' ''°"'" '"'^ ^ "^^^ '" '"e JanefcackledoTer t,kelir"°''^"- ' ""'^ ^now that it was to be care^u,; iled" "'" """^ •^•"'^''-- She said personal import. Tnerl h.H'. ^ '""^ °' " ''^^P'^ the honour^f drink W fi. ' '7'^'^""^ ''^^" ^ '^°«test for lan;sc .1 e .. -^^^^^^^^ and Bonald. " You'll know by the ta^t^ " „, » • neighbouring farmf I^ ^g S '"V"' '"'" ' hummed: ^ *'" °^ his voice, he •■rv?re SX'„%S-" -P-«k °f the dogs, and iTivelT , '"° "^^ "' ^"■^'«'' ^^ si'ler, fu'st for onf:e \t™f''r',"''^'r°'"^°^'''« daughter. I was looWnllt? ''■^ ''P" °^ ^^' Other's I said to myse^ vas this fh "'"""f '°°" '•^' ^"^ "^at the sky's al^ve oLr S. ' ^ m f t' '"'' ^^ ^"^^ ^ God had only seen fit to hi! ^ ""^"^ '^""'•' ^^ silver spoon fn Ty moufh I^^h"".'"'" ''" "°''*' *''»> ^ sup." '^"""''^""hinking I'd know where to quotS^wr '' '°™ ^P°°" ^°' ^-' ^-H my ,ad,.. thatSCrnTwlf^^'ir''^' "''^^^'^ '° '''^ '-- the captain's sho^° '''" "^^^''- ^ '^'^h ' -"s in " "■''' ''' ''"■"'^ "'^ ^'°P yer clash." said Ian curtly. «" A SON OF GAD " Oh, ho," cried Donald, who was four-andtwenty, and merry, and a connoisseur in feminine beauty, despite a meagre education. "What's the matter with my lord now ? " " I want to i.»ar the click of the shears," retorted Ian. "Some folk that si.nuld know better forget this is clipping day and not clyping iay at all. If it is whisky ye want, take it and pass the g.ass. D'ye think you're the only man that's dry ? " When Norman returned with the basket he was smiling vividly, but declined to reveal the cause of his interest. J CHAPTER XVII AMONG THE SHEEPFOLDS a bottle of cre.rnV1:^^X''f?^f^-.colds.^rnon, uplands alone produce Ikh ^^ .'''°" ^ '""""'ery paniments. For the laW hln .'"'^ '^"'"'5' «'^<=°'"- and Janet's mettle „lt th. h ^'"V ""'' '"^"'-. M^c., ,n. I„ conse~ m "°"' °^ *^ ''"""^ of to wring the neck o? tie ^"^^"^ '"'^^'^^ instructions and No!rna„'s rS ootrtn '"'^'?""^' ^' ^raigenard. salmon. The /2',S2 !' '^ ^"°"''' f"™shed the soul. Moreover he SrT •!"'' '^''''s'"' '° ^ '^ook'^ something moving SLi^S^yrirJldT'^"^ '' wouldn't wonder but lan's ri<7h; f „ ''°'°'"- ^ she went about the business '" The °h!'p'', '"""S"'' '' make out the ways of a matandl^aM '' Stf '''""'' Janet entertained herself with \nST ^ ^ * '^°'"*"' providence of God and the s2l of fn " "'*'• ^^ '''^ it was hard to say Xt mlht I "' '" ""'"'"^ fences. '»e king nught hL! h L o.l'S', !: f";, ^^"^ ''-w, treasure to boot. ^*'"' *'"' ""expected 'H:r;;:!::b:^^X-^^>;Htha™^ slice of VeagleSon ST.T,"''':."""' ^'"^ P"''e. "and a things. M^ " he c,^'^''; ff' ^"^ "eam and scones and /'Eve^tl^t atrr:^' M^rSri!?^ I was up by the fank eating it'' '*""« ^ ^^ "3 114 A SON OF (iAl) "You needn't be Roing so far for something to eat, Maggie," was the response. "There's plenty more porridge in the pot." " Send the porridge to the fank," retorted Maggie ; but Janet's lyric feeling ran too high to be disturbed by a mere impertinence. When the time came, Norman spread a snowy cloth on the green turf, made a seat for Connie on a tuft of dry heather, and the feasters began without undue preliminary. Connie declared it was the best breakfast she had ever eaten, and probably she was right. For five hours' morning exercise n\akes a delicious sauce, to say nothing of super- excellence of cooking. They had finished, and were moving off joyously among the shearers, when thi-re appeared on the bridle-path below a figure on horseback. It was Mrs. Ogilvie, with Alick for guide and guardian. The captain hastened to meet them ; the laird remained beside Connie. " You were quite right, Grannie dear," were almost her first words. " It's been glorious, and we have yet to see the clipping, haven't we, Mr. MacLean ? Why isn't papa with you ? He'd enjoy it." " A very heavy mail has detained him," answered Mrs. Ogilvie. " By the way, I've news for you, Connie. Jeff and Kitty Dunbar are in London and will be with us next week." " Oh ! " said Connie, and Captain MacLean was puzzled to make out whether the ejar 'ation meant gladness or regret. " Come and see the clippers," she added without com ment, and turning quickly went off with the laird, the captain following with Mrs. Ogilvie. With a child's wondering delight, she watched the fleeces rolling down as by magic under the dexterous hands of the shearers. " They come off in one roll without rag or tatter," she cried in admiration. " It is the ambition of every good shearer to bring his fleece off whole," the laird explained. ] AM«N(; THK SHKKm,U,S c'-ckins blade, out oMhcn"?" ' " "'"''''' "^'P' 'he .aiZ;n:r ^ti-^^l •^-W- - .h. ... Hand,- .he -^I'ieni, co^l;!' J:^:^':;^- J- '-:^ -d p,^;S "Ian, that's „„t like you "t' , ''''■'"'"« '^'^ "°»"d- surpnse than repro<,f '-"''^ remarked, more in ""Sto^itrinr^tJt?' ^'■'^•' ^"'='' '" his to stay at home and nnnd Zlr n I "^"P'" «'''*^''' «"""gh P'-ople n,ight bo able to clii ^i^h ? i'""'"''''''' '^'-'"="" "'h-^ Instead, he ealled ou, X "l^A hctT^' "°"'- Alick came at t »r„f f ■ ^' '"^^' 'he tar !" '^r;Pot. and rub^ ir'ortt woUd " l' ' ^''^^ '"'^ '^^^ '" h.s own surgical dexterity Co„„l" M '^'•^^'^' P""*-- body quivering. ^ *-"""'" «:o"ld see the prone scathing retort that s^tg o 1^^"" '.^P' '"'='' 'he 'emptuously, he turned the shl!.r ''P^: Grunting con- Pomts viciously out of sigh r ?'' ''^^^ 'h^ shear- -;e blood, but in anX Jnutr;H''^''i'" ""^"^ ^- «"ci graceful fron, ,he midst oT he /f t''^ ""'' '='«''" ''as branded on the side bv th , '"'^^ '^'"'" •^'o'hes, away lithe as a Derby racer' t: ' """'• """ '^""d'^d '~"ers up, on the shearing .» , ^"^ ''"°"'^^ ''"^ fling it was on its body and the ^Z^^ ' ''"' ''" ■■™" '--'ft leg •hroat. The ta^d fleeS'S ro.Td™ ^^'^ ^' "' 'he pmk skin. Ia„ called ZTj '°"'=^.^n°*-*hite from 7^, a young mother, Eped off . '"''l"«"'''°"' ^"^ 'he J'sconsolate lamb. Con'^exS "^j"^ ""f^"'^' ^^ her I-'n gave no heed, and the partv^T '" ^.'^'"'^a'ion, but % chance they halted belide DonLr^^"'"" """'^ °"- esme Donald, who sang softly to Ii6 A SON OF GAD himself in rhythm with the shears. Fiding their gaze, he looked up, blushing like a girl in her first season. "Isn't it very hard work?" Connie asked, with an enchanting inclination towards him. "Oh, no, mem!" Uonald answered. "Ye see, when a sheep finds it's no use kicking, it just lies still. But they're awful thrawn whiles though." " A little like the la.g and cIos.ng .,„e about, ye see the same brain can c^;' on a w— fz; tL't- :r- --- ^ ---. '•ButOgavie's oreeginally Scotch." objected a sceptic. Ay, born in Scotland, but bred in America ! » triumoh- Its all m what you're used to. Catch a monkey young, and ye can almost make a man of it." "Ay. indeed." assented the sceptic significantly. "I mmd seemg a monkey in a show at Aberfourie. and it was just as w,se and clever-looking as some men I know ^ :hi: to r "■ ' ''°'''' ' ^- -"^ - P--^ -<^ «pll^ Meanwhile, the subject of all this talk dictated to his S^i T" "^"T r'""^ '"'"'°"^' -'^ -°''''"g °" his mind. At Connies entrance m search of letters, he looked un -nhng, for though he carried on the bu;i„ess o"a whole vttoJ IdTV^I- ''? "^'^ ^'^^^^ ^ P'--' f-t visitors, and h,s daughter's interruptions were never in opportune Not once nor twice had Lurly-headerpattler ^^"^^ " "^''°-' ''"^" -'^ -^^edU': "Splendidly," was the answer. "Papa, you can havp '■Am I not my mother's son?" he asked, laughing. "fnlPor;!:. '"''i'°": ''' '''^'"^'^•" Connie rejoined, 1 of affection and colour; but for the real thing you must go out yourself." *" ' "You must know most real things if you are to appreciate them, he responded. "I suppose N.w York grows dim 120 A SON OF GAD in contrast with the Highlands. By the way, you very soon put your horse out of action— a brilliant start in mountaineering." " Then you saw the boy ? " "Yes; and he gave me a really vivid description of the performance." "I think," she said solemnly, "it was the old man's fault. Papa, I believe he hates us. I fancy I can see hatred in his face." " Pooh ! you're too imaginative. Con. Captain MacLean was very kind." "Very," she returned, with an unconscious emphasis. So was the laird himself. The captain saw us home, and, of course, we mvited him to stay for luncheon." "I'm glad of that. I want a rational chat after my mormng's work. I've been at it full tilt ever since Grannie went out." "She says you have letters for me, papa." "Yes. almost a sackful. The good philanthropists who live on other people are finding you out, I should think " He handed her a bundle. "By the way, I suppose you know Jeff Dunbar and his sister are to be with us shortly ? " He looked at her meaningly. "Grannie told me," she replied simply. "Any others coming ? " "Yes, some others; but we'll speak of them later on Meanwhile, present my compliments, and ask Captain MacLean to excuse me for a little. I'm in the midst of a problem." The problem solved, he greeted Captain MacLean warmly, thanking him for his courtesies and good offices towards the ladies. "I don't think I've ever seen them better pleased with an outing," he remarked, glancing at his daughter. "The heather is so romantic compared with dusty railways " A MILLIONAIRE AT WORK „, roll.^^'f"" ^^^'^"'" '''"™"'* Norman affably, "gives roninglLfares deXh vT 2 " .If f '^"= T"^ hv Kr<.,j I .1 "=""%"• yet, sir, man does not live by bread alone," and he swung off into talk of clippinl! s hrd co^:^ ' -r^ *"^ "°' ^ '"-«''' °f «" ™ CilAPTER XIX NATIONAL CHARACTERISTICS A MONO the expected guests was Brash, the prodigious J~\. Hiram Brash, whom Mr. Ogilvie had picked out of a railway train some-.vhere between New York and Phila- delphia, instructed in the mysteries of railroad manipulation, and elevated as a model of smartness to his own right hand • also the Hon. Job Shilbeck, a political wire-puller and boss' of autocratic influence. None who knew them ever doubted that, as the Western phrase goes, both men had their heads right screwed on. The children of poverty, they made themselves great men. Did an ambitious capitalist desire to use the legislature in a little scheme for which he was prepared to pay, Job Shilbeck was his man. Did an aspiring patriot pine to serve his country in a post of emolu- tion and honour that would bear a fair percentage of com- mission. Job Shilbeck was his man also. No one-not th- riost experienced, not the most astute-quite understood .lis methods ; but one fact was indubitable : there he was and such as needed his aid must take him at his own price' The figure being stiff, he prospered mightily. Brash wai younger, but hardly more modest, and certainly not less well equipped by nature for the arduous battle of life. When these two arrived at Dunveagle, together as hap- pened by the caprice of fortune, the air became crisper, the horizon expanded as to the strains of "Hail, Columbia," or It might have been to the animating flash of diamonds. With your dominant American diamonds and tobacco are NATIONAL CHARACTERISTICS ,,3 lace-but always there are diamonds in evidence of the and ?£' R r «:'°""''^' ^ «'='"'='= ^'^ J°b Shilbeck ni?.T ''^ '"'"'^"'^ ^°^ ^ "ght conclusion. Their .""ris^irr '" ^^ '^ "^^ •^^^^^ °^ ^-^- ~<^ cas?L'a^Hl'' f'' '' """""""^'^ ^'^^l^ ^'^ magnificent. cast.ng a critical eye over the landscape, owned the place was good enough for a summer vacation, but confused hunself unable to understand (an unwonted bit of moderyt wilfully pitch on a hermitage among the moors. Even the scenery was not at all up to Mr. Brash's standard from thlh ^ r"'f '''"'^y-" ^' ''^"'"■'^d, taking a cigar X L'rTi" "' ''' ^^'="=°^' (^ 'ingering'habit'of earner days), ,f J was gone on woods and mountains Tr ±h ;'' ''"*'■ ' ^■"''' ''" «° -' --' to CoCdo sce'el^."' '""' '" ''^ ''°""'"'=- N- there you ^ get wouHnV-T "'°"''^"'''" '^'"^'"'^ S''"''-'^''- "No, vou wouldnt, he repeated, expectorating meditatively "I wouldnt be any grease-boxes about to keep yer hands swe^ and where there ain't any grease-boxes' there a^' any scenery for Hiram Brash. When you took me for that last run up the Hudson, what did you do? You shu down e,, ,.„,„,, „, ^,^ smoke-room, talked patent c^! togs at a pressure of forty-five to the squae inch, and mmded as much about the Pallisad^ . as il' they wer; the pyramids of Egypt with old king what-his-name'on "p of em And when we went out shootin' in the Rockies the much tr°'l? 7'' "'''■ ^'* '"'' Englishman that had so much trouble fixing the bit o' glas. m his eye. didn't we "4 A SON OF GAD lose an Ai bear because you had to do some figuring on yer shirt cuff? Yes, sir, that's 'bout the size of your enjoy- ment of scenery," Job Shilbeck chuclcled and Mr. Ogilvie laughed. "Dessay that's 'bout right," Brash owned, not ill-plcased to receive such a testimonial for zeal before his patron. "You dor.-t catch me goin' back on the grease-box. No, siree. The grease-box keeps the wheels of the Republic hummin'. What does the world want to-day more'n anything else!" Why, locomotion. You run faster an' smoother than anybody else, and yer fortin's made. That's how I figure it out. There's money in the grease-box, and dont you forget it, though for that matter there's money mostly everywhere if a man only knows how to pick it up Shouldn't be s'prised if there's money even here. Any minerals m these hills, sir?" he asked, lifting his eyes. "Rock and bog oak," answered Mr. Ogilvie, smi'ing "Well," said Mr. Brash, "guess if there was mineral people here wouldn't know what to do with it. Or, if they mmed it, could not get it carried away. 'Pears to me Noah must have built the British railroads and that his family's running 'em yet. I've been all over their lines, and I tell you what it is, we wouldn't put their expresses on our side tracks. As for the railroad managers, they ain't got no Idea beyond muddlin' up schedules and stickin' to 'em like grim death. Some day a live American will come over here, build a road, and knock spots out of 'em." "You're the man, Brash," said Mr. Ogilvie quietly "With your lead, sir," returned Brash. "For the pre- sent there's more fun at home. Ten thousand miles of road under one eye, and every mile of it as slick as greased lightnin, that's what suits my constitootion. " "Sir John Rolston may be here before you go," said Mt Ogilvie, "and you'll have an opportunity of discussimr these things with him." •»s NATIONAL CHARACTERISTICS ;; And who is Sir John Rolston f " Brash inquired. announceT" '"^ ''""' '''*'°"=" '^^""•'^>-' ^'^- Ogi'v- "Oh, I know," responded Brash. "One of the fossils that turn up once a week, get a junior clerk to instruc S s^n the. names to what they don't understand, and loTe fo another seven days. 'Pears to me it's ai;ays Sunday w. h folks on this s,de, though I don't know that they've got any more rehg^on than we have. Hullo! the ladies' the Hon'rob Sh^K .°'"° '"''^' ""''■ °^''^'« -"d Connie; the Hon. Job Shilbeck turned more leisurely Enjoying the scenery?" cried Connie, equally to both. an nn I T"' ^''' ^''' °S"^'^'" «ra.h answered, «^ h an^uneasy deference of manner for which she easily fold piquIntW " m^T 'I """" ^"^ "" "-'^hmaker had said piquantly. Why don't you marry, Mr. Brash ? " Dunno,; replied Brash ; "ain't got time, I s'pose." Oh, rejoined the lady archly, "where there's a will theres always a way, as the history of mank nd pro^e Very busy men have found time to get married." ^ That s so," Brash owned reflectively "Besides," cooed the lady, who would presentlv hav^ marnageable daughters of her own. "the Bib Hay's it not good for man to be alone " referL^to the' L""' ^'"t "'"^ ^"™^''°"' ^"^^ °" being eterred to the passage, "Sure enough, there it is. WeD Im danged li I had any idea the Bible gave tips of thJ; FulyT^I..'""^^^''"« ''°"' ''^' '^ buLess,':init'it; io:::'^i:hSsre^.!f''— ^- "'-— ' Pears so, don't it? I ain't much on Sundav-schooU and that kind of truck, but I guess Providence Is all S . Ill ii; I ■ ) "* A SON OF GAD "Well, you think it over," beamed the counsellor, "and you 11 feel so lonely you'll just go right off and look for someone to keep you company." Brash promised and kept his word. "Why, dang me " he said to himself, turning over the Biblical injunction, stop weddm's, and where are you to get your population ? Let your population run down, and what becomes of bizf Rum b.z, and the world's up a tree like a sick coot. Besides, a team of two's always better'n a team of one. As a good citizen he had a duty to perform, and as a man of busmess his thoughts, like the industrious ap- prentice s, turned to his master's daughter. "Good lookin'," he said, running over the qualities in which he meant to speculate. " That ain't a fault. Clever -that ain't any fault either. Got tone," Mr. Brash mused. A man who can afford it Ukes tone; that certainly ain't a fault. Besides, when the old man kicks off " Mr Brash first pursed his lips and then drew them in with a smack of exceeding relish. "That's all right," he said to himself, with emphasis. "Yes, I guess that's about as right as a Wall Street corner lot." Thereupon he began to consider ways and means. Carte-b anche was given to his hatter and his tailor, and his bootmaker and his shirt and collar makers, and all the other makers that fit a man out for tender and romantic business enterprises. "They go mostly by appearances, deane me, they do, and quite right too, quite right, bless their hearts-hey doodle-oodle." Mr. Brash's jubilant spints are to be inferred from that note of exaltation He made his proposal, like an ideal railway manager, dwelling with fervour on the mutual advantages that would ensue. But God in His wisdom has withheld the business mind from young ladies, and Mr. Brash was politely but firmly interrupted. ' ■VATIOXAI. CHAIUCTKRISIKS nient. "' P''^''^'"='= '" -^ stupor of amaze- you've gone and made afnn, r. '"'''''■ P'"^" '° ""^ horse-poler idiol of /ours ^yS"^^^ ""^ "'""'^"'^ gone and done " ''' '"' ""^^ '^ '^hat yeVe mention one or two of h, ' !, T'^ condescended to illustrious merits ''l2 °"" '^^^^'^'^ as a setting for knowing that amhor to h ' 7 °" ^'"'"°"'" ''^ ^^id, ;:-o^theSj^^;S:;;;-2H^so,iM. - aboard the :ngine /u meTT ''' k'"^' ^•'^' P"' ■natter. I reckon fh./. .,? ^^ ''^''°°'^' '' don't minutes ahe^dorsctlSTiL't '" '^f''""'°" -- of m.d strawberries when 'm Xut '' ""' '"' ^^"^^""' UnquLSSr^Bih"""^ '"^' "" ^"-'""^'yJust. railroad men ^ "'"' °"" °' ^"'^ri^a's lightning w JT « hustit''-;::? h-r °' ""'"^^ °^'^- ''^- ^-'> , even his enemies, and he was not ia8 A SON OF GAD beloved of the entire race, admitted so much. Job Shilbeck, like deep water, ran very still. Except in moments of relaxation, he was not a talker ; he hardly seemed to be a doer. Yet on any morning when he was attending to business the United States press from Maine to California had a smart attack of fever; and the United States press does not waste rhetoric and big headlines on anybody who is not distinctly somebody, save at advertisement rates. Ian Veg Mackern (who might have been a journalist had Fate been unkfnd), taking stock in country fashion, summed him up graphically by the proverb that, like the white horse at the mill door, he thought a good ('n'a' more than he said. A ciga' was constantly between his teeth, as if to keep the tongue behind them from incontinence; certainly he kept his own counsel, till the sphinx lips parted to give in- structions in a new move. Then caucus and clique throbbed, and the temperature of the press rose suddenly. Now as a finely devised civiUsation proves, the political manager is the most useful instrument ever created by an obliging Providence for the benefit ot the kings and princes of finance. Ogilvie did not meddle directly in politics, partly from lack of taste for the game, partly because he preferred to have his chestnuts plucked out of the fire by others. Wherefore Job was on the list of the millionaire's friends, and had crossed the Atlantic to have a look at effete monarchies which yielded professional politicians no boodle, and shoot grouse on the Dunveagle moors. He cared nothing, or less than nothing, for grouse, or dogs, or gamekeepers, or ghillies, for pedigrees or old castles, or indeed for any of those things which move the envy of the flunkey and the admiration of the picturesque tourist. He could sit among the August heather — he actually achieved the feat— without a thought of its bloom and perfume, turn a deaf ear to the singing of the wind in the woods, and the lowing of kine in the pastures. Nay, NATIONAL CIMRACTERISTICS more, he could turn a poulterer's evr- nn ,h But he desired very arSv T f ^' '""""^ '"«''^- Mr. Ogilvie-s plans reJardlgtcerSnt """''"''" °' exciting whispers werf alr^'dy nThe rrd't' t ""'^•' was ready to endure stagnation' and e„n"' ' '° "'^' ^"'^ own.'LXvSirfnherV^"^^^^'"^"'^ °^ '"^'^ for a climb. The question t^ ^""'" ''''" "»^'"^" they could not dechne 1 ^"l 'V"" ' '^'^^"'^"g'^. and at home boarder; 'reef tar t '"""^' "'""■"^• yards and took an elevator for ^ ^°"'"''' "^ "f'^ they were in the hS?i . ''"P' °^ ''''"■ B"t vaiK and-yes. th^^l^^ t ^S """^ - ;:^'s^t^;sx^?°^^'^"'^■^"^-^^^^ whisperer leaves or S^V.'^''/"'^ "° ^°""d but the glade's that g e med «S Sd fl *^'"'^'' ''"'' ^ --- through clumps of ha'el ^here r"." '"'""^ ''°°'^^' Bmote their faces aT w t h ! V " °^ ''°""8 ""'=' raspberry thicket aTreadll '"""'''' °^ """""". and his you7g feettd So ^r hlf /""^P^">^ *" and railway management. Great God fT'^ °' "°=''' run under bridges since then ly and th T''"" "'"^ with him marvelled why "one of th ^^ "'^° ""^^'^ New York" grew so dLrT J u ""^"^" •"«" *" should they knL thiTT "''f"'-'"'"'*^'*- H°* wondrous twin^sTtls h L tir'^v'"' ''"'^"^''°"' '^e were showing hir^ Is •„ f '''" '"", '° '"^'""^'^^^ and and were reLSn; i!f . "'T' '°"K-^anished faces, that had loTS'til ? Ho t",T '°"" °^ -■- -.fsofhLts^^d^ri:::::-- I30 A SON OF GAD i 1 4 they understand. So he s|)oke of none of these things • but at the edge of the wood he stood peering into the thick darkness of an old fir. " What's up now ? " Job inquired. " Reckon there ain't any coons in a patch like this." "I'm only looking," announced Mr. Ogilvie quietly "If the blackbird's nest is still there. No, it's gone, like so much else. Once, long ago, I saw two boys climbing the tree for eggs, and I still remember their terror on being caught by the laird." "Guess he's dead now, sir," said Brash, as one might say, "Time does for all enemies." " Not a bit of him," was the reply. " People live longer among these glens than about Wall Street." "You see that house?" pointing upward— "the largest that's visible? That's Craigenard. You'll not remember the name an hour, though to me it's too musical to be forgotten. In the days of which I speak I was at Craigenard, and he was at Dunveagle." "And Where's he now?" Job askej. " Up there," Mr. Ogilvie answered. '• Jupiter ! " cried Brash. " That's like a dime novel." "No, Brash, not like a dime novel," Mr. Ogilvie returned; "only like life, which is ten thousand times stranger than the strangest dime novel." Mr. Shilbeck stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "Reckon that's about right," he said slowly. "Yes, I reckon it is. Life's a mighty cur-us thing, come to think of it. Mighty cur'us." His friends had never before found Mr. Shilbeck so penlously near a fit of moralising. "Pretty rough on the old man, sir," said Brash: "cut up bad, I expect." "His race don't carry their hearts on their sleeves," responded Mr. Ogilvie, "but one may imagine his feelings.' NATIONAL CHARACT^R,ST,CS „. the rock above?" "^ '° "'ck. Hullo, what's that on .eaX^:'"^ '^' "° "^"^-"^ ■•" -o«„i.n^ .he long "Scr;aL"-::r^.^^«'^-'''---ed. ci'i "-^Hharrij^.^is^- r'"« '° ^-^ "e gentleman and hospita We and rh", "'"''"' ■""" *« « *« lean. A little later 'th",iJ". ^'"^P' '"e larder 'He., having arrj^d^lrhr^^^^^- --^"« liT CHAPTER XX YOUNG AMERICA AT LARGE JEFF and Kirty Dunbar, even more trenchantly than Shilbeck and Brash, represented a triumphant latter-day Democracy. The framers of the American Constitu- tion, sagacious as they were, did not foresee that one day the British Colonies, which about the year 1775 "cut the painter" and began housekeeping on their own account, would, ere the architects and designers of fate were com- fortably in their graves, achieve the distinction of setting the world an example not only in riches and enterprise, but also in social ambition. Absurd old Europe had its blue blood— alas ! running thin in these days, in spite of constant infusions of golden ichor from the West— its titles, orders, ribbons, and baubles in general to distinguish the elect from the mob. To the sturdy forefathers of the Republic these vanities were so many devices of Satan to keep the minions and victims of kings in fit amusement against the day of reckoning. Therefore, such gewgaws as stars and coronets were banished. But time, as the Republican poet says, " makes ancient good uncouth ; they must still be up and onward who would keep abreast of"— fashion. What to the simple forefathers appeared a master-stroke of wisdom was turned in the cynicism of time and prosperity to folly. However, the mischief was done. You cannot rip up a national constitution as if it were an old dress to be cut and reshaped to newer modes. The inhibition stood un- alterable as a dead man's will. Was America hence 132 YOUNG AMERICA AT LARGE „, doomed to Quakerism? Nothing of the sort If n.. anstocracy of blue hln^H o„^ • • " "°' ^" a better tMn^ T • ^ vamglonous titles, w\,y not LS n fg:„ru;\rdThr^^^^ °' ^""^' ^-'^ "^" America made' uT^ hers df a Xn""' "'°" °' ^°"'''' thou the national ideal bv thl w '"T' '^'^"S" "«« fi„f XT , "y '"^^ let us be iudeed" <5« hat Napoleon's question, "What has he done?" became m the new order. "How much is he worth?" The ^^Z of m,lhona,res was instituted, with degrees of 172 definite terms. <='"=fence not to be expressed in cent u.d Wepento, j^.,"'^ '° '"5 " fe=. •"»> ■ blind bm„ JlSl r„ t ?^- *• "" ™l!" -* hi. ,i^„"S°.X'r*c™ ?■■'/"'■«'" Without evidenre nf . a ^'" admittance years' standf^ e1 7^''';^ ""'? °' ^' '-'' '- the Republican ret^ '^'' °^ ''^''^ """emen. faith. ^ '^™' ''*=°«"'^^'^ but one passport, on^ Those who had worshipped longest and most devoutly '34 A SON OF GAD I '19 " li nil became by natural process leaders and priestesses, and the name of Dunbar stood high on the blazing scroll of honour. Jeff and Kitty entered the charmed circle at birth. For it was their great luck to have had a grand- father who wisely laid the family foundations wide and strong. Where the father sowed, the son reaped gloriously. A fortuitous fate brought Giles Dunbar and Duncan Ogilvie together, and the rest followed as naturally as rivers flow to the sea. Exquisitely alive, to the rights and responsibilities of his position, Jeff Dunbar lived sumptuously and spent royally. He knew and loved Paris, where, in his frequent visits,' there clustered round him such sprigs of European nobility as chanced to have fresh devices in pleasure, and the heirs of industrial potentates to whom the odour of machinery and warehouse did not cling too offensively. His expendi- ture was on the newest scale of Republican simplicity. Once, after an English blood was presented to him, the introducer remarked as a possible commendation, "He has an allowance of five thousand a year." " Of five thousand a year ! " repeated Jeff " Good Lord ! how does he contrive to exist ? " His own allowance was such as enabled him to give the costliest wine parties that ever dazzled the gayest city on earth, take a proprietorial interest in the racecourse and the ring, and, in general, support the character of Wall Street and the fair fame of the Republic. Of his mission to Dunveagle, one of the chief priestesses in New York wrote to a disciple in London— "I learn that Jeff and Kitty Dunbar are going to visit the Ogilvies at their country seat in the Highlands of Scotland. That means business, of course. We are all on the tiptoe of expectation. Everybody admits it will be the event of the season. Of course, we'll insist on having the wedding here in New York. Speculation is rife as to YOUNG AMERICA AT LARGE decoction, etc. I p. .He flowers a,o„e at a .i„i.u. 'j Thus the inner cJrrlp i^tp^ similar. He liked Sie.-^te7« onL'^'l"^^'^ well as the right sort anH h» . ? *^ "^^^ set as were it only to keeolef T'f " ^'"°* ""^^ "^^y. Giles Dunbar meSed ,h ' '"'' '"''"' 0"^« mJ.' way of businesT andMr n r"'' '° ""^ ^S''^'^ '" '"e alliance, if the ' "1 n. ?'' ' '"" "° "^J^-^'""" '° « thought thaTer?.f.r^ ''''' '"'''^'*"'- P^vately he too domestic Jit t ''"' ""''''" '^^"^'^^ ^d "ot virtually trhis'lgLr ZT.'" '"" '''^ ■"«'- were still somewhat uncertain """"''' " '^^'"'' Mr. shiibLktafSiS i:y'' r^"^^ °^ j^*^- Cunbar. a man of first 11 ^ ' "'^ '°" °^ ^iles be tolerated -that he n. ""P°''^'=^' ^d therefore to Mr. Shilbeis bus?nes3%7ZH''^ ^1°°' ^^ """-^ «me philosophic althv^^;. '""''' "°' "''^ '° ">« '; -I I ! 11 ■■i' f ) ' CHAPTER XXI YOUNG AMERICA, CONTINUED AS a man of resource in pleasure with a name to JT^ mamtam and a fste to gratify, Mr. Dunbar pro- ceeded to take possrs. on of Dunveagle like a second Cassar, whose vem, vidi, via was as inevitable as the light that comes of sunrise. He inspected the stables, tried the fast horses one by one in a buggy, looked into howling kennels, exammed curios and bric-k-brac, not like a con- noisseur, but like a millionaire; passed judgment on the castle and grounds, and more comprehensively on the scenery visible from the castle front. "Well, sir," he remarked, "and these are the Scottish hills one reads so much about. They appear to P,e to nave stopped growing too soon." Being a good American, he declined to climb to hill tops merely for the sake of wide views; but he guessed a con- siderable "towenst" traffic might be done if light milways were run up famous bens. Notwithstanding the grime which the fastidious eye dis- cerned on them, he would have fraternised with Job Shilbeck and Hiram Brash, had they shown any disposition to be sociable; but Hiram was curt, if not positively hostile, and Jobsniiled ambiguously. Job, in fact, was amused. Say, he remarked one day to Brash, as the two watched Jeff going off with the ladies. "Pretty good tailors ad., ain't he? Jimminy! what 'ud the worid be without Its fools?" «36 YOUNG AMERICA "And if the old man was t„ h,„^ • v '" morrow," returned Hi^m "th. . , . '" ^" "^^^^ '°- more millions than f ^'thi'. f""^ '^- *°"W have ."For how long?..^''- ,°^r;tr'h'"r^''^^-" mncompoops hadn't miir ""^ ^ow long? if in? In^-myp' :'T: '° '^ "''^^^'<^ ^ -">« for the lot of complete ..rr °''" " '^"^'^ °^ 'Panics round loose. The^ tl "^T"^ ^°°^' ">at's goin' "So," admitted hL^^ ^r^'" '"'^'''"' '^^ ^^ve." absenti;; "as" sa" ^'^1^?' ''' ''"' °^ '''^ «=■«- No soft snaps. Can' 1,, ^ . '^^ '""''''^ '^"hout 'em. the direction „ wWch jX '"•" ^"''"S ^ ^•'-'"^ « ^fe little deals, eh?" ^°"'' '"'° °"« °f V^r nice, Job closed one eye knowingly. a cool^Jnl'Sd'^r^"''^''- "«-dheputup Paris. In the wTd3 o mv"" °" "'^"''^ '"°'^-°"' « '-her, there's hope of eff' vlTZ^ '""^^^-''-' veo. promisin'. Shucks liin't he'gi Too""' ''"™^'"'' were glued to 'em. S's rilt '° *'"«'' ^ '' ""^^ don't understand. Say the oM '" f "'" "" °' ^^at he Ogilvie. Jericho, if there wI^toT' 'YT ^''^ *'"> "That ain't likelv" ?! ^ I ^ ^ 'P'" *ere." pretty ^bic,no:tt:ZZt!' ^'''"'''''''' '^ ""^^^'- girl, they sav Th=,f'll J^*^' S"'"' '° marry the -nt on! h^dinjt 'c"rr"'°\''T ^^"'"'J"^ feeling a fifty-euiL H- ^. °"^ hand and modestly the oLr. .tCTsalTtl'^V"" ''^ ^'"^' ^-' ^^ Connie Ogilvie's a dloH ''''^' '°° ^ood for him. hl'e her; a'l.d It nt'lfS '"' "" °^ ^ «'''• ' --lround'.utt.£:L----"5 "38 A SON OF GAD screwed on, he'd do biz before leavin'. Yes, sir. Brash," he asked suddenly, " why don't you marry ? " " Dunno," answered Brash, with a start. " Guess I ain't got time." "I guess I ain't a busy man," retorted Shilbeck, "and I guess Giles Dunbar and Duncan Ogilvie ain't busy men. No, 1 reckon we ain't busy, and I reckon busy men don't have no thought of keepin' the population agoin'. I'll tell you what it is. Brash, you'll be too old if you don't look out. 'Tain't good for a man " "Oh," Brash interrupted sharply, "ye needn't be makin' yerself tired slingin' scripture at my head. I know all about that— read the whole story how Adam goes to sleep (plenty of time on hand, I reckon), and the Lord, thinkin', maybe, he was lonely, takes a rib and makes Eve for com- pany. Well, d'ye s'pose Adam ever wished that rib had never been made into a woman, eh ? I guess that after he got company Adam was many a time mighty glad of a chance to take a walk all by himself in the back garden. If you ask me. Eve didn't turn out exactly an angel, by all accounts. Guess Adam was out coolin' himself when Old Nick slithered round. 'Tain't good for a man to be alone, eh ? Well, maybe not But my notion is that if it's bad in the fryin'-pan, it's pure hell in the fire." Mr. Shilbeck listened, his eyebrow arched in surprise. He did not expect so much scriptural knowledge from Brash, but, being an eminently practical man, he pursued his own train of thought. "Then there's Jeff's sister. She ain't a thing to sneeze at, and she'll divide the boodle with Jeff. Yes, sir, 'pears to me there's pretty good biz for the man that's young and spry and tolerable good-lookin', and has his head righ screwed oa" "Likely she's fixed up too," returned Brash. "She ain't married that I've heard of," rejoined Shil- YOUNG AMERICA 'bout « lovS tt?r Um ■r°?"''^'''"'r"«''' -"^ carpeted with^",r"^' "' ?'!!". '^^^ '^"^ ^^ -re of my health ou^We ?" ""^ '*'"" '"^ "' ^^ '"e good Mr. Brash remembered. " Well, I sat down under one of the thick^.f r.f ,k . over there smokin' anH wt,„ tmckest of the trees round the ~ ' ^ ,u ° ^T' """^ '"'^ "'gh, only able to get away I wa^^ L J. ^ ''"^' ^"'^' "°' ^«' was layif. off ^0^^' 'fnd Pa fstd t^"' ^I'V"^ =^::75:Stri^^'"^- ■e-batt^si^rnLritr:?:"'^'^^- Orowns, suggested Brash. foreign worl Wdl Ki i' sh"" """ f!"^™'^' ""^'^ and that earl :,„7.- IV ^ '*'^"' °" *«"' 'his dook Ani,uite^?a:;s.^^.j- tc;°forr^"«r demure Miss Puritan n,„b T ' ■ ""^ "odest, body becaus? :S^ ^e^^^/," ^^ -- -ile at any- cries out -Hush! hushM an^ th , ^"' ^^ilvie you'd hear them far enough iTZTl ""vf ^«''"' "^'^ Btash, was this -If T £m ' ' ^ "^'^ '° "y^^"'. tolerable good look" he mT hT" '°""^ ^"'^ 'P^^ ^"<1 them all." ' ' ""^'" ^o m and win against cat^f^iftTh'e ?' '"""""^'^ "'^ ^^"'■'"-''' °n so deli- o. a beast m a rage, and the next instant Jeff I sli '! '40 A SON OF GAD swung round the comer in his new model sixteen-horse- power automobile, which but a week or two before had been the pride of Paris. It had won an international race in scenes of unparalleled excitement an 1 glory. There and then Jeff became the owner at a highly fancy figure, and it had followed him to Dunveagle under charge of a French engineer, M. Guy Dumont, whom Jeff promptly re- chnstened Johnny. « Don't mind my calling you Johnny," Mr. Dunbar had sa.d; "it's short and homelike, beside, being easily remembered." And Johnny M. Dumont was thenceforth called. Already Jeff had scoured the country on this new wonder, to the terror of man and beast. »T o!-,".' °"' '° ^^^^' "'^ "^^ °"' °f some more bosses ? " Mr. ihilbeck now inquired pleasantly. Mr. Dunbar smiled. '•It am't the bosses that's skeered most," he answered. Folks hereabout don't know how to handle ribbons. I'd just hke them to see me behind Black Bess when she's doing her 2.3s exercise in Central Park. Say, Johnny and I have put on the goggles for a spin. Are you fellows game ? " Mr. Shilbeck reckoned he wasn't insured against acci- dents, and Mr. Brash found he had business to attend to for that day's mail. "Well, ta-ta," cried Jeff gaily , « I'm going to pace a bit." Half an hour later a motor, tooting as for dear life, tore into Aberfoune, scattered half the population of children and dogs along the main street, and drew up snorting at the Inver Arms," whither an indignant chief of police followed on purpose to arrest it. Johnny, with many gestures and some half-intelligible speech, referred the law to his master, who happened at the moment to be in friendly converse with the landlord. Going inside, the law stated its business, produced its notebook, and proceeded to ask questions. >4I VOUNG AMERICA Jeff smiled urbanely. "Guess," he - highway was a racing trS for .^7''"'"' ''^' ""^ '^-"'^ an unmoved counten^ce Ti ^ ^?"^ '"°'°"- ^i"" "There, if you give meTrecftr '°"" "''^ ^'"°""'- he said affably. ^ """^ ^ "^^^^'Pt. I guess it'll be all right," co^lSle' '^'' "'' ^°" '"°«^y'" 'e'"">ed the amazed "Look here," rejoined Jeff "!■„ f,i,- and refreshment in an inn leavin! ^"^ ^ ''"'^ '^^' charge of my man. Yo"' LTh ■ "^ '"°'°'" ""'^'''^ '" the law. As a lover of oeTc. r" '"'""^ '''' ^^"ken 1^- I hereby tender the T/w llLrf '° ■ ^"^""^ ">« feelmgs, and call the ho,t ,„ .'°'^""'" for "s wounded 'ake it or leave itl ^u ZT "\'^"- N""^' ^-. rests with you." '^ ^"^ P'*^«' ">e responsibility With that he lay back .™„i,- conscious of having done ht^! ''''"''^' ^^' '' "««> «id it did not wish fo go to e«reT J^' ""^ '"""^d, 'o warn gentlemen agf,„st the ,1^ ''"Z " -«^ "«^e«a.y expresses. It could SeVLr,r °^ "^''"^ ""^ ■°^' neither impose nor accept fines. ifrKi ';'s M» A SON OF GAD m "Ah!" said Jeff, with the same unruffled composure; "well, then, I guess the police force of this place falls in love and geU married, and dies and leaves widows and orphans same as in other places. Do me the favour of adding that to their provident fund as a token of my interest and good wishes," and he pushed the money across the table. "Oh, sir," cried the constable, his eyes dilating, "I didn't expect that." " If you had you wouldn't have got it," rejoined Jeff. "Twice within an hour I've taken you by surprise, and surprises are the savour of life. It's been a gratification to us both." " Guess I can race a bit now," he remarked, when the constable had elaborately entered the amount on an extra leaf of the oflScial notebook, rolled the money in paper, and gone away smiling. " Widows and orphans fetch men everywhere — a beautiful trait in human nature," added Jeff reflectively, "a beautiful trait." Jeff departed, tooting like a prince, and a mile out of Aberfourie overtook a gig with two men, who declined to make way. Instead there was turned on the occupants of the motor a scornful red face, the face of Ian Veg. CHAPTER XXII MOTOR VERSUS GIG usually the wicked st that he '/ '''"' '^"'''''' *•«» could procure. Spotted bJv th."""* ^"'^«'"""' °' ^«» the post of honoS was a moit Tf' °"*="P*"' °f and of one grand c;o:"„; "^f s 't%Tr ^'«^ between shafts nothing had eve^' TJ^"^ ^^ '^'^ race; nothing, he and the lairr ^"^ •"■" '" " f^" -uld. He was s^ngii aS^n^ '° '^•"''' -" when the motor came unl^v !^ '"" ^ '^"-"""^ I»ce, make way. Billy Sed hi^ ^T^ ■'"Puden.ly tooting to ^^tsririsnr'^^-'-^^"- Veg-tell'SSr- "^•" ^'^ ''"^ ""•^'^ ^""y "Ian ouf If Mt^rS.? S: ^' ^'"^ ^«- 'o «tep happened when he S'exteSol^'T' '° """^ f'°' « 'he head craned a littTe Tnd th. T.V'"""^ °^ '™- »«« together as it seemS Baiv rn ^ ^':' ^' '""^ °^ *em hour without a wefhaif tf Tr S"- *"' '^'^^ "''« an tothatpacehenowr^'built ^^ ""' '^^' "''' -^d^sitL^nr4rddie\;ri;r^ H3 M4 A SON OF GAD U ^ I i;!il^ Billy's zest was beautiful and inspiring to behold, but neither he nor his master understood motors, nor guessed that what was killing to horseflesh was no more than gentle exercise to the mechanical demon behind. Every moment the tooting grew louder and more insistent, with a fiendish undertone of throb and whir like the raging beat of iron pulses. It was a new sound to Billy, and a feeling of uncanniness began to creep over him. Reading defiance in the back of the flying gig, Jeff leaned forward, his eyes agleam behind their goggles. "Golly I "he cried, taking stock of the glancing hoofs. "The deacon's mare that won't be passed. Johnny, sure's you're alive, it's a race." He touched up the motor, and Johnny kept the horn going. In front the whip flicked lightly, and Billy sprang, straining on the bit, his nozzle out like a racer's. The laird sat forward with a set face, and in his excitement Ian gripped the side of the gig. Billy had never done better, yet behind the relentless motor forced the pace— toot, toot, toot, whir, throb, like a thing out of its senses with conceit. Billy broke into a gallop, but that the laird would not have. No, they would not pay the insolent thing behind the compliment of galloping. But next minute Billy again broke from the trot, and this time, instead of checking, the laird gave him a loose rein. "See at him, see at him, sir!" Ian called out in frantic glee. " As sure's death, Billy's the boy yet." " Ian," responded the laird from between set teeth, " tell me, is the thing holding its own ? " Ian twisted on his seat. "No," he cried, "it's losing; it's losing. Come on, ye snorting brute; come on." And without knowing it, he shook a clenched fist at the lagging motor. Now the motor had slackened for reasons which Ian did not comprehend, had, in fact, slowed down in a spirit J MOTOR VERSUS GIG of playfulness to nrnv,. u . '45 ^am, tooting hilariouj; Gc H„.^ ''"«^' " "">'-' "« ~^£\™j"^:itr4?-*- He edged up on the Mt ,„ °°'"^- and tooting. ?„„ S „ li ," wi?°"' '^^ °^ '>u„,„,i„g f'on, that moment pride vanLheT '!!"f''' °" '''^ ■"«"«! *heer hving fear. In haffa 'V?'^ "e fle,. from fear J spume was showering from ht "^ "" '' "^'^'"ed- the and the glossy back waT den'^h"^' 'i,' '''"''' '"'it;ned! fl'ght of terror/with deaTh in Sf "'' P^« ^as the "Ian." said the laird in " t^ ^ ^'"' "' "^ ''^«'»- away." '" « half-gasp. "I ,hink he's run He laid his weieht r.o .k -o^e than if a child we?" tovinr'"\ '."' ^'"^ "--^^d "» men d,,, ,^^^^^^ suddeSwitT ali'Th • '''"^" '"^ '- mouth could withstand that Lfi' i [ t" ""S^t. No "PJ but simultaneously tho!K^'''- ^"'y'^ ^ead went holding a broken reS^ 'S ll" ''""^'' "^"PP^'^ back each other blankly. Then ' .L? "^'^ '°°''«d at Cambered over the dashbTrd aln ' *°''^' I^" 'ose, shafts got astride oTrhe IS'rT' "^ ''^'^' °" '"e ■ntention, the laird sat ^dj^" i ' ^f'' , ^"-'"8 his h.s knees gripping hard, and the 2h u ^P"^ ^°™"d, Ian stretched fo? the bndle t nl ^7 ''"'' breathlessly wretched again, straining dJeSvt'h'T;"'^ "''"-''■ mg cnmson face, and safun h {' ^^" '''^"^d a despair M saw, and 'with Z'itSt^?"^"^ '° "'^ «• rasped the situation. I„ fi"'!' f ""^^ "^ ^is nation, "•otor and the horn silent ' "'^ P°'^^' ^^ "T the dCttlti^tn"™?^!: '"'^ '""'"He said, ^" be could do now wito for '''"^"^ '" "''' '""e l ^ '° '^='"°w quietly like an in,- 146 A SON OF GAD provised ambulance to be ready in case of need. He was perfectly cool, but Johnny was excited. "Zair, zair!"he cried, his eyes starting in their sockets. "Mon Dieu! zey will be turn over upside down ; zey will be, what you call it, kill, slain ! " "Hope not," returned Jeff; "but we must keep them in sight." Five miles Billy held the road, vehicles and pedestrians crushing aside to let him pass, and startled workers running from fields to gjet a glimpse of him. At the turn to Craigenard Ian, still riding postillion, leaned forward to guide him; but Billy was not to be guided. For one moment, as the wheel took the bank, the gig seemed to poise in the air ; the next Billy was gone, taking the shafts and leaving the body. When lan's wits returned, Jeff was dragging the laird from beneath the wreck. " He's hurt," said Mr. Dunbar quietly ; " get him into the motor." The laird hfted a pallid face. "No," he said peremptorily, "no." But his features twisted, and his lips closed on a gasp of pain. "Don't you worry, sir," responded Jeff pleasantly. " Johnny, you work the motor alongside here. Be careful now and be quick. Hurt about the shoulder, sir ? " "A little," answered the laird, keeping his teeth clenched. " But I'll manage for myself, thank you." " It will be easier with assistance," replied Jeff imper- turbably. "Americans aren't priests and Levites to pass by on the other side when a man's down. Now, sir, make yourself easy. We won't be a second." " 111 not put a foot in it," cried the laird fiercely, " you understand ? " " If you just put your left arm round my neck, so, it will be over before you can say Jack Robinson," was the response. "There, easy, men, easy. Sorry it hurts so much sir." MOTOR VERSUS GIG Penous will suppressed a groan l "°'^"S ''"' ''" '"m- ■n the detested motor, withTn Ve^ ^' """'" ''^ ^^ thert'LltLr^i'ratrnr "^°io" you over cruelty I can, ,hi„k T, ^ ^7i?"t' h' ' "°"'' '^"^ «" "a I guess I'm just going totL i?r ^'''P°"'''"' ^°' ">is, f-h, and Rollo' Snm/. ^d ' v^''"'^ '^'■"' Shilbeclc. Jeff explained what hTh^pSed" ''^ "'^'^ "^"'"-S -X. 'aird stti: i?;;^); [;^^-'- here, Mr. Ogilvie," the "I'm both glad and !r "" ^°' "'^ «fi™ao..'' -plied sympatLMc:;^ ■■IThe'LT' ==':;■" ^^- O^'vie Mn Dunbar says, to re'nder first afd'^" '°"" """^ "^. « He was carried in to th^ the ladies; and Mr. ^^."Je' 7"'"'^'^ consternation of thera^est horse in theSLrarr'"" '° '^^^•-'^»' I guess, sir," said Teff «th« / . . ' . "e had hardly gone when r^ • . >ng note to Crai/eLd M "'^ despatched the follow- "Dear Captain MacLean t . by a horse with broken sl;;;;^^ ''°" '"«"'"' >« alarmed MacLean is here and I h ' ''"'^ "> ^11 you Mr ^njunng up tragic pYctur«LYo,^^"°' T"^ Vou^lf OciLviE." ^ *^ "'•es.-irours sincerely, Constance ' : CHAPTER XXIII .1 : ii THE LAIRD A PRISONER CONNIE MAKES A DISCOVERY IN his day the laird had been in many a sore ph'ght, but in none that took him more acutely in a tender spot than this. To be resigned under the affliction of two ribs and a collar-bone broken was not perhaps a feat beyond his piety ; but it was quite another thing to be helpless on his back in the enemy's house. "How long am I expected to lie here?" he asked the doctor, not too amiably, and when the probable period was named, he spoke disparagingly of science, not omitting to curse his own stupidity in getting mangled. His friend, the Rev. Mr. Wirmock, minister of the parish, came with the solace of religion ; but the laird was as little to be comforted as Rachel. From habit he treated the Church with the respect due to an established institu- tion. NMtsse oblige; one must set an example even where one's faith is weak. Besides, he had said more than once, " as ministers go, Winnock's a good fellow ; a little inclined, perhaps, like the cloth in general, to associate Christian grace with solid worldly prosperity, but on the whole undoubtedly a good fellow, a true sportsman, a judge of horseflesh, and as genial a companion as ever drained a glass of toddy. These virtues the laird admired and appreciated. But he did not admire nor appreciate the balm and oil which Mr. Winnock brought for broken bones and a wounded pride. 148 THE LAIRD A PRISONER , Mr.'C„rr"'^ '-'''■ ''- "--^ - -V." responded without 4 "plZn?- °" "" ^""^ «°- °- -y whlir^"''"^'" ""^^'^"^ ^^- ^^■--''; "none, none orZXriXiTid- ""^T"^' "° -""- me a story «Tth as mu.hT ,'^'""' °^ "'^' ^°"- Tell When J gf hr r„r rt f it^ r ;- ■'■ '-•'^ s • iio, let It be something sane but nnn» ^r sermons; a Walter Scott if you can aS TJ ^ T preference. Did I ever tell vou ofT r •, "^ ^^ Rob?" ^ °'^ "'^ '^""'y interest in "Never," replied Mr. Winnock. settling down That's queer," said the laird. "Well fh! . .„ the time now. Once »!,»! f' ^^ """"^ " P^ss crossing the h lis here tW v"""'. °' '"" P"'?'^ *"«= cattle tL w^^'aTn^ b: :rZrV""^^'^ they had done, apologisef S a '..-.f^^ "^ °"' '"'^' hard to keen LrnVKr fe^ntleman, said it was pulpit, my friendinf f k'": """"^'^ '^"'^ '°' "»« bVv.t^ethrhTLrifterwitMbis'''^ ""-•^^ °^ none can gar ye blush ;,11 I J "^''^^' '"^^ your right L bonny bts's of m '" '''''"" '° ^''^'^ mark is on them buTm" When 7" '"^l"'' "° ""^"'^ again there'll be a .u.^^^, a 1 op MvTtr^'^ 7 and Athole, over by here, cot hi,; f' ^ ^^''^' ISO A SON OF GAD !Mi nil i\ ) > ■! m when Athole's minions looked in, Rob's place was empty. After that there were quaighs and collops at Dunveagle. Ugh ! men didn't lie uselessly on their backs then. He little guessed there was a conspiracy to keep him pnsoner, the captoin and the doctor being among the conspirators. "You see," Connie told them, "we are responsible for the accident, and Mr. MacLean mustn't leave until it's quite safe to remove him, must he?" She looked at ^the captain as one pleading for a favour; and to his shame Norman forgot his father's grumblings' and sufferings. "You are very good, Miss Ogilvie," he murmured. " No, don't say that," she cried. " Promise ! " She laid three dainty electric fingers on his arm, and his arteries began to beat excitedly. "Promise!" she repeated, archly bending towards him; and Kitty adding a plea to Connie's, he incontinently surrendered. The girls clapped their hands; now they had only to master the laird, who was at their mercy. He was more difficult to manage, but in the end he too capitulated on condition that he might have Ian Mackem beside him. So Ian returned for a space to the castle, lording it over the army of servants like a native prince over a troop of aliens. With Connie he could do nothing, and his master was equally helpless. The laird studied her closely as a new product of civilisation; a very charming, beneficent product, he was obliged to own, despite the fact that she was an Ogilvie, and insisted even with him on having her own way. A little wistfully he thought what her power over young men must be, seeing she did what she liked with the old. " If she does this with the dry tree," he said to himself, " what will she not do with the green ? " As a consequence of all these arrangements, Alick went CONNIE MAKES A DISCOVERY „, one thing he sang under her direction, and this led t„ fr.rr.rrbr "^^"-'^^^ Here was a curious inconsistency - nay she ZZT glanng .nsincerity or drug to the 'ailing 'conscience An honest lover of privileee she h-,H „„ ^- .'-°"^'='™':e- An of heaven for ^,^-,^ disposition to complain o: neaven for making her a rich man's daughter- but h^r A mere woman of the world would have shut eyes and Connie, while woman of the world. Teve^ «s» A SON OF GAD il American damsel is a woman of the world, was something more, and m this insUnce that something more was every- TOnking strange, new thoughts, she suddenly asked her protege — "Alick, if you were told you could have your dearest wish what would it be?" and promptly as tongue could speak came the answer, "Get Dunveagle back for the laird, mem. ' "Ah," she said,, with a little start; and th.n recovering w,th_^a smile, "And do you think there's any chance of Now to a boy of fourteen, vibrating in every fibre with hope and confidence, all things are possible, and Alick answered accordingly. "But," Connie rejoined, "it would take a great deal of money to buy back Dunveagle. Have you any idea how Alick had the same clear idea of the amount required as of the mtemal arrangements of Jupiter; but ignorance was no bar to belief. Yes, no doubt it would take a great deal of money, but what of that ? The laird was saving up. 'Saving up! "she repeated in surprise. " An?T'J!!""'" k""T'', '^"'''' 8'°*''"8 over a great secret. And I know where he keeps his money " "Why, of course he'll keep his money in a bank like other people," said Connie. But Alick smiled at her ignorance. "No," he answered, "he doesn't keep it in a bank because people would take it from him. But " He stopped suddenly as on the brink of a precipice flitered.'*'''' ^'"" "''^ ^" ^^'' ^^'"^'^ vanity was " Where then?" she asked graciously. "It's a secret," he replied, feeling the sweetness of having a great lady lianging on his answer. 'S3 .. , '^'''''^ MAKES A DISCOVERY ^_ And you won't trust me, Alick? •• ^ No. mem; Ian would kill me." inen Ian knows." Does CaptamMacUan know?" laird hlTeT" "°" '"' '^ '"'' - ''-- outside the ::And^do.s_the laird know that Ian and you know?- Connie's eyes opened a little wider. tonetf rpir "'; e r ■" "-^ ■"- '^«■■"- friends with me. Alick o te» 1 ^°u- *"' «°*^ «"°"8h Alick looked at ht reS HnT ' "' "'^ '"• '"'°'''" wo^an^secretislike^ri-^^^r-'^ i promised not to tell " h^ "Ian made me swear I'd nL teli."'''''""''''^ ''"'"^""y- "A"d you never break your word?" ■"o, mem." ^Z'ZTrZ raS"^ '''-'- '° -■ '- - «y. you'd " Ves. mem." She looked hard into his eyes. -■nt.r;;out;:„^-j-^:t ^s i."^-'- - ^ Where. e laird's bank is. I dXvou^irk:;twT 'he'pWe'S Sr""^"^ ^'^"^ P-^P'-y- "I found out shr^edSeSgiy' ""^ """ ^°" ^-»<^ ^' -'- Alick?" obX'Ln'^trt^tT °: ''■^ '^'•'- "^ "^-^ no 'he hidden fissu.T ^ rtfa'; f tf' ^"^ '^^ '" "Perhaps you rurther^wThtmrnt^'^rS- »S4 A SON OF GAD "Oh, yes, mem. One day, when the laird was away, Ian and me took it out and counted it." " And what happened then ? " Her face was keen with excitement, and Alick answered as If fascmated— "Well, mem, Ian asked me if I had any money, and I said yes, I had a little. ■ Very well,' he said, ' look what I am going to do, and if you want to see the laird back in Dunveagle you'll do as I do,' and with that he put his money with the laird's, and I did the same." Connie's eyes were shining. "So you added to his store. And how much did you put to It?" ' •• Ian put in two shillings and one shilling, and I put in one shilling and a sixpence." " And have you added any since ? " "Oh, yes, mem. We got six months' wages not lone since, and put in the half of it" "Alick," said Connie, drawing a deep breath, "I want you to promise you'll never say a word to anybody about telling me all this, to Ian or to anybody. You promise ? " " Yes, mem ; I'll nevor say a word of it to anyone but to you." "Good ! Mind, if you do, something terrible will hap- pen to you. But I am sure I can trust you. What you have told me is very interesting, and 1 want to think it over." She opened her purse and took out two pieces of gold. "You'll take these-there, now, don't trouble thanking me. Another time will do, and then, perhaps, if you're very good, Alick, you and I may have a secret of our own " When he left her it was of the captain's position she was thinking. It was pathetic. CHAPTER XXIV THE MAKING OF MILLIONS Y^U would not expect the railway policy of the Ameri Ah?k T r™-"^ "^'^ ^°""'«''' confidential talk with J, *.. «» ,„ *, p„^ £„ 2 tret! scnbes were dismissed and Messrs. Shilbeck Ind b '1 Twrtt'th ""'"" ^°""'^"- ^ ^'^ th: eS >S5 Im 'S* A SON OF GAD expression which belongs to him whose daily business it is to meet and overcome difficulties. In such a face the student of physiognomy finds at once a record and a stimulus; and without in the least knowing the fine name for the art, Messrs. Shilbeck and Brash were both experts. Mr. Ogilvie greeted them very quietly as they entered. His manner was always quiet when his mind was concen- trated-so quiet that a stranger or a fool who mistakes fossiness for energy might have thought him indifferent. But Duncan Ogilvie was never indifferent in business, never worked but with all his forces well in hand and alert for attack or defence. Insensibly the minds of Shilbeck and Brash responded with a bracing quiver, a throb as of deep-set machinery giving the first purr. But they, too, were cool; they, too, knew how to keep a serene face when the engines beneath were going full pitch. "Guess we may smoke," said Mr. Shilbeck, and, suiting the action to the word, clipped a cigar end. Smoking preserves a man from precipitation, and of all things Mr. Shilbeck looked on unconsidered action as the consumma- tion of folly. Some fool dubbed him "Job the Silent," but hi'i associates knew that his silence was a great deal more than most men's speech. So to preserve it, he said, "Guess we may smoke." "We'll all smoke," responded Mr. Ogilvie, and cigars were lighted. Bui a minute later they were all dead, save Shilbeck's, the red end of which glimmered like a fiery eye keeping watch. For the stakes were millions, and the game became absorbing, even to hardened players. With that brevity in which every word is worth thousands, Mr. Ogilvie sketched certain prospective move- ments in New York, indicated what he thought the money markets would bear without strain, and what they wouldn't, the opposition that was inevitable and the plans for THE MAKING OF MILLIONS ,^j esTete^iS i"'° ""' ■"'"■"*"' 'P^'' h« Packed the Price He sS.? 'T "'^''^"'^ ""'^ " '^'^^o.n ato'e pnce. He spoke as the general who completes his strategy for a campaign, but keeps his Uctics fluid for contS c.e»-a general, moreover, who knows precisely where h^. adversary is vulnerable and where invu'nemtt. J^eTet stnke and how to strike. He never made the mbtake S under^,.„g opp„„,„.3 . „^^ ^„^^ .^ ^^^ child of T;SS>cc ShrrK K^"'* '^""« "^'«''^'» -«> resolved STs Tis l^ r thrust difficulties out of sight. « In counse t ,s good to see dangers; but in execution not toTe h^^d'SM ''o'r "? ^'"••" ^^ ^''^ VerSam- to hLrt ^""' ''"'=°'"^'' '■°' h*'"''^'^ ^n'l took Shilbeck and Brash listened without a word, but before he was h^ done, the latter was chewing his ci^ar L for. M? L,h '^'Y^""'' ^^ »"°« fece was flushed, for Mr Brash s prophet eye spied unlimited spoil. Thats ripping!" he cried, when Mr. Ogilvie had fintshed. "Yes. sir, I guess that'll just make NoTvo J sit up and scratch its head." " ini be something for our friends of the financial press to dnvel over," smiled Mr. Ogilvie. ^ wh!?\'"^J"" \^' °P™°" °^ ">e fimmcial journalist ot;^rie; thZer-"^ '-'-' ^^^°- -^ ^^■ ca;s.'';;:^""^''>'=°"«™^''^ "«"-''>««- will Mr. Shilbeck took the cigar from his mouth, rose with troSf'r"^"'""' ^'"^^ '•>« ^p'«°- into pos^n.:;; thoughtfully expectorated. All that accomplished with £ coming dignity, he sat down again. mo,I%^l ""T"^ '"*'''"S ''™'^'f comfortable once more, reckon the goose will cackle all right" He began to smoke again, his long countenance as •58 A SON OF GAD expressionless as a sleeping elephant's. But Mr. Shilbeck was far, very far from being asleep. "Reckon Giles Dunbar has something to say," he re- marked, stretching his legs, and blowing a long whiff. May as well tell us what it is." Mr. Ogilvie read a confidential letter from Mr. Dunbar and Mr; Shilbeck gazed upward with rapt eyes, as if absorbed with pictures on the ceiling. "You see, he's confident of everything but Congress " commented Mr. Ogilvie. congress, Mr Shilbeck rose again, slid the spittoon along a yard with his foot, again expectorated with the same thoughtful- ness, and again sat down. "Just so," he said, emitting a thin blue streak "Just so. He ain't the first man that's been uncertain in his own mmd bout Congress. No, sir. Congress don't exactly lay Itself out to make men easy in their minds. No, sir, it ain't that style. Congress is a pretty ticklish bucking mustang sort of an ammal to ride, pretty ticklish. Bucks like Ole Nick just when you don't expect it. Talk of bronchos I I tell ye a broncho's a suckin' dove beside Congress. Yes sir, an innocent lamb, that ain't got no thought but to b^ meek, and please, and cuddle up, and be made into cut- "You're the man to ride the mustang," said Brash ad- miringly. "Well," admitted Job modestly, "I have been on it when It bucked pretty bad. Only in a case of this kind the thing bucks wuss because the other side's always puttin' ginger under it's tail. There's been a heap of ginger put under that unfortunate animal's tail." He was not going to admit that lobbying is an easy art. To have done that would be an act of self-derogation, and self-derogation does not pay. Besides, the opposition had money, and Congressmen unhappily were extremely THE MAKING OF MILLIONS .j, "It's like this," he said irravLlv "v«.. i„ i. C^ns.uoo.ion. .ad about Co„S."nd feeTh ^P, ""c '„^ cZr" "" '""'T'"" '° ^ P'""-! Of. To this day. ° Congress beg,ns bu with prayer and all that. It's i ,' bts"?ln'th H It '""°" ^'■"«*"' °' -'' -■""'"- tm i;J ll^ u " "*' ' '°" °f pan millennial mee.in' Irlt? , f " -^ ''""''^ '°""'^' «"" 'hen, holy F«her ~nde„? ''' "'"''. '•'"' '«"'^<^ 'he Declaration of l"de pendence must squirm in the grave. Those that ,,!. runnin' for offices and wan, boo^min' in the „JLs" "' make speeches, but they don't count. For y" ^^ speeches are meant for editors lookin' out for'so^th 1 sp.cy and strong to write about, for party manager foe™ correspondents, country people and such •' ^ " Not for Congress," said Brash. "No sir, not for Congress. Congress don't give a con- tmental for speeches. Congress keeps one eyf on this " pocket, the other bem' for public opinion. Pocket and pubhc opmmn, that's the shrines that Congress wSiips "t You may go to Congress and orate like an a'ngel, but ye K get no votes on that plan. No, siree. Eloqu nee fs a fine hmg to Ulk about and put in school-book's, a^d mentSn m noospapers and on tombstones, but it don^; coun"' ClayrltdMtSir ''- ^"^"^ -^^ ^^"-^^ -' " I ain't denying that a fust-class orator's useful to stumn the country." Mr. Shilbeck returned. "He gets lotes uo ^SsTdTd"'™ ""^- ""' '^ '^-■' ^^^^^^• gress, and he don't get into the White House Your ora-tors don't become presidents. Jim Blaine d dn't 2 Webster d.dn't. and Clay didn't. J to Congest the S ■ fc i6o A SON OF GAD de/klT '\"' l"'''^- '^''^" * ■"*" "'^ down at his desk he knows how he's goin' to vote, and he writes letters .nst«jd_of listenin' to speeches. He don't want W" We re lucky in having a good man for the lobby, then," ^. iTu "'"""^'^ "'"''''"y- " ^«'" 'ely on you " Mr Shilbeck took a fresh cigar and lighted it. When my friends act on the square," he replied "I reckon they'll find me actin' on the square too " othe'rirsints:'" "" "^^'^'' ^""^ ''^ ^°"-' '"-«' '° In the end it was decided that Mr. Brash should take ^e next steamer from Liverpool to New York. Mr Ogilves judgment said he ought to go himself, because the scheme was b.g. and the developments were likely to be head. But he had promised his mother and daughter to remam at Dunveagle for the summer, and on the basis of that prom.se made his arrangements. The consequences were to be such as even his sagacity could not foresee. CHAPTER XXV A MOMENTOUS INTERVIEW evil deeds, and for the temhT u"^ 'P°'°8ies for his accept them. '"""^ '""« '^e laird declined to -i? h?drrer..?,rf '- -^ °™ - at all." "^ '^"" "-as mine, not yours "urdy politeness. ^ '"°'°'^' '"'" returned Je/i„ be'omrsStrjrjhi :::" ^^ ^■"^ ^^ "pe-d to W remarked, tryl;„;XT • " "^ '"^ "^^^-^ P- everything, m; mind on ^eTar''- °'"' '^"°' ''"°* « the Highlands or any "hi eTse n"' T' " """■ "-^^ ""en ^ '« of themselves. Onle in th ^^^' '° ^ ""^ t° take " That was in the good old '"'""■ '^'' "'''" ■n Connie, "when thaTSori vr^H '''■• ''^•=^-'" P"' . "^^i^itzsj:^^ '7 ""•'"'^• i6a A SON OF GAD a sough from the past, the memory of other years. Ah, God! what he had loved and lost in his hard, solitary, fighting life. Well, thanks be to Heaven, he, even he, had tasted of its best long centuries ago, when the white hair was brown, and the Uned face was smooth, and the strong heart unconquerable. And the bliss he had known, a fleeting hour of Paradise, this fair, smiling creature would doubtless bring to another. The touch of those delicate hands would soothe the favoured one hke an anodyne when he was vexed or fevered, those fine eyes would melt upon him in fondness, that voice would caress to peace and happiness. The laird almost forgot she was an Ogilvie. She repeated her request, and he began to tell the story of Montrose and the sword. To Connie's horror Jeff laughed, making derisive remarks on barbarism and ob- solete methods of war, and with a flushed, half-indignant face she whipped him away, lest the patient should be wroth. " I must instruct Jeff' in these things," she said to her- self " He doesn't understand. ' And she was disposed to be offended because Jeff' was an American out and out, because he loved the smart and up-to-date, and lacked taste for the pageantry of history. Linnie, who had been keeping Kitty in amusement, marked her passing out with the captain, her face extra- ordinarily bright, and a vehement jealousy seized him. " That fellow again," he thought viciously. " Curse and confound him. This is no better than the retnm of the whole MacLean tribe to Dunveagle. I wonder Ogilvie tolerates them." But the first words he addreued to Connie were a pohte inquiry for her patient. " He's doing splendidly," she answered, with an interest which almost gave Mr. Linnie jaundice. "Come, lefs have a walk round the garden," she added, linking her arm in Kitty's. A MOMENTOUS INTERVIEW ,5 To prevent Captain Marl Pan'. „ ' ^ trived ,0 accompa„; them Connr"'"''''""'' "' ™"- playful, which is to say her „o?r """ '" "^^ '"°'' mood of light misch'ef .L r^""""'' '"°°'^- '^t'^' wards CainrctL'^^rhlTd:?''^' '- -St others, her merriment buLd Tike , ^tal "'": is incapable of Sht ' ^hen il h "'°"' '°' ' ''°-- mires; perhaps of d I n t . """""^ '°"' '^e ad- buddiSnctwhfch Tk P' °^ '"'"'^""■"8 '^'=^. ^°me In any'c^e The Tnd hi ah. r' "'""^ ™''"^'°°<^ "erself. bante/and ^Vtrand M^TLosT t:t "^ '^°"'^. cruelty, she was conscious of an odd uL . '"'^' °^ in the company „f Captain MacLa^ """"' "^''"'"' on:i:s:^^::;:;r::'l;^-r^-'^'^^ood such a game Mr Ttni ■ '^ / ^" ''"=' ^'^'^^ ^"^ '" Kitty waHf^ouseriudeltr' T '=°"'*^'"P'-'"«- best stake in case th. ni f , ' ^'^"''"'"es as second As "the mirLt^t: 1 plf h^"'^ ™^^- mouse of any soul " sn fhT T ^ " '^'^ "^"^^ ^^ a heiress will Lt2y ha e^^rrrThr'''" K '° "^ ^" gun. Of the two, Miss OgilvTe had tt ""' '^"'^' '° "'^ but Kitty's rharr^. ^ S''^^'^'' attraction • manSentorBel'Is^rrr''^ T"' ^ P^''-' stroke of policy to make the n ' "T "^ '' ^" ^" "' of a riyal. Luck^^yT h ,^™^-^''S'« heiress conscious self. Jeff kept them . ""''' ''^ '''"' ">'^'" '" ^im- warmer^nterel'tslh^hT 1^"?' ''"^ ^-"^ stables, where to his infinV ^- '''"''^'^ f° '^e with I^n Veg Lt " f "\.'''T'°"' ""^ ^°^8^*ered Mr.ShilbeckwasenTldon' ? " "^ '°''^' ''°'"«- ^a s b, b:^^;^-— dtr-z •-- Norman were smoicmg by themselves under a gr^t beecT li 'f "54 A SON OF GAD To these two the situation might have been embarrassing since the feelings of dispossessed and dispossessor are not usually concordant; and, indeed, on thus finding them- selves for the first time alone, the sense of constraint was tor a moment oppressive. But throw two reasonable, courteous, catholic-minded men of the world together, and were they sworn foes they will discover common ground. Here, moreover, the elements of personal antagonism were eliminated. From Mr. Ogilvie's eyes the scales of illusion and prejudice had long since fallen. Knowing its frailty, he did not crunt too much on friendship, nor trouble with enmity, knowing .ts foohshness. "To cherish hatred for others," he had said "IS only to keep your own sores open. Men are neither angels nor fiends, but weak, unstable things engaged in a terrific struggle for existence. What tfaev would they do not, what they would not they do. In the str^of circumstances motives and intentions change Therefore it is best to take the friend of to-day as if aa adverse wind might, against his will, make him an enemy to-morrow: and an eaemy as if to-morrow would make nim a fnend." Therefore, he never thought it worth his while either to gush or to plan revenge. The Master-Damatist makes foUv of both. ' The captain too had been up and down the world, learn- ing under the sternest and best of schoolmasters, and had returned, bringing a practical philosophy. He found a stranger in Dunveagle, but knew that stranger was as little responsible for his own misfortunes as were the start m the nndnight sky. He could sit on a bench beside the new lord of Dunveagle without any itching to cut his throat nay, even wnb ^mething of the spirit of comradeship! The man had succeeded rr^gnificently where others had tailed, but why hate him ? m^mm^ A MOMENTOUS mmviEW ,g, I^ume himself on her favours Bu. 1' "^' "''^'^ '° admue the grit of the man who rnn h • "^"^ '^''P°='^'» '° possessions which had once been hT '" •'" "'^ ""'^'' °f resentment because they had nT.r''" ^'"'°"' ^ ''»" o^ «re„gth of character "'he re™ I. '°'"°"'^'- "That's world is built on character '' '''^ '"^"'^"y- "«"d the -X:s:::t'mfri^rr^H«--^ '•pajcularlywhenle' ilre"^?"'" ^"™- ^-^^d. "-^-S^rririrr-."-"- -ent But I'm not at al u^if^ ^""^ °^ «"'- ^^y of it. You have been ;^ "'"^ '"^" '^ou'd MacLean, and know beHer than T' '°' =P°'^' Captain '"ckiest of us scrapes throLhv^J '^" "" ''" '"'^ "«^ "That, sir is certainl tf " °^ '^'" '^'^'h." ~s worth countrngis^concemTd" '" " ''"^ '"""-^ ciaresa; Z^uZ Ttttt TT '^ — '^^ I •linking all was lost wL" luck T "°"^ " "''^ ^ght. ^"y rate, I know." ^"^ '^^'"^ '° 'he rescue. At "Ifyou\'relTntoi7;of;,?,r"'-"''^°"'=''^°™-"' army is niggard of chances^" ^ '^"" '°"'°™^- The demed to ourselv' s. I S h^' " ''''' "PPortunities 'h-* opportunities are pn." v et r"i •' ""''''" '^'""''^ '^o- i66 A SON OF GAD m With us the failures are about 99I per cent • in „«, 4.- -Nor;'' '■'■ °' '""' ■»"• »~ *»!». «' deterrent Th^ Z V ^ ^'"^"'" '"'^'^^^ are no hand, fights on a marg,n of an eighth of onl ^TcL^"; ^^^ A MOMENTOUS INTERVIEW think that Napoleon w«Lt ii"''^'"""'- "°«^ '^Vone &»van„ah, Gmnt ffter R^oS/ n' '""'"''" ''''^ Gould wasn't elated when h. f J . ° y°" ""ink Jay Ne- York Stock Elran" or R n""''" "^'^^ "^ '"e he sent the fleet of CM^n'T ?'"'''' ''" J^*' ''hen fo-s of his race? Thev Lv f '^'"'"''' ''''^ ''"'^ditary talked nationally, but the'y were dru^k'^f '"^"'^ -^ Amencan poets says- °'*'=''^"ess last? As one of our Ay, ou, Wo,.d Auioc™, ,„ Hghi ,he,= -' outsider before. ^ ''*'' "^ver spoken to an spirit in which it is given You k" 'I''' '^''^" '" "''^ 'o understand that in au' biJ h„ "'^"^^ "'^" ''"""gh "ngs and inner rings In ^y, T'' ''""^""^ 'here are Cabinet visible to all'eye" -^t^'r'- '^'', '^"^"'P'^. there is the known only to the few Tht r^h' ""^ '""" Cabinet uses, departmental and so forth I""' "u ^ '''''°'^' f'^" 'ts constitutes the real power h ' "'^ '""" Cabinet makes terms of peace arram'" '°'"^' '^^^'^^'^^ -ar, the same in finance 'vorhT '"'"'T''''- ^' '^ --*«i; all the world; bu the mo iven ^°"^'=-•^^"ges quoting to three-fourths of the^ ^^^1: the 'm " '''^'''"'^- -'' however they may plume themse ve, V' P"PP*'^> - — - -ew VornSrTa:%'iCr= '*' A SON OF GAD art hit?! "' "'.u""^** '""^' '■°"°"- ^" London *"« are har,.ly more. The rest don't count, as we say. And I happen to have been able to push my way into the inner rmg on our side; and that ring when it takes concerted action can bring about results as certainly as you can solve a mathematical problem." / " "«> soive He glanced round lest idle ears sho-u be listening. HintflT '' '' r"' °"' "■' ""^''^ ''^ »-" -""«='• news h^e^r?" ""!'''' ^'' °"' '' '^ *^ -^ ^-i-d what .s gomg on. And now I come to the point. Within certl'"™"'' ^^' '""^ bucket-shops will be babbling of ce-^n movements on the New York Stock Exch^ge Catkin mT '"°':' "PP°" ''""' ^"'>°"' '-^ I 'hint. 2e"^^ "^^'-P^°^-<^^d y- '^o-e in and go out as An expression of surprise and hesitancy came into brow for, wuh the sole intention to benefit, Mr. Ogilvie had done an exceedingly cruel thing. vou" S""°' '"!, ^.°"' t"' ^°^ """""^ ^ f«^' '"debted to you he responded, "but I have really „o knowledge whatever of such things." ^ Mr. Ogilvie laughed lightly. "As to that, I'll tell you a little secret," he said mistakmg the momentary confusion of the other " Iri nme cases out of ten, when outsiders come in, it's the man of blessed Ignorance who wins. You open your eyes, but there s no cause for ama^ement. To the mass, speculations on Change are a pure gamble. Even the broker who buys and sells for the irnier ring seldom knows the reasons for his instructions. And that is why so many of them get left, to use an expressive Wall Street phrase. If the .xpc^ A MOMENTOUS INTERVIEW jgg Sit; iviv'" ''^ '"^ °^ ^ p"- -'^'<^-' ButTh! '^ !k ^' . """^ '""^^ '" 'en you'd be rieht But the tenth man ^ ,uck and wins, never knowing how 1!« ;k f- *°"'^ " '^"" °^ "anomalies. Lawyers who are all the.r hves making other people's wills Z' their sh^' iT" "'^'"' ''''" °^" ^^h, shoemake'^s are ign:«;;^tlrnor■r^.s^';^ rr^-. ''-' -^ Norman returned. ° ''""'* "^amst me." Mr. Ogilvie bowt>d. " But." continued Norman warmly " I conlH n„. »»,• u r troubling .^e whose hands are alSy fill" "' °' But in the kindness of his heart Mr. Ogilvie seemed bent on pushmg matters to extremity ' w„','.M ^- *^°"'' '^'"'' "^ ''°"'"^-" he rejoined quickly " It for?h? "•'^.'"'errupted by Connie, who brought a letter _ And where are the others ? " her father asked. Mr lLI"^'"" t"'''^ ^'' '"°'°''" '^- ^"'wered, "and tiono;rDrs^ 'r t t ^-'°«'«' ^— " Oh, thank you ! " she t-nVH " r „„ i Pa^ dear wHoL matc^ ^for IZZ^Z:^; m a comphmentary mood. Perhaps Captain MacUan hal a better opinion of our intelligence " She turned so witching a face to Norman t.hat if he had had the secrets of the world they were hers for thf asking CHAPTER XXVI A TEST OF LOYALTY Slfoi"!^ ""l" u •""'="'' '>°"'=^^'- 80ing so abruptly kJ Norman thought he must have offended her With diZ:j!"' "* ""'■ °'"^^'" '^°™^" — «^ - "Ohl" said the laird in surorise- "anrt who. v ■.. fair question, did you find to S a'bout?" '' " "" ' Norman laughed, but not very heartily. Various things, father," he replied; "but the chief thing was counsel to a penniless man t^ go to a bak 'l and buy himself bread while it is cheap " ' The laird hitched himself up i„ bed like a wounded war-horse rousing at the sound of the trumpet. What s that ? " he demanded. " Cou; selling 1 rvnn-i man to go to the baker's and buy br^d did you saTS 170 A TRST OF LOYALTY ,„ (or'Sl':. """ '" •" """°''" ""'^'^ '"« •*"". -n.i„g generosity and gSZli." '' ''""^' "'^ ""''^'' '" P"'' "Umph!" the laird interjected. "The satire was quite unconscious," Norman went on though perhaps the keener edged on that account T„' Le a'Thlr 1 '"^''^''" '^'^ °8ilvie wanted to gil" me a chance of makmg a little money." ^ notion of fleecing- ""«' °f 'he alternative ? Any "We must be lair," said Norman. "Mr. Ogilvie's sol« idea was to benefit me." ^gi'vies sole "Vou are convinced of that?" "Absolutely." ^ ■•_^Ah, well ! " as in disappointment. " And what did you ha?^'^V*'°"I'^.^ "^y' ^ '''^"ked him, saying that 1 that T r;''-"'^'^ °' ''"'=•' °P«""°-- His repllwas Sto t r^'^''" ''"'' "'"^'^'y- J' ''eems that on Z luck S :"'VT r"^ '""""^^ - '"- Pri-">e of luck. Its a sort of glorified Monte Carlo, where you gay agamst tremendous odds and win with your eyes shut But as Mr. Ogilvie himself was to look Le mv „Ue speculation I'd of course win." ^ ;; And had you no inclination to take him at his word ? " when wavsTd' "'''' "' "' ''"«"' '° ^^P^" '"<='--'-" wnen ways and means are doubtful or non-ex-atent I thmk that on the whole the best plan is for the inniles man to avo.d the temptation of the baker's slop "^rhave no money to risk." '^ ^^ "And if you had?" The laird's eyes were gleaming. MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TBT CHAHI (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. J) 12.8 1 3.2 136 I" 12.2 12.0 iM m u i I, Kil^l^ A APPLIED IIVMGE In SS"- '653 East Moin Street S^S WochBster. New York 14609 USA ■.^S ^^'6) *e2 - OJOO - Phone ^S (^'6) 288 - ^989 - Fo» '7* A SON OF GAD 'i ii ,1 IN "An 'if is an awkward stile to get over" laughed ^e starllr t TT "'^ '"" ^"<^ "'^ -""On ani ^c^r B rs- be"o7 T" ^"' "^^'" '" °- father?" ' ^°" "^ comfortable, "Quite comfortable, thank you, quite. If I were at home I could not be more consid red or be ter attended poss.bly not so well. You'll see to things a CragenaS' Norman. It's a sore trial to be on one's back likelv' ref^rl "r'V' '"'"^ '^" '^^-^•"^ '° think,>rThe reference just made ,o money was the first that had passed unm stakable. lake a strong man, he might out a brirfu S rTat Vr^.^ '"~"' -etlX: a'nt! ing sore. In a throbbmg heat the laird went over his own abourthe^vif ;^ wlltra^d^rt, ""^^"'^ '"'""^ R»t, ! .u • . ^"° "'s blessmgs of poverty of povertvt °'.^^-".\«'- - '-"ing i' the bleTsS ot poverty ,„ bemg without it; and the man who said irraTar an^ Tt " ^^^^^ '^'"^ «^^ selMn%r I . ''"'"''"e- ^" "-en, he told him- self m thezr hearts desire riches, the priest as much as Te pubhcan, perhaps more; the noble as well as The pauper One standard ruled the world. Even sa^a rinn "^ mattpr r,f j~ , J ■ salvation was a See thaf on -r' ''" ''''""'• ''^^^'^'^ y. The laird pricked up. "One thing, is there?" he returned. "I run too fast then. Let us have it." " No, no, sir," cried Ian, startled by his own indiscretion. " We're squaring accounts," said the laird. 176 A SON OF GAD lan's face quivered. " I'm just a doitering old fool," he said. "Never mind me.' " But I will," said the laird. " 1 ask what you're keeping back." ^ ^ "Well, then," cried Ian desperately, "it iss just the Ogilvies. You lying here, and me going about and seeing their black beasts— their servants, sir— where they should not be at all." "Ian," said the laird, with affected severity, "you must not talk like that. We're guests here, and it becomes guests to keep civil tongues in their head. But we're off again. To come to business, I want you to do something very par- ticular for me. But, first, you'll take an oath of secrecy." CHAPTER XXVII THE laird's secret AT that suggestion of a vow, Jan's face took on an jTV expression of acute pain, as if pride and loyalty were both hurt . but the laird was quick with salve. thi,l°r '^"'^' ^'"■" ^' ""'''■ "J'-" ^^''ing you to take this oath because I couldn't trust you without it You know whether I have always trusted you or not Th.^" ihlh ""' 1 7'"^ '^°" ™P°"^"' I "consider a secre L^w T; '" '""« "^"^^ ^^^''^^ '"y^-lf will a one know. And now swear." ,h.^L?r i'"P'-°vised form, without Bible or blade, Ian took he oath, and waued in a beating curiosity and i^patiencT In a low voce, tentatively and with many stops likH ma„ wh Z t Tl- ''' ''"'' P'^^^^^^d '° ""fo'd the secre" which he had kept so long and so jealously. Ian listed faculty and feature were impressed to aid his ears in taking m a strange and moving tale. ^ By degrees, too, the speaker lost the air of extreme «ut.on, spoke faster, and ever with more passion tn at last, shooting out the whole arm, he gripped'lan and d ew him down upon a chair by the bedside earl^fTn ""'""li' '' '"''^' "^ °"^ "''° ''^^^"s the lurking Xtl^^l^-f'^- "^^--'•'-•^''- VoufolJ h,!i^^'' "'u " ^"^ ^"''^^'•ed, his very flesh creepin- He had seen the laird, as he thought, in aH moods of j^y and " 177 178 A SON OF GAD ,-..' grief and wrath and regret and revenge, but .(ever with such an eerie, mysterious aspect as this. "Vou know, Ian Veg," he went on, m that tone of suppressed excitement which thrills more than the wildest violence, " you know that a desperate man does desperate things, ay, and foolish. If the world went well with us at every turn, God ! what Solomons we'd all be. It's easy to be a good sailor, going with fair wind and tide ; it's hardly so easy when they're both rough and against us. If a man wanted your life, you'd do your best to prevent him, wouldn't you ? And you wouldn't be too particular about your method. Well, Ian Veg, men wanted my life, lay in wait for it like thieves and assassins, tried every plan hate and greed could suggest to get it. Wherever I turned there was an enemy in ambush ready to spring on me. For a while, damn them, they got as good as they gave. I've that satisfaction, anyway, Ian. But at last you mind that the Philistines put out Samson's eyes. I was alone. I had none to meet my enemy in the gate. I could trust no one, except Janet and yourself, and your devotion has been a miracle of human goodness. Ian, I thank you now." " Don't, sir, don't ! " Ian cried in anguish. "One thing the recording angel will set down is this," pursued the laird. "In his heart Alan MacLean never knew how to be ungrateful. That white mark will stand against many black marks, and who knows, Ian, the Great Judge may smile at the eternal bar and say, 'Alan MacLean, you have sinned much ; here and here you are red as scarlet, but in this one little spot you are white as wool. It saves you, Alan MacLean; pass on.' Imaj, .le the surprise of some godly folk at that. But not to wander, nobody knows how I was set upon by thieves, but I was determined to fight to the last drop of blood." " I know, sir," said Ian, in a heaving pant. THE LAIRDS SECRET ,„ "Y^,» responded the laird. "You knew I fought, but you didn't always know how." He wiped a moist forehead. "You remember the captain's mother, Ian?" "Till the day I die I'll mind her, sir," cried Ian, "and how we felt when we lost her." "Thank you, Ian," returned the laird, with an effort to keep a quivenng voice steady. " My God ! how much has come and gone since then. But we mustn't unman our- selves by going back on that. Well, one day when she felt her time coming-Ian, there's something that tells people when the.r time is near at hand-when she felt hers, she came to me one day very quiet like with a little bag in her hand. 'I made this myself,' she said, holding it out, 'and there s something in it; a little money that I have saved a pound now and a pound again, and it's all in gold' I thought '—and, Ian, the look in her face has never left my eyes; when we meet again she'll see her own image there-' I thought,' she said, coming a wee bit nearer n <> I thought It might be useful one day for Norman. Poor boy, he'll not have much.' It was all I could do to speak but I look the bag, saying it would be Norman's, and hid It, never knowing how much the gold was." Both men's eyes were wet; simultaneously they brushed away that sign of weakness. "When she left us," continued the laird— "you mind the way of It, Ian— the question was how to keep the harpies from gettmg their fingers on the treasure. One night when there wasn't a soul near, I went out to the wood, and under the starlit vault swore an oath before the living God that the man who tried to take it would die, if I had to hack him in pieces. God took pity, and saved me from murder and death on the gallows. But God's pity was all 1 had. There's no use ripping up old wounds. The past «s past; let it be. You know what happened. You were lor me, Ian, you and Janet, when everybody else was If'i 1 80 A SON OF GAD li.mMi against me ; and if I have ever wronged you, done or said anything to hurt you, I ask your forgiveness now." Ian bowed his head, caught the laird's hand and pressed it to his lips. " Tan, man," said the laird in a kind of choking protest, " you'll make a woman of me There, there." For a moment he was silent, and then went on. " Yes. You and Janet stuck to me when all else failed me, not counting my boy, who couldn't help, poor little soul; and you did more than you thought, for it was by your help I was able to keep the bag. Never mind how. It was never out of my thoughts, neither it nor my oath. God's mercy preserved me from spilling blood, but the temptation was awful, Ian. It makes me shiver whiles at midnight yet. Well, I left Dunveagle a beggar. They came and rouped me, they came all together like a pack of hounds about a spent hare, and they left me stripped, like Job on his dunghill ; but, Ian, man, I saved my treasure. It lay here flat against my very heart. One day, when they had my keys and were searching the drawers and boxes, one of them — there were two — turned and asked me if I wasn't concealing something. A kind of dizziness came on me, a wild feeling to put him from ever speaking again. You know me, Ian. I could have laid him dead before he could raise a hand or a cry come out of his throat for help. Ay, both him and his companion, who had turned also. For a minute I was just drunk and giddy as I looked at them. 'Some day,' I thought, 'an old woman will be showing the dark stain on the floor where their blood ran out.' Ay, and I had no thought but to do it, for I could stand no more. But there's a Providence takes care of us from ourselves. Just when I was stretching my hand for my skenedhu, kept sharp on purpose, your wife, Janet, came in and saved me. Dear me, how hot it is ! My handkerchief, Ian, and a drink." THE LAIRDS SECRET ,8, He wiped his brow and took -,ng draught of cold water. "And then, sir?" Ian asked fearfully. "I turned without a word." said the laird, "and the coward had his life. Till we're all before the Judgment- seat he 11 never know how near he came to losing it that day. Well, I went, keeping my treasure. I went to Craigenard-you'll mind how-and still there was the need of hidrng. ' Ian wriggled as if his chair were a quick-set hedge, and breathed as if someone had him by the throat. "I hid the money, Ian." pursued the laird, "no livinc soul but myself knowing where." Ian started like a guilty man, his face drawn, his eyes hard on the laird. "And at last," said his master, "I have reached my pomt. Listen with all your ears to what I am going to tell And then minutely, point by point, he described the place of that great rock which Ian knew so well and had visited so often, with full knowledge of the hoard it held. "I kept my secret from everybody, as you can under- stand, the laird went on, while Ian tingled in pity and remorse over men's pathetic errors. "You'll understand now. too, why I asked for an oath of secrecy. Now to the reason for telling all this. Frc the wreck I managed to save a little, a very little of my own, to which I have sine added an odd penny now and again. It's all together in that hole in the rock." Ian thought he must cry out to relieve himself and undeceive the laird, but he maiaged to hold his peace, shutting his lips the tighter the more urgently the feeling within struggled for expression. "Do I trust you now, Ian?" the laird asked. "Well listen. I want you to go up there, taking care that no one i8a A SON OF GAD it sees you. The original bag you'll find rolled up inside another of stouter make. This last also holds my little savings. Bring me that here, but leave the other where you find it, and, Ian, as you love me, take care it is well hidden, md that nobody spies upon you. You must he as secret as the grave." Luckily the laird was himself too eager and excited to mark fluctuations of feeling in another. " At once, sir ? " Ian asked. "Yes, at once. I want it here within the next two hours. If I weren't on my back I'd go myself. But I put my faith in you, I.in." "And you'll not be sorry, sir," i