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ICMH

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Canadian Imtituta for Hiitorical Microraproductiona / Inttitut Canadian da microraproductlona hiatoriquaa

1995

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D
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1 2 3

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

r»_-'^.

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

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

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

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

! ^;

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

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

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

A SON OF GAD

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-

A SON OF GAD

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.

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

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."

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

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."

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

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

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.

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

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

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.

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

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.

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

" 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

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

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.

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

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

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.

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

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."

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

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

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

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.

*:^-^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

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 "

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

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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

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."

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

A SON OF GAD

•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

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.

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

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

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„ '" ""'^ "' ' "''"'^"<J= found

^triWng between a MacZfr ""Tl""'' '''"^" "^-^•=' ^
You assure r , ^""^ * ^'""'« ^ '"'o* my duty

not^re oTthToS: " '"^ "'"^"^ '° ''^'"^ ^'-i
No^aTlSti:^^--^—-- answered

a™iS"'''AitfR;th»te''c i'.'h ^'^" "^ ^^ ^°" ■--
"tell Ian Ve« I want' h !'^; 'P^'"^ ^^'^ "«'"-'>^'.

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.

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

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, £

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

\ 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|

'°' 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

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."

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

A SON OF GAD

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-<ied Donald,
threebollsof coarse 1ml 1 . '^^' "°' '° '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.

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'' '*""« ^ ^^

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.<ises, ch, Donald ? " put in the laird.
" A wee bittie, sir," said Uonald, in hot confusion.
"Donald, Donald, what are you saying?" cried the
captain.

" Politely assenting," interpolated Connie, with a rippling
laugh, and moving on, remarked confidentially to Norman,
" Apollo in the guise of a Highland shepherd, and appar-
ently without the knowledge that he's handsome."

The encomium was well meant, but she had never seen
Donald studying himself in the cracked glass on his bothy
wall when about to descend for conquest among the lasses
of the gler.

The captain wondered how Miss Ogilvie would feel over
the secret sentiments of her Apollo. " It would neve do
to tell her," he reasoned, " yet she's not a woman if she
wouldn't be pleased."

At that moment Mrs. Ogilvie, coming up, remarked
casually, "I forgot to say, dear, there was a big bundle
of letters for you in the morning's mail."

Now even a sheep-shearing, with all its sunshine and
romance and merriment, speedily loses interest to a woman
who knows there are letters awaiting her, and presently
Miss Ogilvie discovered it was high time to go. There
being no other escort, Captain MacLean must needs see
the ladies home.

" And of course you'll stay for luncheon," said Connie,
in a manner that was not to be resisted

CHAPTER XVIII

A MILLIONAIRE AT WORK
'T'HE responsibilities of an American railway macnatc

That clicking meant chaos and a breakdown of th. i .

founded. Then tC? . . <:°nf"sron worse con-

WJ. S wa'a'T^'wlir '^'T''"''' "'"'^'^ ■"
one was a Low lander and civilised, had ac-

ii8

A SON OF GAD

cepted a post in the benighted Highlands in expectation of
rural, leisurely ways ; and behold ! she was being hurried
to her grave because fussy, idiotic people three thousand
miles away were every minute of the day asking silly
questions and demanding instant answers. She had had
hopes in life, but where was a girl's chance of happy mar-
riage if she was to be all her time bent double over a
cursed telegraphic instrument ? With characteristic energy
the Government superseded her, and doubled the number
of telegraph messengers, that is to say, increased it from
one to two ; and as Mr. Ogilvie still complained, a second-
hand bicycle was added to the staff. The budding official
who was appointed to scour the mountain roads on this
engine of swiftness spent much valuable Government time
by the wayside in a brown study over punctures. The
wiggings that ensued when important despatches were
hours late in reaching Dunveagle hurried the Aberfourie
postmaster into old age at a rate which alarmed his
doctor. He was not accustomed to American methods.

" They're killing me ! " he said tragically ; " they're kill-
ing me ! " and wiped a weary brow.

The glen generally speculated on these things half in
wonder, half in ave. A new spirit was among them, and
its manifestations were marvellous.

" Keeps three men at the writing together," said one who
sometimes had a glass of ale with the butler, and was
therefore accepted as an authority on ways and means at
the Castle.

" Shorthand and machine-writing too. What d'ye think
of that?"

" How does he manage it ? " asked another
" I'll tell ye what my friend the butler says," answered
the first, rising several degrees in importance. "He ex-
plains it in this way. He says the brains of Americans is
packed, as ye might say, in wee drawers, and that as one

A MILLIONAIRE AT WORK ,ig

drawer shuts another opens of itself. I'y oneni.>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'""^ '"'"'°"^' -'^ -°'''<i
Connl' . ""'" "'''°'"''y "°">'"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 !

■■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

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 <ssiiA ntu-

'«. wh.;, ■b.^ji;: ™ "' «■*. i«» p,o„drf

made to chase a motor trave linJ Jl ""'"^^ °^ ''^'"g

"I guess that's so," rSS C '"? ""''^^ ^" ''°--
to his cigarette. « My nu^ J"^ T"^' "PP'y'"g ^ ^esta

can come to business at once v "' ^ «""'' '^^

■notor's French and accustomed Tn " ''"' " ' '"'^ ''"■^- 'h^
"ead a bit on the openS , WndT'' '"' «^'^^'=-- '''
a fact. But of cour^r-J^ °'^ '*" ''"'^y- That's

What's the dami?'- '''P°"^""^ ''°^ ''» g^^d conduct!

staSrsuteitir::;- j„t7- ^'^° ■^^■^-"' -<> -

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

"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^

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

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\ )

> ■!

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

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

'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

"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

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

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

"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' ''" ''''""'• ''^^^'^'^ <l«-'-^ed in
practice that one rich man's soul is worth a gross of the
souls of poor men. Monev is kina „f m T
The laird did not reasor'L':Lo?crs: "^^^^^^^^^^
tasted the blessing of poverty, and found t better" tS
aoes; and the one soul he cherished and loved m^ ^Z
h.s own was finding it bitter also. Norman would n„^
complain, but that did not make the gZt 7:^ Z

A TEST OF LOYALTY ,73

Well, what if he were able to take advantage of this
offer? The notion of being indebted to an Ogilvie was in
Itself almost as a draught of poison ; but yet worse was the
notion of that penniless man going to buy biead. All at
once the laird sat up with a jerlc and pulled the bell.

"Will you be good enough to tell Captain MacLean
I should like to speak to him?" he said to the attendant
who answered. But Captain MacLean had gone off with
Mr. Dunbar in his motor (at Miss Ogilvie's suggestion, as
It afterwards appeared), and Ian Veg was sent for. Ian
came hot-foot from an argument with the nigger coachman
m the stable, his tousle of grey hair over his forehead, his
eyes still smouldering.
" Fighting again, Ian Veg ? " asked the laird.
Ian swept back the rebellious hair.
" Nearly, sir," he answered.

"So I judged. One would think that at your time of
life you'd be giving over fighting; but with some of us it's
the older the worse, like the fox's whelp. What were you
meaning to fight about ? "

"Well, sir, that black man in the stable took it upon
him to miscall the Scotch."

"And naturally you wanted to fight him. You grow
older, Ian; I'm not sure you grow any wiser. He's twice
your weight."

"Overfed, sir," said Ian contemptuously. "No wind.
A touch on the stomach, and the rest would be easy."

"They hang white men for killing black, Ian. I didn't
bring you to Dunveagle to knock my host's servants about.
How is it every bantam cock must be fighting ? "
" Natir, I suppose, sir," answered Ian drily.
" There never was a lawbreaker but he had some excuse,"
retorted the laird. " However, it wasn't to discuss your
fighting qualities I sent for you now, Ian. Just see that
the door is tight. That's it. Ian, have you anything

li 5

»74

A SON OF GAD

against me— anything that can be put right while there's
time ? "
Ian gazed a second as if smitten with sudden fear.
"God's sake, sir, what's wrong?" he cried. "You're
not fey. You're not going to die!" for it seemed that
nothing but the approach of death itself could liave
prompted that question.

" Yes, Ian, soon," the laird announced solemnly. " I am
seventy."

"I'm sixty-five," rejoined Ian in a voice of tragedy,
"and I'm not thinking of dying yet."

" It's time for a marj of sixty-five to think of the end,
Ian, for he's only a milestone or so behind the man
of seventy. But it wasn't exactly of that either I wanted
to speak to you. You're sure the door is shut tight?
Thank you. We've been a long time together now, Ian—
you and I— haven't we? "

"A long time, sir," said Ian in a kind of stupefaction.
"Yes, we've stood by each other through a good many
changes. And I was afraid, Ian— for, indeed, I'm no saint
any more than yourself— I was afraid you might have some-
thing against me. Some little grudge, say, in your own
mind."

" Against you, sir ? " cried Ian, as in agony. " When did
I make you think, sir, I had a grudge? "

" Never, Ian. We've struck a bit fire out of each other
whiles, but that's all. It's the simple truth, you've been a
loyal servant to me."

"Don't be speaking that way, sir," pleaded Ian. "As
sure's death, it makes me cold down the back. If you
were to go and die, sir, then it would be the luck of the
old horse for Ian."

"It's quite certain I'm going to die then, Ian," rejoined
the laird softly. "Because the doctor hasn't been bom
yet who can get the upper hand of Death. But I'm glad

A TEST OF LOYALTY 175

to hear you have nothing agaiast me, Ian, neither on the
top of your mind, nor at the bottom, where a good man
sometimes smothers the thoughts he won't speak even to
himself. We have to do that at times for sake of our
friends."

Ian regarded his master with a look of exquisite misery.
" What for did I go to Perth that time with the police-
man ? " he cried. " What for do I hate "

" Hush, hush, Ian," interrupted the laird, his eyes misty
at sight of the red, troubled face of his servant.

"The first place of the MacLeans," said Ian, "is away
in the West, beside the sea that's as bonnie as a lassie's
smile in summer, and worse than a king's rage in winter,
and the place of the Mackems is with the place of the
Macleans. Ian Veg aye minds that /ind wiien a Mac-
Lean of Dunveagle wanted a Mackem from tiie West,
what did Ian do ? Fuich ! what am I saying ? Didn't he
just bundle up and take his Cromak and his wife, ing to
himself that as long as the good Lord God in heaven saw
fit to give him the use of his hands and his bits of legs
they were the laird's ? And if any man says that Ian has
not kept his word, wet day or dry, from that time to this
that man's a son of Beelzebub, and I don't care what's his
name."

" It's all true, Ian," said the laird, his eyes yet a Uttle
mistier, "every word of it, and it's not half the truth,
either about you or ycur wife Janet. I'm more grateful
to you both th.in I can tell."

" There's ]\ ne thing, sir, if you'll let me mention it,"
said Ian shee, .>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

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 <irned Ian, preparing
to go ; and the laird smiling upon him construed his haste
as yet another proof of that devotion which had stood
the tests of forty years.

On his upward way Ian looked in at Criigenard to
make sure that Janet and Maggie were suitably employed,
and then with a humming head went about his mission.

"If only the laird knew," he said to himself; "if only
the laird knew. Gosh, what a ploy I "

He sped on like a boy, nerve and muscle alive with
excitement. He almost feared the treasure would not
be there now that it was wanted. What if it were gone ?
What if within tt"; last twenty-four hours robbers had
discovered it? It .-liue him cold to think of such a
catastrophe, and he sped the faster.

At last the grey, craggy turrets rose on his view, and
next minute the pinnacled top of that rock of gold itself.
The sight of that familiar object almost made his heart
stop ; an instant later it stopped wholly, for there, as Ian
approached, was a human figure plainly, palpably bent
over the crevice that held the gold.

ri:

CHAPTER XXVIIl

A STRANGE CONTRIBUTION TO HIDDEN
TREASURE

A MOMENT Ian stared like one paralysed by shock •
i-i. the next he darted forward silently, as one pounces
on a thief. H.s foot struck against a stone, d a startled
face was lifted quickly to his, the face of ...ick. With

thrrat°^ '^^' ^*" '''""^ "' """ ''°''' ^"PP'"^ ''™ ^^ '^^

"So this is what you're doing when you get me out

of the way," he said in a savage pant. " Maybe I'll learn

Nothing but the devilish nerve and agility of Alick
saved his windpipe. With the slippery litheness of an
eel he twisted from lan's grasp, leaped like a goat to a
point of rock above, and turned, every rebel instinct within
nim aflame.

"If you want Janet not to know you, come after me"
he said, the black eyes and scarlet face adding ferocity
to the words.

A second Ian frowned on the blading imp, then looked
down at the pile of spilled gold glittering in the sun. At
the thought of that treachery he turned upward again.

"Ahck," he cried, his voice like thunder, his eyes
discharging lightnings, "I haf misdooted ye for a good
while now, but I didn't think ye'd do this. It's best to
be plain with me; how much did you take?"

"Take?" repeated Alick, his black eyes flashing more
183

184

A SON OF GAD

wickedly. He tore off a loose fragment of rock. "Ask
that again," he said, poising the missiU.

" You'll put me to the trouble of leathering you," replied
the irate man below.

" I'm thinking not," retorted Alick, " for, look you, the
very first move you make something will happen. You
mind what you told me once, always to get in the first
blow. Anri as to what you are saying, do you think it
is taking the laird's money Id be, Ian Veg? Do you
think I go about with tarry fingers ? "

" One that's thick with the Ogilvies would do anything,
I'm thinking," rejoined Ian.

" Say that again ! " cried Alick, poising his fragment of
rock afresh.

"Oh, ay," responded Ian contemptuously; "throw
away, throw away. For all that I've done for ye, Alick
Ruah, nothing would please you better than to dance
the Highland Fling on my corp."

" Don't be setting your bonnet so high, Ian Veg," was
the reply. " Maybe I wouldn't think it worth my while.
But what I'm waiting for the now is just you to say again
what you said about me and the Ogilvies."

Now Ian understood Alick from the crown of his rebel-
lious head to the sole of his defiant foot, and, looking up,
had a pungent sense of the futility of argument at long
range ; also of the folly of attempting to chase a wild cat
among rocks, a wild cat, too, with all its passions of resent-
ment and revenge ablaze.

He looked again at the spilled gold, a ruddy heap in a
grey, Hchened dent of the rock, and noted that the inner
bag, the laird's particular treasure, lay with its mouth open.
That worked upon him to a fresh access of fury, but fury
was lost on the mocking imp above, and presently he fell
back on the methods of diplomacy.

" If you come down, Alick, and tell me what brought

iilS

A STRANGE CONTRIBUTION ,85

you here and what you were doing," he said, "111 promise
not to lay hands on you."

Making his footing securer, Alick bent a concentrated
gaze on the man beneath. He owned to himself that he
had never caught Ian in a lie; indeed he was disposed to
thmk that the ab.hty to lie with any degree of craft was not
among Ian s resources, natural or acquired

"Say this, then," he replied : "'If I try to touch you may
God stnke me dead'"; and when Ian had complied!
Very well; now, ,f you'll put down that cudgel, I'll pu
down this stone." ^

That matter having also been arranged to his satisfaction,
Alick descended.

.n7T "^!",''- ^ ^^"^ ^^^ "'^""S'" he said, facing Ian
squarely. "Listen, and I'll tell you how I did it. But
hrst you must promise not to breathe p. word to anybody
for .ts a secret, and I had to swear, too. If you hadn't
come on me you wouldn't know."

"Tell me, Alick," Ian said impatiently, on taking the
necessary pledge; and thereupon Alick told a tale which
made Ian gape. To begin with, Mr. Mackem learned that,
^unsuspected Alick had got on confidential terms with
See? r T' ""^'^ conversations had taken place
i 1 J"' !°"f''"^ '"^ '^'^-^'^ ^'f-"' -"d that,

extranM M '°'"' ^''^ ''"^°" "^ "^^ °""' '^e lady wa
extraordinarily sympathetic.

ticl'l/y"" ^ ^°^^^ '° '''"'' ^°"' '^"'''•" ^™ h'^ke in scep-

DuS ""''' ^°" '^''^"''' ">^' 'he captain ind Mr.
Dunbar were got out of the way to-day, that Miss Dunbar
w^ mostly with Mrs. Ogilvie, and that Miss Ogilvie wL
very busy by herself, and in a dreadful hurry too. ' Alick^

quick, quick, and for your life not to let anybody know, not

i86

A SON OF GAD

your dearest friend. Who's your dearest friend, Alick?'
says she. ' Ian Veg, mem,' says I."

" You said that ? " cried Ian, with a thrill of pleasure and
remorse.

" I said, ' Ian Veg's my dearest friend,' " continued
Alick.

" ' Well, you'll not tell this, even to him,' she says ; ' pro-
mise,' says she. I promised, and th ;n she said, ' If you
break your word I'll never trust you or be friends with you
again.' But, Ian, you found out without telling."

Ian nodded ; Alick weiit on.

" She gave me a purse just bulging with gold. ' There,'
says she, ' you're to go and put that in the little bag that
the laird never touches ' (for I told her about it, but not
where it is), 'and here's a little something for your
trouble.' She was speaking fast and looking round as if
afraid of somebody listening. The blood was coming and
going in her face too, and her breast was jumping and
dancing. 'Now you'll be quick, Alick,' she said, 'and
take great care not to let anybody see you, for it would
never do to be found out.' "

"And you put it in there?" said Ian, drawing a long
breath.

" I was putting it there when you came," was the answer.

Ian cast a look at the gold, and a choking fury seized
him. His impulse was to pick out Connie's gold piece by
piece, and fling it to the winds.

"The dirty dirt," he cried furiously. "Thenk-ee for
telling me, Alick. You did it for the best. But you're
surely mad. Their trash can't stop here ; there would be
no luck with it."

" You mind what you and me once agreed about getting
money for the laird ? " Alick replied. " At first I was for
refusing point-blank, though Miss Ogilvie was kind and
nice about it."

A STRANGE CONTRIBUTION ,87

"Kind and nice!" repeated Ian in mingled scorn and
ange " Alick, I think the sooner you and me pairts the
bette '

"Sc idy a bit," cried Alick. " Is there no way of using
folk, dye thmk, but knocking their noses off? The other
day I was reading in the paper about a battle somewhere,
and one side took guns from the other side, and then
turned them on the side that lost them. It was that that
put thoughts into my head."

A great light, a sudden radiance overspread lan's face.

" Body and soul of me ! Alick," he cried, " I'm not fit to
breathe the same air as you. Man, that's grand. I take
back eve-ything I said. Here's my hand. Man, yer a
deep, wicked, cunning, wee tevil. Turning an enemy's
guns on themselves ! Fuich ! as sure's death your head is
worth ten thoosand of mines, to take that gold that we
might fight them that gave it."

"Just that," replied Alick, his heart beating a uttoo
of jubilation.

Ian stooped and began to shovel the gold from hand
to hand with the doting avarice of a miser; then piece by
piece he counted it.

" Fifty-two ! " he cried breathlessly.

"Yes," said Alick, "fifty from Miss Ogilvie and the two
she gave me for myself."

^^ '• Your two ? " responded Ian, every nerve in him dancing.
' You mean to tell me you put yours in, too ? I haf been
a great big ass this day. If ye think there'll be any satees-
faction m the thing, take that Cromak to me. For it iss
just the God's own tnith, Alick Ruah, yer wonderful
cliver."

"You're sorry for thinking I would break my word and
Uke the laird's money?" said Alick, whose dearest testi-
momal was still the good word of his mentor, Ian Veu
Mackem.

1 88 A SON OF GAD

" Sorry ? " echoed Ian. '< That iss not it at all. I'm fair
ashamed to look you in the face. But, man, Alick, I'm
glad, too; oh, yes, gladder than if I wass getting fou at
your wedding. For look you, A'l'ck, there's things in you
the spoon didn't put in. Turning their own guns on them.
Fifty-two gold sovereigns— a pound note for every week in
the year— from the Ogilvies to fight the Ogilvies. I'll
never miscall ye again. Is there any chance of getting
more, d'ye think ? "
"Maybe," replied Alick, "if a body was to try hard."
" Alick, cross your hands on mines," said Ian, holding
out his own. "There now, you and me's entered into
a covenant as firm as scriptur can make it, and it's this :
that we'll bleed the Ogilvies every chance. That's our
business with them from this day on. And, mind you,
if one of us breaks the covenant, plagues and boils and
things will come on him just as the Bible says. Man," he
cried, " if you and me was to get bac!: Dunveagle ! Think
of that. Alick, bleed them, and the minute you forget
your covenant, may the tevil catch you by the hind leg."

CHAPTER XXIX

A WOODLAND EXPLORATION

TT E began to gather up the contemned gold, recounting
X 1 It in a kind of vengeful glee, as cf one who had
found means of feeding fat a very bitter grudge. Then he
opened the bag which held the laird's especial treasure,
drew forth a letter superscril.d in a thin, tremulous
woman s hand, put in the gold which was to turn like a
curse against the givers, reverently replaced the letter, tied
^e bag securely, and replaced it deep down in the crevice
That done, he took the whole of his master's savings
(pathetically increased as we have seen), explaining that the
money was urgently needed at the castle for purposes to be
stated later on; and having craftily as bandits covered all
marks of disturbance, the pair descended swiftly. For Ian
had already tarried too long, and Alick was impatient to
report to Connie. Jerking out comments and opinions on
the pro- jects which a conniving Providence was opening
out, they tore down through the lyrian purple of the early
August heather, and plunged into the green coolness of the
Uunveagle woods, wiping their streaming faces. Half-way
down they paused at the sound of voices, and a minute
^ter came on the captain with Miss Ogilvie and Miss
Uunbar, gathering wild flowers, in a little dingle by the
brookside. At sight of her messenger Connie put a finger

S"on °" *"" "^'" """^ '^^ ^^°' '^°'""S ">"' '=^P'''
The expedition into the woodlands was unplanned and
unexpected. On returning, Jeff was busy with his motor
189

190

A SON OF GAD

Mr. Linnie had been politely but effectually dismissed by
Kitty, and the ladies either in weariness or coquetry had
turned to Norman for entertainment. He related bits of
the Iliad of Dunveagle, and Kitty was stirred to an un-
wonted interest. She asked many questions, and the end
was that the captain offered to conduct her to some of the
more romantic spots. Kitty beamed her thanks, saying
she was ready.

Now Connie had other business on hand, but at that
proposal she must needs cry out that she too would make
one of the party, and the trio started into the leafy wilds,
which Norman knew so well, and, alas I loved so fondly.

Connie walked thinking of many things, but especially
of the misfortunes of the house of MacLean. She was
infinitely glad to be mistress of Dunveagle, but her heart
smote her at the thought that she reigned at the cost of
another's happiness. Sometimes in communing with her-
self, she wondered what would become of the estate if one
day she should return, as expected, to take her place as
a leader of fashion in New York. A man of the world,
especially an American man of the world, to whom the
excitements of the city were as :he breath of life, would
never consent to live a cloistered existence in Dunveagle.
Not Eden itself would tempt him from the roar and dazzle
of the glittering multitude, and she vaguely understood the
law that where the man is there the woman must be also.
Yes, she supposed that under another name she would go
back to New York and rejoin the elect, who make social
laws for the Republic, and outdo the splendour of princes.
What would become of Dunveagle th-n? She had
thoughts on the subject, haunting thoughts that she durst
not frame too clearly even to herself.

During the last few weeks her interest in this Dunveagle
problem had been quickened and deepened ■' • a way that
none suspected, that she hardly herself understood. Hence

A WOODLAND EXPLORATION ,„

in this ramble through the woods, though she was the soul

as tVTrifthlt'K^^ '"' '^"^^ '"™^''^'' P-°f^ ^'-g
never in r ^ "'^ ^' P*'"" '° ^'^ agreeable. And

never m Conn.e's eyes had she seemed so dangerous^
bewuchmg not merely in looks and manner, buf in the
point and vivacity of her conversation

The American girl, a fastidious or crusty European will
tell you, ,s voluble ,o excess. Kitty, like a good Ameri cl'
earned her nationality into everythLg, sacred andl uTar'
She travelled quickly, read quickly, thought quickly. d

qu-okly and on all that a woman of the world oLght to
know, her knowledge was encyclopedic. To^ay sh"
seemed brighter, wittier, more discursive than C^l htd
ever seen her. and there could be no doubt about t she
w^drawmg the captain out of his melancholy rebate '

The appearance of Ian and Alick intensified the turmoil
m Connie's breast, s, that it needed all her tact to keep
a semblance of self-possession. She burned to follow and
question Alick, but that being impossible, she tZdt

scarcely heard, and to her own dismay proved that on
tiymg occasions she might be the reverse of coo She

the abruptness of her manner the captain was certain that
from ome inexplicable cause he had offended agahf

solvfd fJthrf'r'""''' "'''•" "^ ''''' '° •>--"•' '-"d -

ti,„, u. ^ asKing If Connie were well " I

iZtZ '°°'^' ^'^ ^"'^ ^'''-'^^^'' '^-^' Miss

vol' ?»*"' ""''^ \'^^<'*^''e, dear," Connie answered. " Will
you excuse me if I go to my own room just for a little?"

„L ■

CHAPTER XXX

Tl'

,jHlii

A SUM IN ARITHMETIC

IAN delivered his gold in such an elation of spirits as
he had not enjoyed for twenty years. To have men-
tioned Nemesis would be meaningless, for Ian was no
Grecian ; but he had Hebrew notions of vengeance, and
could lay a ready finger on a score of passages in the Bible
that suited his case like a prescription. The learned speak
of retributive justice. Ian knew nothing of fine names,
but he had a perfect appreciation of the prophet's prayer,
" Rid me of mine enemies ; revenge me of my persecutors."

The Bible being universal, gives to each searcher pre-
cisely what he seeks, good or evil. Ian passed backward
lightly over the New Testament, v.ith its doctrines of meek-
ness and forgiveness; but he dwelt with a fierce, whole-
hearted delight on the implacable vengeance of the Old,
and could quote texts with more than devotional zeal.

"The minister tells us," said Ian, "we can't go far wrong
if w . keep to the Bible. I'm content. Listen to this—

" And after he had slain Sihon, the king of the Amorites,
he spoke; that's your meek Moses for ye. Ye'U observe his
plan. First he makes sure of killing his man, and speaks
afterwards.

" And it came to pass when he began to reign, as soon as
he sat on his throne, that he slew all the house of Baasha.
Not one left to complain, ye see, or spread false reports.

"And Jehu said to the captain of the guard, go in and
slay them, and let none escape. Not a mother's son of them.
'9»

A SUM IN ARITHMETIC ,93

2l!!"^'Z' '"•' """ "''^ "^"'^'^ ""hout going to
n<s ix)w.e-kmfe, as ye might say, watched his chance and
gave It to the other fellow under the fifth rib r n n
speaking, that settled all accounts." ""'"''

f, I''^"f u'"' P*'"'°" °f vengeance surged deep in Ian as
he handed the gold to his master. The Ogilvie 'had come
from Amenca wuh pipes playing a triumphal qufck-^eo
they would return to the wail of a c .ronach ' "^ '

Well, Ian," said the laird, taking the bag with an ea<rer
nervous hand, " is everything right ? " ^ '

•'Everything iss right, sir," Ian answered confidently.

You were longer than I expected."
'■You know, sir, I had to be awful careful "
True, true," admitted the laird. " BettPr h„ .i«„ j
sure than hasty and found out. We mu keep tis'to
our^dves. absolutely. The other bag is safe, Ia„T» " '°
Quite safe, s.r," Ian assured him. At the same tim.
he was ^ying in his heart, "If only you knel ifTn/™
knew. But .fs not good for a man to know everything ••
Ian," sa.d the laird, drawing in the money, " h s must

."a mS not Z ^'7.7 '"'"^^ ''^'"^^" '"^" -"^ man
tnat must not be bawled from the house-top. I'm obliged

nave just one thmg more to ask."
"Yes, sir?" said Ian interrogatively
■'God made us all what we are, Ian," rejoined the laird

'- apple is not to blame. When

I vex you, Ian,

"94

A SON OF GAD

11'''

thirk of that. Just say quietly to yourself, ' The apple's a
bit tart, but it's not to blame ; it was made that way.' You
follow me ? Likely I'll say things to you I shouldn't say,
cross, unkind things, for indeed, Ian, between you and me,
vows and resolutions to be good don't help much. But
you'll understar, i and never mind, for after this we must be
to each other as lock and key."

" It has always been the plan of Ian Veg, sir, and he iss
too old to change now. But though he iss old he expects
things yet, and it iss in his mind this day that the trash will
be away out of this yet.''

The laird looked at him very hard.

" When you and I are away too, Ian," he responded.

" I never heard that dead men take any pleasure in what
goes on about them," said Ian meaningly. " Something tells
me I'll dance the Highland Fling in Dunveagle yet."

The laird smiled, but lan's face darkened.

" Yes, sir, and another kind of reel too that some folk
little think of "

" Ian, Ian," cried the laird, starting to find his own vague
thoughts shaped by another, " we must not talk like that.
For you and me mum's the word. We know what we
know, and for the present let that be enough. And now-
will you see if Norman's about, and say I want a word with
him? Another time we'll talk more."

Though he had much to say, or rather to hint darkly, Ian
was nevertheless glad to be released, because his feelings
had more than once during the interview threatened to
break bounds. "Turn their own guns against them," he
kept repeating in his mind. Brain had never devised a
better, subtler, deadlier, more inspiring method. Alick was
beyond doubt a clever limb of Satan.

Ten minutes later Norman closed the door of his father's
room from the inside.

"You'll be surprised I've sent for you again," the laird

A SUM IN ARITHMETIC

said, smiling up at him " n,,. .• T ''^

thinking of'hings and if H'^IT^^ "^ '"'' ' "^^^ '^-
in the game Mr 0«lvl J V I ^^"'^ '° "'''•= » hand
somet^ for theX " and r'"' J'"; ''«""^''=- ""•^'^
toward Norman wkh * """"■■•* """ '^« "^ "'"""V

thing whichTa gr i worXT "^T f "''' " '''''^-^ '
and no speeches, pleaj"^ '^ ^"'"-" " "«" "-y h-"^,.

chS^oitLi'^L^tJ^^''^^^^^^^^^^ "^'<^ it. heard .he
ment. '' " '^"""- ""^ «><:« tense with amaze-

"But this is impossible, father." he returned.
Why impossible ? " asked the lairH .< i , ■

" But after all. what Mr O J. ■ .'■ ^'" ' " ^^"^ ' "
tion." Nonnan 'piiSsS" "f^^/''-- » -- specula-
lost." ^ ""• "^"^ ^"ety penny may be

do^edli!'" '""' P''^'^"" '■'■' '"'"^•" -joined the laird

of old. he had h^ wiW eStT 'i' '''' "''^ ^''^'<»
turn of the wheel of frrSna "^''" °^ ^ '''^'"•>"=

f ^tziijs::?;— r^--s

broken on the rrkr^ot ^en I'r'' "^ -"'^ °^ ^
tragedy had the sense of tL ''^'^ """^^ °^ his

- acufe as it time „„? HeTnT °' '"°"'^^ '-^"
himself, then for hiTpoSnleS 3rSd T'''^ "°' '"
came, even the risky chance of st^k 7\ "" '"' '^'"'^
he leaped at it as leaps rte conrfr J ."""^^ 'P"="'^"°"'
^d life. Whafca^ a ml T ""^ P"''°"^^ f°' "herty

'hecynic. st;ei"e:h"To rbor:frb^'''"'^'" ""'

oHiis flesh more- and rwrhr u r , " '^"^ ^"^ ^esh

Of God Who m^; flTzts.::^: ''- '-''-'''^

■ 96

A SON OF GAD

The laird told himself that he was risking next to nothing —
if it were lost let it go ; he had survived heavier losses, and
there would still remain the precious treasure which nu
finger <''' his had touched, or would touch. That should
not be ' vd ; but all else would cheerfully be staked. He
was even willing to be under an obligation to Duncan
Ogilvie, and self-sacrifice could not go beyond that. So he
said with all the emphasis of his masterful nature, " It is
my pleasure."

But in deciding this he had omitted to take one small
but vital circumstance into account, to wit, that in arguing
with Norman he was arguing with Alan Maclean, re-endowed
with all the force and independence of youth, plus something
that had never been Alan's. Norman was touched, but he
was also obdurate. While he had a head to plan and two
hands to execute, not a fraction of his father's scant supply
would he touch. So with brief, broken thanks and ex-
pressions of gratitude, for he was not at all sure of himself,
he left abruptly.

For the space of a minute the laird gazed hard at the
closed door; then his eyes rested on the bag of money,
procured with so much difficulty, refused so emphatically.
He was both glad and angry, touched by filial love, provoked
by filial disobedience. His face shone with a mingled
radiance of storm and sunshine ; then, sudden as the caprice
of an April day, his expression changed to one of set
determination, and he rang the bell. He wished to know

Mr. Ogilvie were engaged, and if not whether he could
spare a moment for business. Glad to serve his guest,
Mr. Ogilvie at once complied with the summons.

" You have been good enough to make a certain proposal
to my son," the kird said, explaining his business without
circumlocution. " We've talked the matter over, and there's
a mite," pushing the bag towards his host. " It will be a
iavour to me, Mr. Ogilvie, if you take charge of it, for

A SUM IN ARITHMETIC ,gy

.wlfin^'r "" °IV!^ '■" ""=" '»''"8.. and Ncrnun', an
S? ° ''"" "^ "'"' ""= '•''"8 » done on hi.

"hlo commission could give me greater pleasure." Mr

■• Buil? • ■" ""' '""■■ '° " P"""'' °' '*°'" «« 'h«-- reply.

MVe-d h ,"! ™""' ""'^ ''" ""^ ''"°* « y°"' convenience.-'
Wed better count now," said the man of busines,.

of th?kinH°*n '"""u'""''- "I"d-'=''.youni do nothing

i a i^ J t '""u"""" '""^ ''"" y" ""h 'he pounds!

and Q.uDt you about the sixpences ? You'll count ^when

you have nothing better to do, and not a minut" blfore " "

And ,v.th an easy air of affluence he thrust the bag from

S ofzxtir '^""'^ '-' ^-' '^=" ^' - -

whiyh'?, '^'' y^^' ^'^' ""^ '"^''"'•'^ ■^"'""ber. Connie,
who had somehow scented the visit. lay cunningi; in , Jt
Kitty innocently bearing her company. Her eyes onened

whicfhalf '^' "' '■'' ' '^'^'-^^^ °f 'h^ r.h
wh.ch happily passed unnoticed, she asked what it con-

"Only a little investment of Captain MacLean's," her
f ther answered. "By the way, if Kitty and yoursef are

.' the'lt'-^'.°"""''"'^°""'"'°^'"^- ^'- MacLean,who
>s the captam s agent, ,s not sure of the amount "

shol""L'°°^- 't' ^' """"'"8 ^^' ^'' perturbation
should betray usr'f. and the girls hastened to her own
particular room. There in a singular palpitation she empl^
he contents on the table. These consisted of gold sH c^

lilituT"; ""' ''""-" '''"''-"°"^'= ""-P'-d into h
similitude of waste paper.

■Myl- Ki«, cHed. "Mr. H„L«„-, b.„k do., p., i„

I, I

198 A SON OF GAD

Connie did not answer. "Let's count," she said
instead.

First they counted the gold, marking the amount on the
back of an old envelope; then in the same manner the
silver, the copper, and the bank-notes.

"Add it up. Kit," said Connie, her own mental state
being untrustworthy.

Kitty settled as to a vexing problem in the higher
mathematics.

"My!" she cried, struggling helplessly between the
farthings and the pence, " how John Bull does muddle up
things ! If he don't make love better than he figures, how
does he ever get to the point ? This is worse than awful.
It's easy enough when you've only to add and tick off two
by our system. Let me see, you divide by twenty, twelve,
and four, don't you ? "

" I think," answered Connie, "you divide by four, f-'ve,
and twenty. You see, four shillings one dollar, five dollars
one pound sterling, not taking the eccentricities of exchange
into account."

"That don't help much so far's I can see," rejoined
Kitty, her brows knit in desperation.

"Youll give yourself wrinkles if you pucker your face
like that, dear," Connie commented.

"Enough to give anyone wrinkles," retorted Kitty.
" Here are three single farthings and four separate halfpence.
What do you make of that ? "

Connie leashed her emotions and stooped to arithmetic.
" Four twos are eight and three are eleven," she answered
after a profound effort.

"How do you get that?" inquired Kitty, who usually
calculated in round figures and disdained anything meaner
than a dollar.

" You've got four halfpence or ha'pennies, haven't you ?
That's eight quarters."

A SUM IN ARITHMETIC ,99

" Oh, no, it isn't," cried Kitty. " Eight quarters are two
dollars."

We're not talking of twenty-five-cent pieces," returned
Connie. "Four ha'pennies make eight quarters or farthings,
and three more quarters make eleven."

" Oh, do they ? Well, then, now you've got your eleven,
how are you to divide it by twenty? How many pounds
sterlmg m eleven farthings? Con, it don't seem right
somehow."

" Hardly, dear," Connie owned.

They took a piece of fresh paper, and by dint of various
experiments in compound addition, subtraction, and division
finally arrived at a result, which, with some hesitation, they
accepted as correct. Connie studied the figures with an
mfinitepity. Poor laird ! Poor Captain MacLean !

''Kitty," she said all at once, "get a pen and ink, and
we 11 mark it down."

But no pen was in the room, Mrs. Ogilvie having
evidently carried ofi" the last, and Kitty went in search
of one. As soon as she was gone Connie rose, stepped
softly to the door, and glanced out; then turning swiftly,
she opened a cabinet, drew out a drawer, lifted a purse
of gold, and counting hurriedly, put a handful with the
laird's store. When Kitty returned she was gazing out
of the window.

"Thank you, dear," she said, turning graciously, and
wrote down a figure which Kitty did not see.

CHAPTER XXXI

! 1] ■ !

GROUSE SHOOTING, WITH SOME HINTS
ON RICHES

THE day of all days in the year to the Highlands
again came round — the day on which sporting
millionaires are proud to go forth arrayed as ghillies, for
which legislators cease their babbling and leave the nation
to its fate, which sees the rampant cockney sniffing among
the moors. A fortnight the railways from the south had
kept overdriven traffic superintendents in one long night-
mare ; a week they had been in a virulent congestion. At
the London termini facing north mobs of lackeys, sweat-
ing, blasphemous porters, distracted inspectors and guards
dodged violently among piled-up barrows and stacks of gun
cases— all for the sake of " kittling the muir fowls' tails."

The twelfth, as it chanced, fell on a Monday, and all
Sunday the Highlands lay in a hushed expectancy. Every-
body was aware of an electric brooding in the air. The
shepherd felt it as he leaned on his staff, looking up purple
mountain sides ; the gamekeeper was acutely conscious
of it as he made the final round of his kennels ; it affected
the preacher as he thundered from the pulpit to strangers
who wondered, when they gave the discourse any attention
at all, if he could possibly mean what he said. The day
before city journalists had discussed, with the miraculous
omniscience of the Press, the " prospects of the twelfth " as
a question more vitally important than wars and parlia-
ments; and from the Pass of Birnam to John o' Groat's

200

GROUSE SHOOTING ,oi

men and women talked grouse, grouse, and nothing but
grouse. °

The Dunveagle party, having the fever smartly, was out
almost wuh the sun. It included besides the host an
English railway magnate, a London financier of inter-
national relations, the Hon. Job Shilbeck and Mr. Jeff

?2 ' J^f ^^' ^^P^«'''^"""S 'he greatest of republics.
Captain MacLean and Mr. Rollo Linnie. The elder Linnie
had promised to take a gun (his own moor being let for
sake of the £ s. d.), but was prevented by an attack
of the aristocratic disease especially eulogised by Lord
Chesterfield. The doctor would have called it rheumatism,
but Mr. Linnie insisted on suppressed gout, and suppressed
gout ,t was, since the man of science depending on fads
and vanities cannot afford to be headstrong

The enthusiasm infected both sexes, old and young.
Not for the first time in her life Connie wished hersjf

ITV^'u ""^^^ ^° "' '""" ^^' ^"d Kilty too was
nclmed to be envious over the privileges of a barbarous

asLfh'" ^^°f'^'^'^ heart beat a little higher and
fas^r than usual, for whatever moralists may say, a man
finds first experience of the sport of nobles on his own
moor exceedingly sweet.

Mr Shilbeck alone smoked and tramped without an
extra throb of the pulse, save what came of bodily exertion
He had never before set foot on a grouse moor, and
seemed indifferent whether he ever set foot on one again
He got into knickerbockers and gaiters purely as a con-
cession to the foolishness of fashion, expecting little, and
getting according to expectation. He was neither dis-
appointed nor envious of those who had better luck.

.eni. ,°",' 't"" '° ^" *' ''*"S °^ '^' 'hing," he remarked
genially to his attendant ghillie, when he had missed his
bird for the twentieth time in succession. "Don't seem
to hit em even by chance." And took the failure so little

I !

20J A SON OF GAD

to heart that next minute he was working an abstruse
calculation on his shirt cuff, ne.er so much as glancing
up when a covey whirred beside him. The ghillie reported
that assuredly he had a bee in his bonnet, since only a
man with a fearful buzzing in the upper storey could scrape
with a pencil on clean shirt linen while the grouse were
rising all about him.

Three days Mr. Shilbeck held out in stolid toleration of
the fatigue of incessant tramping and the disappointment
of futile shooting. On the fourth day near the time of
luncheon he threw himself on a bank of brilliant bell-
heather, and looked half-defiantly, half- pityingly at his
misguided friends, blazing away right and left. Mr. Linnie,
who chanced to h» near, sat with him out of sympathy.

" Say," remarked Mr. Shilbeck, mopping a hot forehead,
"I'm beginnin' to feel as if I had just enough of this
kind of foolin'. Reckon it ain't just what it's 'sposed to be."

" There may be better things if one only knew them,"
returned Mr. Linnie.

" I should smile," rejoined Mr. Shilbeck enigmatically.

" Money-making, for instance," suggested Rollo, choosing
that subject as one Hkely to be agreeable to 'is companion
and not objectionable to himself.

Slowly and with the fine care of a connoisseur Mr.
Shilbeck bit the end off a cigar.

" That's one of 'em," he said. " Anyway, it's a rational
employment for human beings. I don't call it rational
to go tramping the life out of yourself up "'Uls and across
bogs after darned things ye can't hit anyway. I think
I'll vamoose."

The word being new to Mr. Linnie, his eyes opened for
enlightenment.

"I'll go back to Noo York," explained Mr. Shilbeck,
" and take a turn to Washin'ton to put the screw on one
or two Congressmen, just to let 'em I^now I'm alive. Make

SOME HINTS ON RICHES 203

a few dollars, you understand. It's the kind of sport that
smts my constitootion. Yes, sir."

He wiped his mouth, struck a match, and began to
smoke.

"It's the great national sport in America, isn't it?"
Kollo asked.

" Making dollars ? " responded Shilbeck blandly. " Yes
sir, the people of the U-nited States believe in dollars.'
JJi.irs made 'em; dollars keep 'em goin'. George
V.ashmton gave the U-nited States a start; smart man
t^eorge AVashin'ton, though he died poor, which is con-
trary to the American spirit. No chance to make his pile,
ye see, bem' most of his time lickin' the British, and he
turned 'em out, you bet."
''Certainly he managed that," Rollo admitted.
"Yes, sir, he turned 'em out," repeated Job, "though
you needn't be takin' on 'bout it now. That gave the
country a start, and the people of the U-nited States have
gone on takm' advantage of that fact ever since. Already
they've made themselves the richest nation on earth, and
they re only beginnin', just beginnin' proper. In the future,
sir, continued Mr. Shilbeck prophetically, "the stars and
stnpes and the American eagle will be the universal
emblem of wealth. Mark me, the U-nited States are
stretchm' their arms abroad fc a scoop that'll make the
poky nations of Europe sit up, and Asia wonder if the
world's bust."
He stroked his goatee complacently.
"Yes, sir, the American bird is spren.din' its wings, and
no man can say where it won't light; no, sir, not if he was
the hneal descendant of the whole blessed tribe of prophets
A few weeks ago, at a London dinner party, I counted seven
American millionaires with their confidential agents. You
don t fancy they crossed the Atlantic for their health?
1 hty re over here spyin' out the land like Jacob."

204

A SON OF GAD

'■Moses, I think," put in Mr. Linnie modestly.
"Well, we ain't goin' to quarrel 'bout names," responded
Job. It s some time since I looked up my history books,
but maybe you're right. That don't matter. The poin.
IS that those seven millionaires are over here on a little
prospectm expedition; yes, sir, as I said, spyin' out the
land and they're goin' to possess it, too, sure's the Israelites
grabbed Canaan. Up to the present time the high-flyin'
Bntisher, when he found himself stone-broke, has been in
the habit of importin' American wives, for the sake of the
capital attached. The thing took the fancy of our girls
because it was thought toney to have a handle to your
name, and sail in before kings and such, and a good deal
of capital has left the U-nited States in that way. But it's
beginnin' to come over here in other ways, and for other
purposes than to keep dead-broke lords goin' the rig
You re young, Mr. Linnie," continued Mr. Shilbeck ex-
pansively, "and long before you need trouble buyin'
lotions to prevent baldness and grey hair, you'll find
Amurican capital controUin' all your best-payin' industries ;
Amuncan electric cars carryin'your people; Amurican ships
carrym your goods; Amurican factories hummin' in your
towns; Amurican hotels and restirants at your street
comers ; Amurican brains in your best offices. We've been
feedin' ye for a considerable while, and now we're makin'
arrangements for running the whole show. Once on a
time the U-nited States were a colony of England, now
iinglands becomin' a colony of the U-nited States. The
ddest child's comin' back to make things hum. Men like
Ogilvie there are returnin' to stir up your British fossils,
and they re goin' to succeed, too, and don't you forget it "

"Mr Ogilvie," said Rollo, "is one of America's most
successful men, isn't he ? "

" If you get his autograph in the right place on a cheque
on the First National Bank of the Republic for twenty

SOME HINTS ON RICHES ,05

million dollars, you may accept it as good," answered Mr.
Shilbeck.

Mr. Rollo Linnie blinked as if suddenly dazzled
"And Mr. Dunbar?" he asked, in a tremor of excite-
ment.

"You mean Jeff's old man? Likewise good for the
amount stated, or any other to which he puts his name,"
was the reply.

Rollo drew a long breath under the quizzical gaze of Job.

But there's something of a difference between 'em,"

Mr. Shilbeck explained, "a pretty considerable difference

and Its this-one has only a daughter, t'other has a son

and a daughter."

"I don't quite understand," said Rollo, lighting a cigar-
ette to hide a momentary confusion.

"No?" returned Job meaningly. "Well, put it in this
way. Spose I was young and tol'rably good lookin', and
wanted a soft snap, what in this country you'd perhaps call
formm family ties on the dowry principle, I'd figure it out
to myself like this-' Dunbar, got a son and daughter,
therefore divides his pile in two; Ogilvie, daughter only
and no son, disposes of his in one lot'; and havin' figured
>t out, I reckon, I'd lay my accounts and go in bald-
headed."

''Go in to win, I suppose?" remarked Mr. Linnie, with
a fluttenng sensation in the breast.

"Exactly so," replied Job. "Go in to win; and sup-
posm It was just a little dicker in dollars I was after-
affection bein' counted to come in later on, you understand
-Id tackle the undivided pile first, puttin' on my best
drawm-room manner. I'd be mighty careful about that, for
It s worth a big start in the kind of handicap we're speakin'
of. You see, it's mostly a matter of looks with a girl, and
>f the outside of a man's all right and slick, the rest don't
count. She can't have a look at the inside of his head to

206

A SON OF GAD

see what's there, and she don't know anything about moral
qualities. So she just takes him as he stands, like an
article bought at auction. Well, I'd lay my accounts for
number one; but that failin' I'd go for number two, which
in this t,^se would be good enough fur any or'nary man,
I reckon."

"That's a -ery mercenary view of the thing," Rollo
commented, his tj-es glittering with interest.

" I was takin' it ts a business transaction," returned Mr.
Shilbcck. " Of cou,-se, if you want flummery you can have
it, though I don't take mjch stock in that kind of thing
myself. I ain't denyin' that to trot a girl round, proud
to show your friends she's good-lookin', is an additional
satisfaction ; but take you my word for it, it's the amount
attached that's in most people's minds, not the girl's looks."
"But not everyone can go in as you say, Mr. Shilbeck,
with a chance of winning," said Rollo.

" That's so, of course," Job owned reflectively. " I reckon
girls are the most curious works of nature. It's impossible
to say when you have 'em, that's a fact. Skittish ain't the
word for 'em. An idea gets into a girl's head, and if it
pleases her all the surgery in the U-nited States won't
extract it. There's a rhyme 1 came across somewhere
'bout convincin" a woman against her will, she'll hold the
same opinion still, or words to that efiect. Po'try scores
there. Let me tell you something. A friend of mine in
Noo York had a daughter that he was just dead gone on,
handsome, best of education, European travel, and all the
rest— just a beauty. Well, he was all his spare time plan-
mng her future and the fine man she'd marry— none of yer
common or'nary hoppers 'bout town, but a genoowine
article of the right sort. Well, when he was plannin' all
this, what does she go and do? Why, sir, she goes and
gets religion— gets it pretty bad too."

Mr. Shilbeck spoke as if religion were an infectious

SOME HINTS ON RICHES ,07

disease, to be caught like whooping-cough or the measles.
Yes, pretty bad," he repeated. "Next thing she was
teachin Sunday-school and layiri' off 'bout bein' good aid
loving our neighbour as ourselves, and all that. Next step
was to take up with the passon that ran the Sunday-school
ex-dry-goods clerk that got religion kind of sudden too.
Imagine a bear rampin' around with a sore head ; that was
her father. Was it any good ? No, sir. She married her
passon, and after a while stopped layin' off 'bout lovin* our
neighbours. 'Pears she wouldn't have anybody lovin' the
passon but herself. Then the old man dies, and the
passon, makin' out he'd got a good thing, shut up shop,
and went in for yachts and racehorses. By-and-by he
crosses to this side and lives like a prince, supported by his
wife, European style. No," added Mr. Shilbeck oracularly
ye never can tell what a girl will do, nor what she'll fancy'
She's as hard to pin to one leadin' idea as a candidate for
the presidency."

Hi!, eyes wandered over the moorland to his fellow-
sportsmen. Norman had just brought down a brace, a
circumsunce which attracted Mr. Shilbeck's attention.

"Now there's Captain MacLean," he went on, pursuing
his own train of thought. " Ain't got a cent, I believe, bat
hes got a way with him, and he's got tone. I 'low the
Bntish army gives tone, and in fact," affirmed Mr. Shilbeck,
"he's just the sort of man for a girl to go and fall in love
with. If I was Jeff I'd see a certain contract completed
with just as little delay as possible."

"Jeff!" repeated Rollo, wincing in spite of himself; "is
he— has he aspirations then ? "

" Aspirations ! " echoed Mr. Shilbeck. " Come with the
engagement-ring in his pocket ; showed it to me one day—
half-hoop of diamonds in the best Tiffany style, just beauti-
ful. Oh, Jeff ain't got any flies on him when it comes to
joolery, and his old man's 'bout as cute as they make 'em.

308

A SON OF GAD

Jeff's to arrange a sort of family combine, you understand.
There ain't any secret about it. Noo York expecU it, and
I don't see why Noo York should be disappointed. All
the same, if I was Jeff I'd be lookin' to the clevis-bolt.
Yes, sir, I'd make that half-hoop of diamonds toe the
mark."

Mr. Linnie grinned inanely. He had forgotten the in-
terruption of his sport; he was painfully intent on this
startling revelation.

"Sir," continued Mr. Shilbeck, with great emphasis, "if
Jeff went and lost that girl, old Giles Dunbar would raise
hell. Yes, sir, and if I was Jeff, I'd attend to business in-
stead of goin' tootin' in a motor with a peuky Frenchman,
as if there wasn't a girl 'bout the place. Natrilly she don't
like it."

" Ah I " said Rollo, paling in the tumult Mr. Shilbeck
had raised. " And his sister, Miss Dunbar, is she free ? "

"Stands to reason," answered Job, "that Giles Dunbar's
daughter am't without admirers. Gilt edges are generally
good on any market. But in this world nothing's impos-
sible except bringin' the dead to life again, and makin' sure
of happiness ; and if a young fellow that's got a tol'rable
appearance and his head right screwed on was to look spry
—Hullo ! there's lunch."

And he rose to join his friends, Mr. Linnie following with
no great alacrity.

CHAPTER XXXII

PLAYING FOR A GREAT PRIZE

Linnie till he can hardly ,r" ToM r'lT 1°""^
"There, just look at tha^- ^ RaU^tf'^^'^^''-
barrels. « Two shot, .nH . ^^^^^ **"' bo'h

not safe. ForctdJ S ,! '° ""''' ^ ^ ^^^'^er. '''^
^or uoas sake take care of yourself"

was upon him that if t,^ realised that a cnus

fortune'^he ti^'e 'had come "" ""^'^ ^ '°"' '''^ ^-

twenty .ilHonsfyou m^;\^clpt t^ g^"^ t''" '°:
twenty millions, a veritable gold mi^. T ."^''^"^'
put away ready for use Thf l u ' '^"^' """'^''' ^"^
manner which ml ?K "'°"S'" ^'^^'^'^d R°l"o in a

That was the ,Z;S;, '^1' ''''''''' '^^''--■
the captain was leTexS " . ?"""« ^''°'" J^^ «d
but damn thTJSin S '"^^ {"' '"■«''' '^ '°'«'^ted,
there at all? ^heUi^^rT T '"'"'"P^^ ^""^'l
could not be caled-T^ r ^^'^ "'^ legitimate, if it
p "^""^ ''"'*=°"'«- In his own mind he turned

209

aio A SON OF GAD

Mr. Uuntur over and over, analysed him, took his di-
mensions, weighed him in the balance, and reluctantly
admitted his claims. His lot as the son of a multi-
millionaire was one which mode Rollo's mouth water, like
the thought of a luscious (loar. To have coin for the
gratification of every conceivable fad, foible and taste,
however rare, however i, xpensive ; to be able to procure the
costliest the world olTcred in yacht, racehorses, motors, or
whatever else in devices of pleasure a fertile invention
might suggest ; to dictate at will to tailors, jewellers, and
wine merchants without thought of the time of reckoning,
conferred privileges which Mr. RoUo Linnie, as an amateur
of fashion, readily recognised. Moreover, though at Dun-
veaglc on a tender and momentous mission, Mr. Dunbar
was not violently nor fatuously in love, and if he missed
his chance, why, then the possibilities to others were the
more glorious.

Ne'.t minute, however, Mr. Linnie ground his teeth over
something mentioned incidentally by Shilbeck — the infernal
fickleness of the feminine heart. Somewhere in the course
of his reading he had come across a saying of , oltaire,
that sense is like a beard and women have none. They
twisted like serpents, changed like the chameleon, and often
chose like fools. " It's too true," he reflected, thinking of
personal observations of such a temper ; " too true."

He went on with his shooting as in a vexed dream, and
ended the day in a nervous fever. In the evening he bade
a curt good-bye, and went off without going near the castle.
He had plans to mature, and he could do that best driving
meditatively in the odorous August dusk.

The issue was a series of artfully arranged calls. Among
the blessings conferred by nature upon RoUo was a paternal
aunt. Miss Jemima Linnie, and a -.ister, Miss Grace.
Thf elder maiden, though already past the fiftieth mile-
stone in life's pilgrimage, had all the zest and more than

311

PLAYING FOR A GREAT PRIZE

a coquettish archnew m convert with men, a eenial
sympathy w,th their failing,, and a wondrou, rccept v t«
of heart m regard to their fancies. She was tn.uhled J
a growing massiveness of girth, detrimental .„ the spirit of
spnght hness; but this tendency to surplusage of bod she
valiantly combated by hooping and bidding so riS that

ZS'tTf 'T'' '" "«"'■•■•"-« ^«-' corselel'slt S
upright, Ike a cask on end, and breathed as if she were in
a state of chronic agitation. But what she lacked in ea e

From t IT? h'«"" ''"' '"='^'-' "P '" ^'-"'V ''f — "
From the first she was softly interested in Mr. Ogilvie and

stalling a new mistress at Dunveagle

■' Every head of a house should be married," Miss J.mima
had ^^,d p„vately. "US a duty he owes to society ; and
Im sure every man who can afford it would be greatly the
better of a wife to look after him." Had Mfss Tnnie
opened her whole heart she would have added ''LdTm

Sometimes in the hour of dreams that comes even to stout

rrv of 'ii' ''' f ""■ '^'^"^'^ '° ''^^ ^^^<^^^°^^

economy of Dunveagle, and take personal charge of the
happiness of its master. Her niece was half her age fet

wTh tSf m"l " "%t" '^'^"'^^•^"'^ P'enteously endLw S
with the family regard for number one

m^fn/uZ""^ "'"^ °^ ""^'^^""8 'he Ogilvies, urged a
mo e neighbourly spirit, and packed them off to their duty.
So .t came to pass that, while the gentlemen shot grouse on
the moor, the ladies drank tea in the drawing-room "led
one another up," i„ Kitty's shrewd words, and pa s3
judgment on a whole county ^

knowL^rJT,'""^"."" '''"«^ '"" ^" P-P"= *°«h
knowing, the taste and inclination of every man of note

211 A SON OF GAD

and especially the correct ages of ladies who got to "a
certain age," and stopped till it became convenient to
advance. As she remembered when many of them were in
short frocks, her smiling assurance, " I know exactly," was
as damaging as a birth-certificate.

The impression she produced was not perhaps such as
she designed or imagined.

"Poor old thing," Kitty remarked confidentially to
Connie ; " I guess she's herself got to the point at which a
woman takes a turn backward. If she's fifty now, how much
younger will she be in five years hence ? It's a fearful fight
with old age."

A dinner-party at Teviot Hall cemented a friendship
auspiciously begun in London and developed by tea-
drinking at Dunveagle ; and then came the golden oppor-
tunity to which the astute RoUo had been cunningly leading
up. At Aberfourie there is a yearly gathering for Highland
sports, the most notable in the county. RoUo was so fortu-
nate as to be on the committee of management, and at the
appropriate time he took care that the millionaire of Dun-
veagle had a place of honour among the patrons. There
followed an invitation to the ladies for the games during the
day and the ball in the evening. Connie hung back, bat
Kitty pressed, and Rollo was transported by an acceptance.
He saw twenty millions drawing perceptibly nearer ; he saw
presumptuous interlopers thrust out into the cold. In one
thing unhappily he failed, in spite of his protests; Captain
MacLean, in v'rtue of his military fame, was invited to be
one of the judges. But Rollo vowed with himself to make
that a matter of no moment in the arrangement for the
party from Dunveagle.

CHAPTER XXXIII

AN OLYMPIAN FESTIVAL

/-\N the festive day Aberfourie breakfasted to the merry
W din of bugles and pipe music. From early morning
the county, folk flocked in, a picturesque, characteristic
throng some m g,gs, some on horseback, but most on foot
for lofty and low alike made holiday in honour of "the
Games. The railway too contributed its quota, competitors
>n the commg tournament for most part, champion athletes,
pnze dancers and musicians, faded hangers on, and. lest
the fun should flag, a leaven of the quick-witted, nibble-
fingered artists, whose field of operations is other people's

A little before noon the carriages of the quality began to
gutter and jmgle in all varieties of splendour ; here a duke's
here an eari's, yonder a baronet's, and between, the flashing
turnout of mercantile or financial prince, for the present
seeking the mystic glory that comes of leasing Highland
» moors and deer forests. The waggonettes and dog
carte of the smaller gentry furnished the humbler elements
Of foil and contrast; and the whole, when at last the con-
vergmg point was reached, presented a spectacle of Roman
pomp and bustle. Indeed, with but a slight change of
circumstance, one might have fancied all this brave pag^ntry
a prelude to the gladiatorial contests and chariot races th^
once made the populace of Rome drunk with excitement

lordly Tay (swollen imperceptibly by the Veagle), to which
"3

»M

A SON OF GAD

the presumptuous Roman had likened his muddy Tiber ;
here was the motley crowd, bronzed, lusty, and hilariously
loud-voiced, ready for any revel ; above all here were the
flashing wheels, the splendid horses, dancing under the curb
in all the pride of gay trappings and faultless condition.

The rousing clamour of bugles from four-in-hands and
the criticism passed upon the coaches of greatness served
to divert attention from the insignificant vehicles which
crept along, like poor relations, anxious only to escape
notice. Among these was the Craigenard dog-cart, with
Ian Veg on the driver's seat, the captain by his side, and
Alick on the back seat.

They were all in native dress, which is to say kilts
of MacLean tartan, and below were lan's pipes, a pair
of dancing shoes, the property of Alick, and a stout leather
case of portmanteau size, belonging to the captain. They
entered the field unrecognised, save for official salutations
to the captain, and next minute were lost in the throng.

Half an hour later there wheeled into the white-tented
field an equipage which instantly became a centre of at-
traction and interest. It was drawn by four gleaming
blacks, their necks superbly arched, their rich manes tossing
royally as they flung their heads, their full, undocked tails
almost sweeping the ground, their richly mounted harness
sparkling as with gems. On the box erect between two
smiling girls sat a sable-faced coachman in livery of green
and gold, handling his mettlesome team with the ease and
aplomb of the practised whip. That he was proud of them
one could see by a glance at the dusky face, proud of their
shape, their style, their mettle, and their instant, graceful
obedience to his touch. The ladies, looking down upon
the curved necks and quivering ears, were also proud ; for
God has created few finer things than a perfect horse, and
here at their feet were four perfect examples of subtle
strength and grace.

AN OLYMPIAN FESTIVAL J15

" The new laird of Dunveagle," the whisper ran, and the
crowd pressed to examine the turn-out of a millionaire, once
as poor as themselves, and consider his taste in coaches
and horseflesh. For the most part the gazers were dumb,
for four such horses had never before entered Aberfourie
together, and the face of the man himself was a matter for
silent wonder and study. A cynic, however, found his
tongue, and his words, winged with .sarcasm as it seemed,
reached the millionaire's ears.

" Umph ! black coachman, black horses ; black's the
colour for gold. Grand taste."

The rich man turned swiftly, and his eye fell on a
battered figure within a foot of his chariot wheels. It had
a fiddle under its arm, and its face bore evidence of many
sprees, but it looked up saucily cit of its red eyes. It was
but a glance the man above gave, for what have millionaires
to do with broken-down fiddlers ? The gleaming blacks
passed on, champing their bits ; and the owner of the fiddle
turned suddenly at a touch from behind.

" Pocket pickin' so early in the day," he cried, swinging
about. "Who's that?"

"There's a heap in your pocket worth picking, Lauchie
Duff, I'm thinking," was the response.

Lauchie's face beamed in spite of scars.

"Ow, ow, Ian Veg!" he cried, wringing the hand held
out to him like a forty-year-old crony. " Who'd have ex-
pected such a sicht for sair een? And how's the pipes,
man, how's the pipes ? "

"Oh, just about as well's the fiddle, Lauchie," beamed
Ian.

" And that's as sick as the devil after a bellyful o' cauld
kail," was the response. " Ian Veg, men o' our persuasion's
no owre well treated by a godless world. When would
your blowin' and my scrapin' get us a coach-and-four like
the ane that's just passed, d'ye think.? Dunveagle's puttin'

2l6

A SON OF GAD

rA style. And Duncan lookit doon as if he'd never laid
eyes on me afore. Man, I fiddled at Jack Ogilvie's weddin'
wi Jean Meldrum o' the Whins; micht have had Jean
mysel' if I'd likit. But God in His Providence never made
me a marryin' man. The meesery o' my friends is quite
enough for me. So Jean Meldrum just took Jock Ogilvie,
and ye see what's iiappened. She's a fine lady the day, I'm
telt, and I'm-never mind what, I'm good for a gill yet.
Where 11 we go ' "

Ian protested it was too early in the day for whisky,
givmg as a reason for abstinence that he expected to do
a little piping by-and-by.

"Oh!" cried Mr. Duff, throwing back his head as if
smffing a desire on lan's part to pose for respectability.
"So you're goin' to squeeze the auld bags, are ye? And
you're grown fine and sober, Ian, since that time ye drank
Mary Ruah into glory. Nae doot, ye've things on yer
conscience like ;he rest o' us. But tell me what's the auld
Dunveagle doin' hob-nobbin' wi' the new Dunveagle? I
thought he'd have cuttit his throat first."
" So he should," returned Ian.

" That's yer opinion, is it ? " said Uuchie. " Faith, they
say he come near killin" himsel' one day no long ago, when
you and him was oot thegither. Both on the skite, I
suppose."

'|Sober's you are this minute, Lauchie," Ian replied.

"And that's a great deal soberer nor's at all naetral or
agreeable, Mr. Mackem," was the rejoinder. "But, tell me
what's wrang wi' the laird— I mean the auld ane ? "

Ian made an eloquent contortion of face, indicating that
he must not blab in a public place.

"Is it so bad as that?" Lauchie answered sympatheti-
cally. "Well, there's no place for a crack like a public-
hoose. Come ! " And he bore the half-resisting Ian off.

Meanwhile the Dunveagle drag had wheeled into place

AN OLYMPIAN FESTIVAL ,,,

and the party alighted, Mr. Rollo Linnie receiving them
graciously on behalf of the committee. ^

"I congratulate you on the fine day you've brought " Hp
sa.d comprehensively to Connie and Ki ty ; 'l Zlt '.Jl
see good sport." '°" "

The girls expressed their pleasure, and between saluta

"There's a little military parade first," he told them
volunteers and they want to air their new uniforms."
a man Mr t7 7"" '"'""' '° '^"^ "^^' '^ '"-" "ho was
-p;?n7st settm'r- ''' '—- ^^^d no military
"Oh!" replied Kitty mischievously, "I love to see
officers in un form. In Berlin I kissed my ha^d to l"
^rtUt '^ "!,"'^' ''"'= ' ""'=''• ' ^^^ blushing

w^lovelvArT''" '"'''' "'^^ '"' "^^^''-
w^ lovely, I tell you. I can understand now how kincs

and emperors are useful for show. The German officer
too, knows how to get into his clothes-as my brother llff
-ys-but he's not a patch on the Hungariar t^ of.
to see Hungarians in uniform."
She broke off with an exclamation as the strains of " The

" as ' Zt!^^^""^ ^*'^''" "■"' ^''■'^ '° '^'^'" ««d Connie ■
as a military man he'd be interested » '

'Hullo!" cried Jeff, as in infant reply, "there he is

-, ju. come out of th.t tent, and in fuli ':;gi ^ nta.s Jo,'

Kitty levelled a field-glass.

Mi:

A SON OF GAD

" And he's got his medals on too," she added quickly.
" Isn't he just lovely ? "

Connie breathed a little faster ; Rollo could have groaned.
He did not expect this.

"Oh, there's another officer beside Captain MacLean,"
Kitty pointed out. " Who's that ? "

" That," replied the laird, trying to look as if he were
not in the least gratified, " is young Lord Kinluig, an officer
in my son's regiment."

The _, jth advanced ; Captain MacLean took up a position
on an improvised sUnd over which floated the Union Jack,
with Lord Kinluig beside him, and a group of local nota-
bilities behind. The music changed, and the Aberfourie
warriors strode past to the "Pibroch of Donald Dhu,"
a war tune which had sent the captain and his comrade
into the real thing ; then wheeled, and came back to " Blue
Bonnets over the Border." All at once the pipes stopped,
the company halted facing the flag, and the bugle sounded
the general salute, the captain standing in a rigid acknow-
ledgment which drew comments and exclamations from the
I^unveagle coach. Then the red-faced bugler also ceased,
the captain descended and proceeded along the ranks,
peering and smiling.

"What's he doing?" Kitty asked eagerly.
" Inspecting," answered the laird.
" A farce," put in Rollc bitterly.
" Oh ! " said Kitty, as in response to both.
A drill exhibition followed, the captain made a little
speech, the pipers struck up a quick step, and the Aber-
fourie Highlanders marched ofl' briskly— into civil life.
Thereupon Captain MacLean made his way to the Dun-
veagle brake, Uking with him his friend and comrade, Lord
Kinluig.

CHAPTER XXXIV

PEER AND DEMOCRAT

THE welcome to Norman was easy and cordial, both
girls giving their hands and their smiles as to a
familiar friend. With Kinluig it was necessary to stand
more upon ceremony, for besides being a stranger, he was
young, handsome, and a peer. He stood the democratic
tests capitally, for it chanced that, although a lord— a cir-
cumstance, as he once explained apologetically, he really
couldn't help— his disposition was genial and his training
such as kills the prig. In five minutes he was at home
with the men ; in half an hour the ladies almost forgot
he bore a title. "If you weren't told you'd never guess
he IS an earl's son," Kitty whispered in admiration.

He conformed in no wise to the American notion of
a lord. He did not, for instance, in the least resemble
the starchy, drawling little Duke of Fossilborough, whom
she had met and ridiculed at Newport ; he was equally
unlike the Earl of Bobshaw, who had swaggered through
New Yo.k drawing-rooms with a coronet under his arm,
as if it were a new patent magnet, warranted to attract
gold. Subsequently in her visits to Europe she had met
specimens of nobility dowered with the qualities of man,
and Kinluig seemed to be fashioned on the best models.
He wore no monocle, cultivated no drawl, irritated by no
airs of condescension. On the positive side he had frank-
ness, good looks, engaging ways, and an admiration for the
captain that was not to I e hidden.
219

220

A SON OF GAD

Refemng to the military display just ended, Kitty com-
mented wtfly on men in short frocks, and both girls
asked Captam MacLean's opinion of the local force. But
he would not criticise. The men were civilians, and
civilians don't become soldiers merely by getting into
uniform and enjoying themselves on a gala-day. Partly
from irresponsibility, partly from the stimulus of bright
eyes Kinluig permitted himself more freedom of speech.
I know what he'd have liked, Miss Dunbar," he said
in answer to a question at which the captain had merely
smiled. "First, he'd have liked to take the men down
to a quiet spot by the riverside, and talked to them like
a father about dressing and bearing, and the use of steel
and lead. Then he'd have liked to take them uphill in
lace of a sniping foe to see how his precepts were bearing

"You're always bloodthirsty, Kinluig," the captain re-
marked.

"Don't forget that bit of fun with the Buffs," rejoined
Kinluig. "I thought of it to-day, listening to that
pibroch."

The voices of Connie and Kitty came together in a
demand for particulars.

offic^*^ ^ '^"'" "^^^^ ^'"'"'^' '""'''"^ "^ ^'' ""P^™'
"You must tell," responded Kitty before the captain
had chance of reply. "Captain MacLean is superseded
in command. You are not to mind his authority "

She beamed as if to say, "It's useless trying to resist-
give in pleasantly." The captain bowed.

"If there were authority," he said, "it could not be
resigned into worthier hands," and having no taste for
incense, turned to talk with Mr. Ogilvie.

"The thing is told in a sentence," Kinluig began, as
both girls instinctively drew closer. " It was in one of

321

PEER AND DEMOCRAT

the little shindies up among the hills, which a •houghtful

Indian Government arranges for pnctice. Some of us

had got mto a devilishly hot corner— I beg your pardon."

"Oh, don't!" returned Kitty. "It's delightful. You

had got into a corner of the kind you mention "

"Thank you— yes, and those who had been irregular in
their devotions were beginning to have regrets, you know."
" And that was just the whole lot, I guess," put in Kitty.
"Well, possibly you're not far out, Miss Dunbar.
Soldiers aren't parsons. In any case there we were
peppered much too hotly for pleasantness; for the beggars
above had got our range to a yard, and the men were
throwing up arms and turning over— we were lying down
of course-at a rate that meant wiping out, if it lasted
any considerable time."

"It must be terrible to see men dying," Connie remarked,
with a shudder.

"Well, yes, I daresay it is, if you stop to think of it
One can't call it a cheerful spectacle when strong men roll
in the dust, crying out; but our fellows kept pretty quiet to
do them justice. It depends on how and where a man's
hit whether or not he makes a fuss. We hadn't time to
think of that. Captain MacLean was in command, our
major being wounded. 'What's it to be, sir?' I asked
'Why, what should it be?' he answered, running his eye up
the slope. 'Strike up,' he said, turning to the pipe-major,
and on the spur of the moment there came the ' Pibroch of
Donald Dhu,' which you have heard to-day. That's how I
thought of the thing, but the circumstances were slightly
different. _ Miss Ogilvie, I fear the story is unpleasant to you."
Conmas face had grown ominously pale, but it was the
pallor of interest and excitement.
" No," protested Connie ; " please go on."
"Well, there came the word of command from our
captam. You should have seen the Buffs leap. I can see

'' 1

223

A SON OF GAD

them this minute, for they meant to kill, and when men
mean to kill there's something in their faces that, once seen
you don't forget. Up went the captain, and after him we
raced. From the pinging of Icai' you might have imagined
a thousand swarms of bees were about our cars Men
dropped thick, for the shooting was dashed good for
savages. The brigadier had detected our fix, and sent an
order to retire. But Captain MacLean has a deaf ear on
occasion, as Nelson had a blind eye."

"Weren't you horribly afraid?" asked Jeff, who had
joined the listening group.

"Some of us might have bee: :. we'd got the chance "
was the candid reply. "In ten minutes we were among
the beggars with the bayonet, and there was one of the
most agile scampers you ever saw. That's where Captain
MacLean got his n.S.O."
"And what's his US.O. ?" Kitty inquired.
"The Distinguished Service Order," Kinluig explained.
1 thmk he ought to have had the V.C."
" I know what that is," Kitty said. " He never told us
about the other."

"No, and probably wouldn't if you were to know him
twenty years. He's not of the men who talk about
themselves. But the army will give you his record, ay, and
predict for you what he's to be."
" And what's that ? "

"A general, if he gets half a chance." was the emphatic
reply. "^

Connie smiled softly to herself. She knew his record
having very privately consulted army lists, and drank in
with a kmd of thrilling greediness the praise of his brother
officer.

Conversation was interrupted by a movement in the ring,
announcmg that the sports were about to begin. Rollo
dropped hurriedly from the Dunveagle drag, inviting the

PEER AND DEMOCRAT jjj

millionaire to accompany him within the space reserved for
patrons, judges, snd committee-men, but for the present
Mr. Ogilvie preferred to remain with his own party.

" Hullo ! " exclaimed Kinluig at sight of a particularly
active old Highlander within the enclosure. "The
governor."

" Lord Ardvenmore never misses the Games," said the
laird.

"I verily believe he'd as soon think of missing his
dmner when he's hungry," Kinluig responded, with a little
laugh. "The Games are a sort of annual dissipation. He's
one of the judges to-day. There go some of the competi-
tors at last."

A shout of glee went up from the watchers as there
appeared half-a-dozen giants in undress shirt and kilt. One
could see the knotted sinews in their great bare arms, and
the thm shirts hardly hid the mighty chests. They chatted
together amicably as four others bore into the arena what
appeared to be two tree trunks, sawn short, one being
slightly longer and heavier than the other.

"What are they going to do with that timber?" Mr.
Shilbeck inquired, giving the first sign of interest in the
proceedings.

"Going to make it turn somersaults," answered Kinluig.

"Sainted Aunt Maria 1 " exclaimed Jeff, who was actually
tasting a new sensation.

'•It's called tossing the caber," the laird explained.
Caber is Gaelic ; the tossing consists of turning the caber
over on end."

"Funny kind of sport, tumin' undressed timber end-
ways," Mr. Shilbeck remarked.

By this time one of the sons of Anak had the caber high
in air, and was staggering drunkenly in the effort to
balance it.

"A little too much liquor on board for that job, I reckon,

134

A SON OF CAD

The next instant the sUggering giant gave a mighty lurch,
the caber fited forward, t,x,k the ground, rose slowly
paused at the perpendicular, hesitated, and fell to the side.
Failed, by jimminy !" cried Jeff, his right shoulder un-
consciously hitched as if he too were heaving a caber

"Not much sign of liquor there, I think." said Kinluig,
turning genially to Mr. Shilbeck.

"Quite right, sir. quite right," Job admitted, with equal
afiability. '

The next giant who took up the caber failed likewise, and
the next, and the next.

" Reckon tain't so easy as it looks, n.akin' that pole turn
a somersault," said Mr. Shilbeck at large. " They'd better
toddle home and come another day. Likely people lookin'
fret em and put 'em out."

But as he spoke there stepped forth from the group of
gladiators one whom the crowd welcomed with a resounding
cheer. °

"Ah, here's Donald himself." said the laird. "You'll
see It going over now."

Donald squared his herculean shoulders, stooped, seized
the caber, hoisted it, took a little uncertain step back a
little resolute race forward, rose till he stood on his to^. -i.d
spun the caber in air as a child might spin a walking-stick.

The crowd pealed as the caber went over, but Donald did
not heed. In the time of Games cheers were his daily fare

" Goliath of Gath." cried Connie.

" That's always what Donald does." said the laird " They
make the handicap heavier and heavier to get others to
enter, and as you say. Miss Ogilvie. it's a case of walking off
with the Gates of Gaza each time."

_ "I guess," Jeff said, taking stock of the athletic figure,
had be an ugly hand in a row."

I'EEn AND DEMOCRAT „,

" Vou'll have a hint presently of what he'd be likely to
do, returned the laird. '

To the caber tossing succeeded the wrestlinK. and here
again Donald .as to prove his brawn. There w s b t on
man who would hazard his clasp, and when the va"t
arm, closed like iron Unds on that venturesome trJo^
beholders gasped as if their own ribs were cracking."^ '
Hes good stuff," said Kinluig, referring to the lighter
man, •■ but Donald grips like a python " ^

The wrestlers swayed and turned, their backs arched
the caUes of their legs knitting and writhing. Then S
denly Donald crouched and drew ; the crooktd back "f hi
antagonist straightened, the knees bowed, and Donald laid
his man on the grass.

theSLr's! ""' "'"' "" P'="'°™ *^' "^^^ -'ly f-
"By the way, isn't our friend Alick to dance?" Kitty
asked the captain. Yes, Alick was to danc but he
captain doubted if he would dance to much pun«s .

"GoISl'°"" "" ^"""^ "" •J"""^"'" he explained.
Good dancers every one of them, and oddly enough one
of the best IS your Goliath of Gath."

atrifletn '"''''i' °^ ■''! P'^P*"'"°"» 'he laird, looking forth
a tnfle anxiously, spied two figures crossing the field towards
the reserved enclosure. They were loving!^ linked togler
nd waUced with Jerky. irreguUr steps.' 'under trarm
of one a bagpipe straggled like a dead turkey with spread

applied P'^-"""'"""^ °f ''°"ble and was not dis-

buuI'L^r '^"" "^^ ^^harp altercation with the keeper.

bega

beat fast. As he

'li

126

A SON OF GAD

expected, RoUo pounced on the linked figures, who drew
up, swaying unsteadily. What Mr. Linnie said was not
much, but like Mercutio's wound, it was enough. The
laird saw the principal figure lay down its pipes, fix its
bonnet more firmly on its head, and trip out, squarine
defiantly. r . -i g

"Norman, go and see what's wrong with that spitfire
now," the laird said in sudden concern. " Be quick, or he'll
assault Linnie before you get there."

Norman obeyed with military alacrity, every eye on the
drag watching intently. ;

"What's this?" he demanded sharply, taking Ian un-
aware. " What do you mean, sir, by conduct of this sort ? "

Mr. Lauchie Dufi" took two steps backward, recovered,
and hiccoughed, grinning on the captain.

"It's a wee maitter o' private honour," he explained.
"Our friend Ian was always a stickler for honour."

In the same instant Ian turned, his face as a flame of fire.

" Here's a man, sir," he said, jerking the head scornfully
at Linnie, "that thinks God Almighty has handed the
management of the world over to him."

" He's not fit to be here in that condition," Rollo inter-
posed in self-defence, "and I've ordered him out."

"True," rejoined Ian, "but ye made a mistake to thir^k
he wass a big enough ass to go for the like of you. As for
my condeetion, will ye oblige me by standing out and
trying it ? "

"That's fair and square," commented Lauchie. "Al haud
yer pipes, Ian."

Rollo turned to Norman. "As these two are, I infer,
under your care," he said, with mock politeness, " I advise
you to get them out of the way as quickly as possible.
The committee cannot tolerate this."

"I'm here to pipe," Ian declared aloud, "and I'm going
to pipe, and you can stick your committee "

227

PEER AND DEMOCRAT

" Ian, Ian," interrupted the capuin

"thaf doeS f """"T"^'" '^'°"«d Ian contemptuously,
that doesn t know a chanter from a cabbage stock "

sce^r rr T "' I'"''' ''°™^" "''"^^ '" -void a
vktor looksh ""f "^-^""e. and no man, even if he be

S;s tte rb rr' ^"' r^""^' ■" ^ "-<^-

=, mere was but one man whose word in nrp.!Pnt
condmons, would have the smallest effect with Ihe en^ed

"If you will have the goodness to wait one minute I will
Lt„2o7 ''''-'•" ^™ "^^ ''"'-'^ - ^^°. and

When the laird arrived he took Ian aside and for .
mmute the pair held animated conversation' lanTthumb
erkmg vehemently over his shoulder at Rollo. AH^k

w.m a plea. He had learned the great art under Ian Veg's

Xv'to'hLTnTh "' °' '""■ '' "" •=°"-'^«l ^- ''hould
play to h,m m the competition; the chance of a prize was
gone If Ian were to be thrust out. ^

"On your honour, Ian, are you fit to play?" the laird
asked, lookmg hard at his henchman ^

upl?tL'"cub ■'''..¥! T''^' ="■""•"« ^y-Pa'hetically
steot^^H Lif u ^'""^ ^ "■*" °"' because he's

stepped half an mch out of the straight line If that „!
were to hold, which of us should see salvation i- "

CHAPTER XXXV

FOR THE GLORY OF THE LAIRD AND OF NORMAN

IN the dancing interest centred, so far as Dunveagle was
concerned, in two cbmpetitors, Alick Ruah and the
champion in the wrestling and caber tossing, scarcely to be
recognised in his new guise, so airily lithe and springy he
appeared. In the feats of strength he seemed brawn and
brawn alone ; but on the platform ready for the dance he
was all grace and suppleness. The novice-critics made the
mistake of associating might of thew with heaviness of
bulk and slowness of movement. A giant to their mind
must necessarily be a sort of human elephant or dray-horse.
They understood nothing of bodies compacted on the
principle of finely tempered steel.

The fact is, the rectified essence of many types of man-
hood lay packed under Donald's glengarry. In heroic ages
he would have excelled equally at Olympus or Delphi, the
Isthmus or Rome. A runner, a leaper, a wrestler, a dancer
almost without match, he would have been a hero for
Pindar's muse. You beheld him in one attitude, say rigid
with the dark olive-brown skin drawn tight over muscle
and bone, and he suggested carved bronze; he relaxed, and
you had the almost superhuman suppleness, the agile grace,
springy as steel, flexible as a serpent, which Greek art has
made immortal. He wrestled, and the Roman gladiator
stood before you.

Beside him Alick was as the stripling David to Goliath.
And like David, Alick was not abashed. A ludicrous con-

338

FOR THE GLORY OF THE LAIRD 2,9

trast in point of size, giant and boy were alike in this, that
each could use hands and feet with a miraculous skill, the
effect of pure bodily genius.

By a stroke of irony they took the floor together, the
difference in stature calling forth examples of the rough
pleasantries by which a crowd signifies its good humour.
There were a score of expert pipers present, each eager to
pipe, but it was Ian Veg who stepped to the front, ribbons
flying bravely, buckles gleaming, head thrown back like the
proud protagonist in a great drama. He took up his
position in front of the dancers, and the pipes squealed.
For half a second the laird's heart stopped in fear, and
somehow every one on the Dunveagle drag inclined on the
strain. Even Shilbeck felt and obeyed the magnetic in-
fluence. Ian gave his drone a vicious twist, as one flicks
a horse that jibs unexpectedly in a crucial moment.
"Heavens!" thought the laird, with a chilly quiver, "he's
not fit after all," and in his mind's eye he saw Ian hurried
off in disgrace by order of the gloating Rollo. But even
as his blood ran cold there rose the strong, clear note indi-
cating that all was well

The dance was "GhiUie Challum." The dancers raised
their glengarries, bowed (Alick instinctively towards the
Dunveagle coach), and turned each to his crossed swords.
The next moment they were bobbing, arms akimbo.
Connie and Kitty clapped their hands, for this made all
stage exhibitions artificial and clumsy; the laird breathed
quickly, his eye moving to and fro between dancers and
piper. Mr. Shilbeck forgot to smoke, and Mr. Ogilvie
beat time, his blood leaping in a rapture. The measure
quickened, up went the dancers' right arms in crescents
over the head, and the dancers' buckled feet were as sun-
beams twinkling among sword-blades. The attention was
concentrated on Donald and Alick, but one watched Ian in
wonder and admiration.

J30

A SON OF GAD

" He's the drunkest man that ever put finger to pipe at
Games," commented Mr. Duff, "and listen till him. I can
play mysel in drink, but owre fou I slither. The higher
ye fill him the better the playin'."

The music ceased; the dancers bowed to a tumult of
clapping and roanng.

"Glorious!" cried Mr. Ogilvie, clapping frantically.

" Glorous ! " echoed Kitty and Connie.

" Yes," Mr. Shilbeck owned, "pretty good."

It was as near hyperbole as Mr. Shilbeck ever ventured.

In the ring, a group of the privileged, including Captain
MacLean and y-t: gathered about Donald and Alick.

"I think ht'^- fon," the giant said, smiling down on his
rival. "Youll have seen that, my lord," he added to the
Earl of Ardvenmore and strode away. He did not tell
that by a false step deliberately planned he surrendered his
own chance to Alick.

" I've more cups and medals than I know what to do
with," he remarked later in confidence, "and the wee
devil's a brick."

Meantime Ian did his best (and it was much) to renew
hostilities with Mr. Linnie.

"What d'ye think of yerself now?" he demanded,
snapping his fingers in Rollo's face. "You and yer
coirmittee taking it on yerselves to judge me. Go home
and buy a penny whistle." And he went off disdainfully
to receive congratulations. But the captain took care
they should not be washed down with liquor.

Others succeeded in sword dance and Highland Fling.
Then once more giant and stripling stood up together for
a reel, and Ian tuned and took his place, still drunk, still
divinely capable. And the dancing over, there came the
surprise of the day. Without whisper or hint to any friend
Ian had entered for the pipe competition, contriving, by
means of his own, to get his name entered as an un-

FOR THE GLORY OF THE LAIRD ,3,

published addition to the programme. The competitors
included famous players, from MacVorlich, the Earl of
Ardvenmore's own piper, down through many Macs already
noted in the annals of games. Maclcem was oldest of
them all, was out of practice and was drunk, ay, very
drunk, though not wholly, if the observer's eye went deep
enough, with the drunkenness of ardent waters. Through
the old brain and fingers swept the fiery tides of youth,
the passion of an indestructible devotion.

Ian was not piping from vanity, nor for the paltry triumph
of a prize, but for the glory of the laird and of Norman.
So he stepped forth in a glorious intoxication more spiritual
than spirituous, to hold for one dazzling moment his
beloved up to the admiration of the world. For Ian, like
the primitive creature he was, could not separate his own
honour from his master's. If he suffered with the laird, the
laird should rejoice with him; such were lan's faith and
ideals. He that loveth much shall not only be forgiven
much, but shall perform miracles. The fervour of the
gallant wearing his lady's favours was feeble and insipid
beside lan's hot, relentless loyalty. He had taught Alick
to dance, and piped him to victory; he was now to do
a much greater thing.

When he stepped out, his bonnet askew, his rebel hair in
his eyes, the judges looked grave, but by the time he had
turned twice in the allotted space, the gravity was on the
faces of his rivals. For the small, grey-headed figure did
mt simply play a certain time, he evoked the very spirit of
the warrior Gael— dauntless, thrilling, triumphant ; so that
listeners, women almost as much as men, felt the roused
impulse for the onset ; and then, all at once, as at the wave
of a magician's wand, a gush of piteous, yearning emotion
subdued the excited multitude to an ineffable sadness. As
a minute before it itched for the fight, so now it sighed over
the poignancy of human misery. The most affecting of the

»3»

A SON OF CJAD

ancient tragic poets, the sublime Greek, confidant and
instrument of Fate, the still sublimer Englishman, whose
pen was the very stylus of tragedy, had their match in the
transhumanised Celtic player. For it was not Ian that
piped, great as Ian was in piping, but the genius of loyalty
herself.

He ended, and returned to his place in a tempest from
two thousand throats. He was not surprised. He knew
what he had done, and his rivals knew also. The Earl's
own piper met him with congratulations; the Earl himself
wrung his hard right hand. Better still, Norman was glad,
and presently came a message that he was wanted on the
Dunveagle drag.

It chanced that Linnie went to his friends without know-
ing of this message, and Ian, balancing giddily, was helped
up at his heels-to receive a welcome from the young
ladies for which Rollo would have given his soul. But
lans eyes were for the laird. "Am I fit now, sir?" he
asked, as one might say, " It was all for you ; I hope you're
satisfied."

" Fit r echoed the laird; '• Ian Veg, you're a greater piper
than I thought. I'm proud of you."

In testimony of general appreciation, Mr. Ogilvie poured
out a glass of sparkling liquor, and Ian, despite himself,
drank to the ladies and the laird of Dunveagle. Mr Duff,
watching close at hand, remarked, sof(a voce, that in this
world some people have an undue share of luck.

CHAPTER XXXVI

A PRECIPITATE LOVER

TO the Countess of Ardvenmore, as first fiddle among
the quaUty, fell the distinction of presenting the
prizes. Her son acted as aide-de-camp, and a brilliant
group, including the Dunveagle party, supported her,
smiling when she smiled, looking gracious as she looked
gracious, according to the best traditions of the art. Connie
and Kitty being conspicuous in the foreground were
subjected to much whispered criticism, directed partly at
their looks, as representing the beauty of American woman-
hood, but chiefly at their riches, as representing the ideals
of a whole world.

It was owned they passed creditably in looks, that their
cosmopolitan airs were piquant and engaging, and that,
withal, they seemed commendably modest for young people
who doubtless had much incense burned under their noses,
and were every minute of their lives taught by a hundred
subtle teachers that the earth and its glories are for such as
can afford to pay. On the other hand, it was noted they
were not in the least appalled or confused by the ordeal of
rubbing shoulders with a nobility that traced its lineage
back into the mists of antiquity— ay, even beyond the time
of Noah himself, report aflSrmed. They appeared very
much at ease, and in truth presented as fair a front, as
elegant and nice a manner as if they had just arrived, fresh
varnished, from court.

Now Aberfourie had heard, or was led to understand, or
beheved— at any rate, succeeded in getting the notion into
Its head— that while America is pre-eminently the land of
233

■' '(

'if.

ir> \i

'34

A SON OF GAD

But w hi P"-7"""'^""y 'he land of high breeding.

But wuh a hvmg refutation of the slander before its eves
Aberfoune amended its opinion of the Republic ^

The pnzemen entered to th. roar of brazen lungs the
youngest and oldest being the heroes of the crowd. When

"ShSftr M^n r'^^'P" '" "^"^ Ardvenmoie^s ear
Shake the old fellow's hand, mother." His reason given
afterwards was, "You see, the old chap was very d^nk
very m.htant, and ve^. amusing. He not on^won tt
pnze, but gave us a great deal of fun."

th.^M- ^^J^^,"- """^'"^ ^ confession, he would have added
that M.SS Og.lv.e and Miss Dunbar were evidently inter^ted
•n the grey-headed breaker of conventions.
rrl ^°""'^^. gf^ciously gave the cue, and Ian had a

recipient of honour stood dazed and dumfounded till

Alick, the youngest of the prizemen, received Benjamin's
portion of applause, and he. too. being no courtier^Tu
thin. ,^f^^°""'^=»' J^^-'l'^d fingers affected him as some-
thing superhuman, something to be touched with awe and
trepidation. Except Mi.ss Ogilvie's, Alick had never fdt a
hand so soft, so rich, so potent to confuse. Whin he
great lady looked in his face, smiling and speaking words

bS to hk ^ T '''"""^ ^^ ^"^^'^ ^d '""-ed to go;

followed Lr'' K T"""^ ^^' ^y ">^ Countess L
followed by Connie, by Kitty, and a score of other fine
M es, who passed him from hand to hand with a diaboHc

— "!„ the" H .'"'"" l''^" "'^ ^^ °^ ^ hunZd
masters In the end his eyes, like lan's, turned to the laird

with a piteous expression, as if to say, "This is bad, sir, but

A I'RRCIPITATE LOVEH

235

you sec I can't help it." Finding himself free at last, he
bolted, to another and final round of applause.

The presentation of prizes over, the ^lite turned, humming
darntily, to other concerns, and Lord Kinluig contrived
to have the Dunveagle young ladies attached to his mother.
To the prot^g&s thus thrust upon her by a diplomatic
son Lady Ardvenmore bore herself with gentle beneficence
and a close, critical watchfulness. What sort of beings
were they precisely, these daughters of Fortunatus? They
were fabulously rich of course, and riches appealed acutely
;o one whose high estate, like the high estate of many of
her class, was embarrassed by a confounded lack of guineas.
Thus vigorously her ladyship occasionally permitted herself
to speak of aristocratic straitness of purse.

They were rich, but so were cheesemongers and pub-
licans, and haberdashers and pawnbrokers. Her ladyship's
fishmonger owned stocks and freehold property; her lady-
ship's butcher had lent her ^500 on the sly, making his
own exorbitant rate of interest, the rascally Jew; her
ladyship's London tailor had a smarter turn-out than her
ladyship's own. Brewers died millionaires. Stockbrokers
bmlt churches— from remorse probably. Beyond all doubt
craft and commerce brought money. And these two slim
misses were stupendous heiresses, blissfully ignorant of the
worries of making ends meet ; but, great heavens ! if they
should be vulgar.

The Countess of Ardvenmore, an exceedingly fine, fine
^dy of a stock of undisputed hoariness, suffered much,
tjrasping money-lenders had put her under trustees, brutal
tradesmen harassed her as if she were expected to pay
bills hke any common person. "I am apostolic in one
sense at least," she declared, with a touch of hitler humour,
l-or, like Paul, what I would that I do not; what I would
not that I often do." But no power on earth ever did,
would or could induce her to countenance vulgarity.
She therefore regarded these shining divinities from the

*'" A SON OK UM)

oumes ot fortune; the question was, had thev breeriin„ j

girls behaU ikeET-Th" :=°?7"!i°"^' P''"''= '^e
ostontatious display of wealtllh't'l''' '" ,"°"^ °' "^'^

Eu'op^n Topicr and ,r'' '°"" '^"' ''K^-bly on
Mr. Ogilvie too «-r '"'°"""°" "'^^ ""^'-ble.

seir-posSra^TthTCr Vs,t ^^"^'^,"^A ^'^^'"^•

-^shs4sr"~^^

cieve'r inrin'ui:'*^':^^'^ "-^ ''^^'^'^ ----- -

entered the fcroplt'ch ""'"''^ '™^ <=^'"'^ '^^
The friendliness Ta^ elhtised 'to °7,"' "' ''"''"''^'■
Kinluig led off the In^ vk.! ^" ^>'^'' ^^en Lord
watching with mbld r ^'^^ °«"'''^- "'^ •"""'e^
took soL painT "o be ! 1',' ""''' "'"' ^' "^^denti;
in the waitf Of . ^'"'f " "' "''^ P^"'^ ^^"' ^0"nd

A PRECIPITATE LOVER 237

ever, her ladyship failed to notice, being too intent on
her own thoughts, to wit that while her son spoke mosi
earnestly his partner's eyes stole to Captain MacLcan, who
was dancing with Kitty. For it happened that Lieutenant
Lord Kinluig's talk was not of the soft nothings of a ball-
room, but o. war and his comrade's bravery.

Rollo, going round absently with a chance partner,
marked the glow of interest in Miss Ogilvie's face, and
fell gloomily silent. Dulness hanging on the breach of
rudeness is no relish for the dance, and next minute his
partner pleaded fatigue. In the same moment Miss Ogilvie
went by radiantly with Kinluig. Jealousy could endure no
more. Getting rid of his unlucky partner without sign or
token of regret, Rollo went off to drown chagrin in wine.

Returning by-and-by, he was able to dance with Kitty,
and later with Connie. By that time wine, jealousy, and a
spirit yet more potent were working madness in the brain.
He went round mechanically, now in a wild dream, now in
a cold nightmare in which he was clutching at something
that for ever eluded him, and all the while he chattered
with the boisterous gaiety of desperation. But the last
thing the fox loses is cunning. In spite of a light head and
beating arteries, Rollo was still essentially himself. Connie
mentioned the heat, and he proposed a whiff of fresh air.
^^ "It's glorious outside," he said in a sudden vertigo.
" The harvest-moon is at its best ; it's splendid."

"Not moon-struck, Mr. Linnier" she returned in her
light, familiar way.

He affected to laugh; would she come and see? She
was an American, bred in social freedom, self-reliant, and
unafraid because habituated to the chivalry of gentlemen.
Following her Western ways, she did in Aberfourie as she
would have done in New York.

" If you like," she answered. In a kind of dizziness,
Rollo wrapped a cloak of silk and down about her
shoulders, and led her out.

»3S

A SON OF GAD

■:|

•'Too late for your moon. Mr. Linnie," she cried, lookinK
up into the glamorous obscurity of the night sky

"Do you mind very much?" he asked, steadyine hs
nerves,

"Not at all." was the reply. "Only I'd like to see a
H>gh and harvest moon in all her glory. How deliciously
fresh I she added, inhaling a long breath of meadow, pine
and cornfield.

The great tent was erected on the edge of a pasture
beside a hedge fragrant half the summer through with
honeysuckU.. From the dim heights above a larch wood
s reamed downward, dropping somewhere among the de-
chvities and hollows into birch and hazel, and spreading
ower still mto groups of gnaried oak, stretching almost to
he tent-roof. Connie looked into the mystic gloom, and
the spint of poetry and adventure stirred within her
"I wonder what's concealed up there," she said, with a

r H^L r.""''...," ^''^ ''"" ^ P^^P '"'° 'he darkness,"
she added, like a child tempted to peer into a pit

..ffTl'l""^'^ '"r"*^ "''" *^ '"PP'"8 ""O"'' to 'he-
nearest of the big oaks. He followed, scarcely daring to
believe it all true. His chance had come. The beauty
the great, the coveted heiress had invited him into the
secrecy of the woods alone with herself. What did it
mean? What could it mean but one clear thing? His
bram beat as beats the gamester's when fortune dangles a
great prize. A single point danced before him in a fiery
radmnce. He could have cried out. This very night, so
help him God, this very hour, he would cast the die. Thev
were alone, they two; she with her twenty millions, he with
his raging passion. Every pulse in his body was a battery
charging nerve and artery to an unbearable anguish of eager-
ness. She must not escape. Now or never, now or nTver
-he was withm an ace of saying it aloud. Now or never.
H J^^ .Pf ^,«1 ""der the shadow of a great hoar oak still
dense with leafage, she lightly, unsuspectingly curious; he

A PRECIPITATE LOVER 13,;

half delirious. All at once a chill struck her. " Ugh ! "
she cried. " It's cold and dark in here, and likely there
are dreadful creeping things about. Let's get back."

" A minute, please, Miss Ogilvie," he replied, with a gulp.
" One minute. I— I want to tell you something."

" Tell me out here in the open," she .said, moving off.

He sprang and caught her bare hand. She was surprised,
but neither dismayed nor disconcerted.

" Oh, Mr. Linnie," she said, " you must be unwell , your
hand simply bums. Come inside quick."

"You must not go," he answered, tightening his grip.
" You must not go."

"And why must I not go, pray?" she asked, affecting
a composure she did not feel.

"Because, Miss Ogilvie " He gulped for breath

like a choking man. " Because "

" Mr. Linnie, you really are ill," she cried. " It is not
good for you to be out. Come."

But she was not to escape like that. She made a move-
ment to go, and he drew her hastily back.

"You must not go," he said as if still struggling for
breath. " You must not go. I have something to say to
you, something to tell you. Yes "

And the pent-up passion broke bounds in a torrent. He
hardly knew what he said ; he knew not at all what he did.

" Let me go ! " she cried, making an effort to get free.
" I insist on your letting me go at once."

But his only answer was to draw her closer. In another
instant his arms were about her, and his face was bent
close to hers. She gave a panting cry, and struck upward
with her right hand.

" You coward ! " she gasped. " Oh, you coward, to take
advantage of a woman like this ! "

He reeled backward, his arms falling limp, and Connie
fled in a fury of anger.

I I'l;

! ''i:

CHAPTER XXXVII

A VITAL RECKONING

TT E saw her appear an instant in the hght of the tent,
1 1 and then flash out of sight-a swift vision of in-
dignation Stupefied and absolutely still, he gazed at the
fh?l °'^'^'=Wearance. In spite of a strange humming in
the head, he was vaguely conscious of silence-the pro-
found ommous silence which tells that the bolt has fallen
!t«nH t ' ""'"""^ '° ^' '" "'^ -"idst of ruins, to

What had he done? Was he mad? All at once by an in-
voluntary contraction of the muscles he gave a hard little
augh-a„ unearthly cackle as if some demon moved him
to ironical mirth over his own fall

"Damnation!" he cried, the profane word ringing in-
congruously m the stillness of the night

Turning at that, he strode towards the woods above as
If trying to escape from his humiliation, his dire, unutterable
folly. But as the moth to the candle, the undetected
cnnimal to the scene of his crime, he wheeled and came
back, a vehement longing upon him to know what was
gomg on inside the tent, what Miss Ogilvie was saying and
doing, to rush m defiantly lest any should dare to gloat
or sneer over his discomfiture. By heaven ! he would have
satis action out of any man who ventured by so much as
the turn of an eye to insult. The paralytic calm was
gone ; he was m a frenzy of wrath and resentment. As he
walked, planning vengeance, all at once a figure stepped
240

A VITAL RECKONING ^4,

out of the darkness and, standing directly in his path, spoke
taunting and sarcastic words that were as fuel to a raging
furnace. He flung out in a spasm of rage—

"This is the third time to-day you have insulted me, you
mfemal old ruffian," he cried. " Get out of my way, or I'll
kick you like the meddlesome cur you are."

The figure in front turned its head to the side. " Alick
just come and hold my pipes," it said, in a tone which
distinctly suggested gratification, and out of the night came
another figure, eagerly responsive, and took the pipes.
"Ye hard his words, Alick, 'Kick ye like the cur ye are.'
Yell bear witness if anything happens after such a temptine
of Providence."

With that, Ian Veg, for the reader has divined it was he,
took a step forward.

'I Now, whey-fuce, are you ready ? » he asked purposefully.

" You dare to address me like that ! " the outraged Rollo
cried, and sprang at his tempter.

It was dark, and save Ian himself, none knew quite how
It came about, but instead of bearing his antagonist down,
Rollo found himself full length on the grass.

"You'll better kick me," he cried, as Ian bent over
him. "It would be like you to strike when a man's
down."

"Like you, Mr. Rollo Linnie," retorted Ian, "and if you
wass up and me down it's in my mind that's what you'd be
doing. But some of us iss clean fighters. Get up."

Rollo rose, shook himself, seemed to draw away, turned
like a tiger and leaped. The onset carried Ian off his feet,
and both men rolled down a steep bank, locked in a deadly
embrace. At the bottom, Alick saw with glee, the old man
was uppermost.

^^ "That wass not friendly, Mr. Linnie," he heard Ian say,

and It must not happen again. We'll just keep a finger on

your thrapple. There, now, be quiet, or as sure's I'm

342

A SON OF GiD

living ye-ll never be laird of Teviot Hall, and that's a grand
place too. We've come to the time of settling accounts,
me and you. Thi- morning ye wanted to turn me out of
the grounds, ye stinking brock, and ye'd haf managed the
thing but for them that's not to be named with the like
of you."

lan's fingers insensibly pressed harder.

"You were great on the committee then; would you
like the committee to see you now? Or maybe it's Miss
Ogilvie ye'd like to ha,ve a look at you. Lie quiet I'm
telling you."

The pressure on Mr. Linnie's windpipe made him gurgle
as if choking. ^

" Ay, maybe ye'd like her to see you. By your way of it
I m a cur, and by her way of it you're a coward. Twice
over she called you a coward. That wass fine."

The man below writhed in a horrible convulsion.

"I've told you to be quiet if you want to be laird of
Teviot Hall," said Ian, « It's hardly worth a body's while
to be troubled licking you, though ye've had something
this night you'll mind for two days and a Sunday too.
Listen, and I'll tell you a wee secret, sir," continued Mr.
Mackem in a tone of mocking politeness. "Alick Ruah
and me saw and hard everything. And I will confess to
you I never liked Miss Ogilvie till this night. You had it
fair between the eyes, Mr. Linnie; I'm judging you see the
sparks flying yet."

Another horrible convulsion showed how the man below
was suffering.

" I'm proud of the lassie," Ian went on, adjusting his
hold, and placing a knee where it would be most serviceably
oppressive. " For, look you, all by herself she told you the
truth, naked from the hand of God. She said you are a
coward twice over, so that you would mind it in yer hours
of meditation. A coward, and that's as true as gospel of

i !

''She came herself, and,

A VITAL RECKONING 243

any man that would wheedle a lassie out into the woods at

night, and then try "

" It's a lie," croaked Linnie.
what's more, she invited me."

"Invited you!" retorted Ian. "Man, she had little to
do. But I'm thinking she was just mistaken in you like
other folk, and trusted to you being a gentleman and all
that, as she would trust Captain MacLean."

Rollo squirmed furiously; but he was held as in a vice.
"You just worked on her feelings, for I'll not deny you
haf the tongue of the serpent that tempted Eve. Every
lassie, rich or poor, bonny or no bonny, has her feelings
given by God Almighty Himself, and it's the way of lassies
to listen to things; Hut it iss never theway of a man that iss
half a man to do as you did, you crrion hawk. If she
mvited you out for a canty wee while by yourselves, how
ISS It she called you a coward, twice over? Because you
wouldn't come to the scratch, eh? You're a bonny lover,
a fine lover, a brave, gallant lover. 'Coward,' says she
'coward, coward,' and struck you in your false face for
laying hands on her."

"Damn you!" cried the man beneath fiercely, giving a
heave which sent Ian into the air.

But he recovered like a goat, and as a terrier at the throat
of a rat, he turned his man over and readjusted his grip.

"She struck you in your false face," repeated Ian, "and
If you don't take care I will be making it falser yet, ay, so
false that your old aunty will not know you, man."

" Let me up," cried Rollo. " I'll make you rue this."
_ "I'm ready to believe you'll try," was the response.
Vou ve the heart for it, I know that. Ye'd like to get me
under the flail. But before that chance comes to you,
Mr Limue, there's four things I want you to do-first, to
apologeese to me for your conduct thi. morning, which was
lair disgraceful; second, to apologeese for your conduct this

1 :ifir

»44 A SON OF GAD

evening, which is more disgraceful again; third, to swear
that if ever your gab gets going about this, you'll tell the
honest, downright truth, neither more or less; and fourth,
that you'll own you just made a common, scurvy, dirty
scoundrel of yourself, trying to play back-stair juckery-
packery with a lassie that's owre good for you."

Ian felt in his heart no call to play the champion for
Miss Ogilvie, but the chance fell in handily with his own
plans, and what was more to the point, plainly aggravated
the suffering of Rollo. ,

Cooled by the dewy ground and considerations of prudence
and helplessness, Mr. Linnie evinced a desire to discuss
terms and conditions.

" Let me up," he said, "and we'll see about it."
"Ill tell you a wee story," returned Ian. "Once a fox
that was hard set said to the hounds, ' If you turn your
heads the other way for half a minute I'll show you some-
thing you won't forget.' The hounds did as he wanted, and
when they looked again what d'ye think they saw? Just a
pair of clean heels. We'll be seeing about it as we are."

Since he was helpless and the other inexorable, Rollo,
with all his pride protesting, expressed regret for his
rudeness and arrogance of the morning in terms dictated by
Ian, repeating the formula for the offence of the evening,
and swore also, according to set form, that if ever he spoke
of the incident or its results to tell the truth and nothing
but the truth. Over "the back-stair juckery-packery," as
Mr. Mackem called it, he squirmed fearfully.

"Ian Veg," he cried, in an anguish that would have
touched most hearts, but had no effect on lan's, except
perhaps to harden it, "I swear to you on my word of
honour."

"Indeed, you needn't be troubling, Mr. Linnie," Ian
replied, indicating with a snort what he thought of the
proffered security. Nevertheless, remembering Rollo's

A VITAL RECKONING 145

abject surrender in the more personal matters, made openly
and aloud in the presence of Alick, who might be expected
to mention the thing in confidence to friends here and
there— being mollified, that is to say, by a personal triumph-
he presently allowed RoUo to rise.

"You have done a dirty trick," were Mr. Linnie's first
words, and they were hissed with exceeding venom.

" I wouldn't go so fast if I wass you, Mr. Linnie," Ian
responded meaningly.

Rollo picked up his hat and swung on his heel, muttering
imprecations, but he had not gone three strides when he
turned and came back.

"Ian," he said in a tone of mingled appeal and bravado,
"let bygones be bygones. You've been winner. You're
welcome to all the satisfaction you can derive from the
victory, but I ask you as a man to keep it to yourself."

And he passed a silver coin into lan's hand.

"What's this, sir?" asked Ian, holding it towards the
light.

"Something to drink my health with," Linnie answered,
with an assumption of goodwill.

"I am not sure how that would look," Ian rejoined
thoughtfully. " If it's to be a money transaction, as the
saying goes, half a croon's on the scrimpit side. Besides
Alick's in the secret, and he's glibber in the tongue nor me."

"Oh, confound it!" cried Rollo irritably. "Clean me
out. You should have put your hand in my pocket when
you had me down."

"I should haf given that tongue of yours a twist," was
the retort. " It's forgot its mainners already."

" Never mind manners," Linnie cried; " I want this kept
quiet. How much do you think will shut your mouth ? "

"This is a day of great things," Ian responded calmly.
I would think the bittie rag apiece." ♦
• A one-pound Scotch bank-note is often called in Gaelic "the rag."

246

A SON OF GAD

RoUo groaned inwardly.

" What ? " he cried. " A sovereign each ? "

"About that," said Ian, winking invisibly at Alick.

RoUo felt his pockets and produced £1 i^s.

Ian reached for the money.

"That leaves the two half<roons short," he said, counting
like a money-lender. " We'll say ye'll pay another time."

" You know the bargain," said Rollo bitterly.

"Fine," answered Ian. "Fin., and you'll not forget
what's owing, Mr. Linriie."

Without replying, Rollo plunged into the darkness
behind the tent, and next minute Ian heard the violent
cHck of a gate and the sound of hurried footsteps on the
road.

"Well, Alick Ruah," he said, with great content, in their
mother-tongue, "two pounds more for Dunveagle."

CHAPTER XXXVIII

CONNIE GIVES A LESSON IN CHIVALRY

SOME hours later, in the thick blackness that heralds
the dawn, the Dunveagle coach, rolling homeward with
a yawning load, was passed by a horseman riding furiously,
his face low down on the horse's mane. The rumble of
wheels, the rhythmic hoof-beats of the four blacks, and
the drowsy approaches of sleep, all helped to drown the
clatter of the pursuer, and it was not until he dashed, a
momentary apparition, into the glare of the lamps that
those on the coach were roused.

As the startled leaders swerved Jeff called out in a half
gasp of fright, " Why, it's Linnie, RoUo Linnie."

"Surely not," responded Mr. Ogilvie. "Linnie would
have spoken ; that man is riding as if for life."

" Reckon it was Linnie all right," Job Shilbeck observed
from the front seat.

"Then something must be wrong," said Mr. Ogilvie.
" But why in the name of v/onder didn't he speak ? "

"Like to ketch him up, sah?" the coachman asked,
turning a gleaming face.

" If it's safe. Bibbs," answered his master. " But take
great care; these roads are not made for racing."

"All right, sah," Bibbs returned, gathering the reins a
little tighter. The long whip went out with the crackle of
musketry, and the four blacks leaped exuUing to the traces.
Three miles they had their heads and a level road; but they
never got sight or sound of the desperate nag in front. It
247

I- il

*48 A SON OF GAD

had gone into the night with what frenzy of madness only
one on the coach could guess.

At the avenue gate, in obedience to an order, Bibbs
drew up, and all listened intently. But the only sounds were
the dismal s.ghmg of elm and chestnut, and the fretful
murmur of the Veagle in its rock-slrewn channel. Connie's
^r was pamfully strained, and Connie's blood ran cold at
the thoughts excited by that glimpse of a distraught horse-
man m the lamplights. What if he were found on the
morrow mangled and dead in a ditch? What if he lost
his seat and were dragged to a horrible death by a
rnaddened horse? What if in his insanity he commiited
suicide, with hideous circumstances implicating others?
Ugh! why couldn't men have sense?
" You are cold, dear," Kitty whispered. " You shiver."
Did I shiver ? " returned Connie. '■ It's always cold in
the dawn, or perhaps someone walked on my grave "

"You may go on, Bibbs," said Mr. Ogilvie. "We'll
probably have news in the morning."

The morning brought no news; but next day there
came a letter to Miss Ogilvie, which she read behind the
locked door of her own room. It was a letter of burn-
ing contrition, of abject self-abasement. The writer had
offended heinously, but he explained, as Adam must once
have explained to Eve, that he couldn't help it, that he had
been swept out of his senses by i^. frantic adoration. He
prostrated himself at her feet, threw himself on her mercv

T) K° ?^^ *"" *•"" °^ ^^' °*" distracting loveliness. To
that he had succumbed, with the unfortunate results she
knew. Would she forgive? Nay, she must forgive, could
not help forgiving-because she was an angel. And let her
consider what she was asked to pardon him for : nothing, on
the honour of a gentleman, but a blind indication how he
adored. If that was the unforgivable sin, then he was
doomed She could punish him as she liked; but before
heaven he could not help his transgression.

CONNIE GIVES A LESSON IN CHIVALRY 149
Twice in a giddy turmoil of head and heart she read the
letter. Then after a turn or two to compose her thoughts
she began a reply which had to be scored, and altered, and
recast many times before it expressed her sentiments. In
the end this is how it stood : —

" UuNVEAGLE Castle, Friday.
" Dear Mr. Linnie,— I have read your letter with feel-
ings which I need not attempt to describe. When a man
behaves ill to a woman, I am not at all sure that it is
in the least intumbent on her to accept an apology, wipe
out the offence, and allow the old relations to be resumed.
In fact, they cannot be resumed with the old sense of trust
and freedom. For an element has come in that chills like
a December wind, or, worse still, scorches like a fire ; and
this though both sides honestly try to forget the past. It
is one of the tragic things of life that a person cannot go
wrong and draw back, and proceed as if no false step
had been made. The false step means a deflection, a bias
that can never be wholly overcome or set right.

" When you praise me it is very hard to turn a deaf ear.
I am a woman and like praise as a child loves toys. The
good word of men is the breath of life to us women. Heaven
help us, God made us so. Yes, Mr. Linnie, we love your
approbation of our little gifts and graces ; but please do not
imagine that because we listen to flattery we perceive a
lover in everything clothed after the manner of a man. We
would always fain see the friend ; the other I think Heaven
chooses for us, and he comes and takes possession as by
right divine. But he does not seize with violence. Had
Mr. Linnie known or remembered this, I should not now
be writing this letter.

" I note and take into account differences between some
codes of the o!.1 world and the new. In my country girls
mingle freely with boys. Time passes, and the girls grown
to women still mingle freely with the boys grown to men.

i,!i

»So A SON OF GAD

■Hiere are no restrictions as here, as if men and women
should be muzzled like mad dogs, or fettered like straying
horses. And therein I count my country fortunate ; therein
I see elements of greatness and graciousness because of
equality. For I cannot but think it ill with a nation when
Its young men and women cannot be comrades and friends.
In my country the result of social union is that it is the
pride and glory of man to honour and protect woman.
From her earliest youth the American woman is accustomed
to chivalry in men. Shq takes it almost as a birthright, and
receiving it every day of her life, she looks to man as to
one hardier and stronger than herself, and honourable in
proportion to his strength.

" You perceive what I mean and my reason for saying it.
An American gentleman getting or making the opportunity
would not have done the thing for which Mr. Linnie is now
m sackcloth and ashes. I know British gentlemen who
would not either. Let me be plain, for we Americans like
frankness. What did you do ? Finding me in your power,
you sought to overwhelm me with professions which I did
not expect, which I did not encourage, which I did not
desire; nay, you even laid hands on me, using your strength
to compel me to your will. Was that chivalry ? I trusted
you as a friend rooted in honour, and— but I dare not give
your conduct a name. Oh, Mr. Linnie, it is much more
dreadful than you think when a woman finds herself
mistaken in a man.

" But I must stop. As to forgiveness, I dislike the office.
You may come to Dunveagle as you have done hitherto,
with the reservations which good sense will suggest, for I
should wish your indiscretion and my disappointment to be
kept pnvate. I wish it were possible to forget an almost
incredible piece of folly and presumption.

" Yours, with sincere regrets,

" Constance Ogilvie."

CONNIE GIVES A LESSON IN CHIVALRY ,5,

Having finished, she carefully read thi letter. Studied
in the ebb of passion it seemed severe, for she had written
m a glow of indignation. Besides, she had not only to
chastise Linnie, she had to defend herself, lest by any
licence of imagination he might construe good nature as
Cause and excuse for making himself ;r barbarian. Hence
the ardent account of the social code of America. That
was true, and she swelled agreeably 3t the thought that
It was also a stroke for her country.

It was not in her disposition to scold, still less to pose
as a moralist improving the occasion when she got an
unlucky sinner squirming on her hook. But Mr. Linnie
had behaved abominably, intolerably, and she owed it to
herself, to her father, ay, and vicariously to her country-
women, to vindicate her position. She must prove to
Linnie that she would not run when he chose to beckon ;
indeed, the implication that she was ready to capituhte at
his demand hurt her most of all.

"If that were my game," she said to herself in a flash
of anger, "Mr. Rollo Linnie is hardly the man who would
be honoured."

He deserved condign punishment, and he should have
It. In the end, however, she decided to take Kitty into
her confidence, and the pair held an animated council
of war.

"There's something I want to consult you about, dear,"
Connie said in some embarrassment, and as the best mode
of explanation, produced RoUo's letter. Kitty read it,
with amazement in every feature of her face.

"Con," she cried, "this looks serious. But I don't
understand. Tell me."

Connie briefly stated the facts.

" I'll tell Jeff," Kitty said, with decision. " He'll horse-
whip the fellow, and that's better than he deserves."

" No, dear," Connie replied anxiously. " We must have

;;

1 ' I

i-! i

»S» A SON OF OAD

no scandals. Remember, we're not in New York. Here
the thing would be out as if beacons blazed to announce it
And somehow, Kitty darling, you can't rub the dirt of a
Kandal off quite clean. Something sticks, and the whiter
the mark the more conspicuous the blot. No, we must
take other means. Please tell me what you think of
tnsL

And she put the reply into Kitty's hand. Kitty took it
m, as it were, in a gulp.

" First rate ! " she exclaimed. " First rate ! It's worse
than a flogging. Your little lance is deadlier than my
horsewhip. If anything would or could make him feel
mean, and grovel, and skulk, it's that. I never knew you
could write so well."

"If indignation can make poets, why not letter-writers
also? Connie laughed. "You may suppose I was very
angry."

" I should just think you were ! " Kitty cried. " And as
to the writing, dear, forgive me. I ought to have remem-
bered you took all the EngUsh prizes at college, including
composition. But then we always wrote about things that
didn't interest us a bit. This is a sort of thing one would
sit up half a night over. And you've done it splendidly-
just splendidly— cuts like steel, a beautiful piece of mental
surgery. First you probe, and then drop in your acid, that
bums like fun; and it's all so naturally and neatly done.
That s what I admire. Besides, it's not only a dose that'll
make Rollo Linnie contort, but a lovely essay on American
chivalry. There, I must kiss you for that eulogy of the
American man. He's a perfect darling. I think half the
men m Europe still believe women are inferior beings, to
be divided into two great classes-slaves and pUythings.
If I were to marry over here "

" As Countess of Ardvenmore," put in Connie.

"Con, how can you?" demanded Kitty.

■' not

. 'ill.

I'JIv hr

.id

Till

CONNIE OrVKS A LESSON IN CHIVALRY 153

" I think that for a lord Kinluifj's a very good fellow,"
Connie returned.

" Oh, good enough ! " owned Kitty, as if one i
expect murh of a lord. " He'd never do what I. i
hut you've given the fool a dressing down."
" You don't think it too severe? "
"Severe? Tarring and feathering woii!d h.i
justice. What would Jeff say ? "

"This is absolutely between ourselves, Kit," Con ii<.
anxiously. "You won't tell anyone? It's not v
JefTs notice,"

" Dori't fear, I won't tell. But what would Jeff say ?
I guess it would be a case of shooting at first sight, letting
daylight— I believe that's the phrase— into the contrite
Linnie. You've done better. That's tip-top, and it'll go just
as it is ; and what is more, I'll see it posted, for you might
rue, and then our brave Rollo would go without his deserts."
She turned to the window, stood a moment looking out,
the sealed letter in her hand, and wheeled back, her face in
a ripple of merriment.

"You have told me something. Con," she said; "now
I have something to tell you. Don't be shocked, for
indeed it's too ridiculous."
A light of intelligence came into Connie's face.
"Kinluig hasn't been proposing already, Kit?" she said.
" I think the epidemic's in the air."

" I think it is," Kitty assented, with a little laugh. " But
you haven't hit the mark. Kinluig's a very cautious sort
of a young person, besides being a gentleman and a peer
—with a mamma to look after him. No, dear, Kinluig
hasn't proposed anything of consequence in this quarter
yet; but Miss Linnie the elder, Rollo's charming and
honoured aunt, is under the laburnum proposing to your
father. There now, don't look so shocked; you'd laugh
if you saw her."

I il

f 1;

I' t

^54 A SON OF GAD

And with mock dramatic action Kitty recited :—
" My aunt, my dear unmarried aunt,
Long years have o'er her flown.
Yet still she strains the aching clasp
That binds her virgin xone.
I know it hurts her, yet she looks
As cheerful as she can.
Her waist is ampler than her life,
For life is but a span."

" Kit," cried Connie, " yo ire cruel."
"Poor old thing, if she could but shed thirty years"
Kitty replied. "Her eiforts to recapture youth are posi-
tively tragic. Every time she smiles a concourse of wrinkles
gathers m mockery, as if to prove that all the flirting and
coquetry of five-and-fifty won't rout them. Con, think of
her waist; would the most daring masculine arm displ. v ;.s
littleness against that vast circumference ? "

"Kit," repeated Connie, "you certainly are cruel. Let
us go and witness the attack."

When they reached the laburnum Miss Linnie was des-
cantmg on the woe-begone aspect of her nephew.

"I veritably believe," said Miss Linnie, with conviction,
as she smiled upon the young ladies-" I veritably believe
the poor fellow is in love. He has all the symptoms."

CHAPTER XXXIX

SHILBECK GIVES BRITONS A TIP

ROLLO took his punishment in a very characteristic
fashion, that is to say with outward signs of penitence
and dejection, and an inward resolution not to be cast
down. Thinking him mortified by shame, Connie, despite
her provocation, was disposed to pity; but in truth what
she attributed to wounds of honour was in reality due to
the failure of a soaring ambition.

For weeks Mr. Linnie had lived and moved in a
rapturous trance, that vision of twenty millions dazzling
his weak sight. By day he thought of it; by night he
dreamed of it, and day and night he devised plans, made
resolutions. At Teviot Hall there was much to spur his
ambition, had spurring been needed. He looked round
and discerned a thousand half-concealed marks of poverty ;
he thought of his own pleasure and discovered a thousand
obstructions. They would all disappear if the right lips
could be induced to utter just one short word. And why
shouldn't they speak the right word ? Mr. Linnie looked
m the glass and beheld as good a man as any he knew,
a figure that fashion made her own, an air of distinction,
indubitable proofs of breeding; what more could any
woman in her senses desire? Turning to the other side,
why shouldn't he make the most of such qualiiies and
graces? Most men, he observed, climb to fortune by a
long and tedious ladder, and many fall and are pushed
oft" and crushed in the attempt to ascend, lo the wise
255

»S6

A SON OF GAD

I' %

: f

and daring matrimony presents itself as a sort of patent
elevator— quick, easy, safe, and sure, which shoots the
happy man up from among the struggling crowd. More-
over, quoth Rollo the cynic and sophist to Rollo the
lover and mercenary, why do American girls come to
Europe but for husbands ? He ran over a list of decayed
aristocrats, who had re-established themselves for ever as
men of fortune and votaries of pleasure by capturing stray
American heiresses. He knew none who needed an heiress
more urgently than himself. Wherefore, putting on a bold
front, he returned to Dunveagle, and was received with
a courtesy which made him doubt whether he had really
given offence at all. What if Miss Ogilvie's letter of
chastisement were a ruse, or the mere artful fencing of
one who, while convention-bound to make a defence, is
really longing to surrender? Mr. Linnie knew, or divined,
or had heard that women are deep and sly in their
methods.

"Poor beggars," he reflected, half pityingly, "they have
to wait until they're asked" (his good aunt had waited forty
years without losing hope) ; "and then there's a ridiculous
etiquette or pride that keeps a woman, except in the last
extremity, from jumping at the man she wants. I'll not
mount the white feather yet, no, not just yet."

He walked, of course, with extreme circumspection, but
he felt more and more that Miss Ogilvie had not been
.uite so angry as she pretended. At any rate, she gave no
hint of a breach . and Miss Dunbar too was agreeable, if
sometimes disposed to laugh unaccountably, an effect of
mere girlish frivolity.

In the midst uf than; plans and meditations he was one
day startled by the news, received first hand, that Mr.
Shilbeck had completed arrangements for returning to New
York. In a quick tremor of fear Rollo asked if he were
going alone.

SHILBECK GIVES BRITONS A TIP ,57

" No," answered Job ; " Jeff and his sister are going with
me. They reckon it'll be mighty dull here when the fall
rains and mists come on. Besides, Jeff's gettin' kind of
tired causin' accidents with his motor, and of course
Miss Dunbar'll be wanted in Noo York."

"Oh," said Rollo blankly.

" Yes, sir, Miss Dunbar is as necessary to a Noo York
season as the sun to a summer day. You ain't got any idea
of the sort of girl she is at home in Noo York. Nat'rilly,
you understand, she don't show her paces here ; ain't nothin'
to pace for, as ye might say ; but you see her in Noo York,
why, sir, a gold bond certificate ain't in it. You should
just see the Britishers that cross the herrin'-pond to teach
us manners followin' her about, and trippin' over each other
to get introductions to her. Say," added Job, with a comic
twist of the countenance, " young Lord Kinluig was pretty
sweet t'other day, wasn't he ? "

"Oh, was he?" said Rollo, with portentous indifference.

"You may bet on it," returned Job, "and what's more
he's been here since with Captain MacLean, and I reckon,
quietly between you and me, Kitty had on her best smile
for the occasion. There was some talk of Lord Kinluig
visitin' America, jestin' like and all in earnest, you under-
stand ; and Kitty 'peared to take her breath a bit at the id<.a
of a lord followin' in her tracks. But I didn't gather,"
continued Job, with a meaning expression, " that she was in
any way mad 'bout it, and I rather suspect your friend
Kinluig will be in Noo York 'fore he's many months older.
»Vhy, Mr. Linnie," he exclaimed in quick surprise, "have
you been takin' something that don't agree with you ? "

" Me ? I'm all right," Rollo answered, feeling himself a
livid green.

"I thought maybe something had upset you," said Job ;
" lobster salad or such. I du-ssn't ►r-.-jrh !.ob=t"- sa'--d —i-se!''
for fear of the gripes.

1 lost 3 jig deal once through eatin'

158 A SON OF GAD

lobatt:r salad, and you don't ketch me hoein' that row
again. But about Kinluig, I expect to see him in Noo
York in the course of the season. I don't know why titles
go down so well with Amurican girls ; but I do know,
Mr. Linnie, that if I was young and spry and tol'rable good

lookin' " He stopped suddenly, bending a (juizzical

look at his companion.

" And pray what would you do f " Polio asked, his arteries
beating under an assumed lightness,

" Do ?" repeated Job. "Well, I don't say I'd win; no,
I don't say that, but by the holy Jerusalem I'd have a good
look in."

RoUo was in an agony.

" A good took in ? * he echoed fatuously.

" Yes, sir," replied Mr. ShiMied ; "a good square look in.
" God dash it!" he cried, "why shoidd our Amurican dollars
always go to support empty titles ? It's not that I object to
Amurican capital comin' to Europe as part of the baggage
of an heiress, but what makes me sick is the valoo thafs
put on titles bf people callin' themselves democrats. I'm
for honest merit, Mr. Linnie, and if I saw a young man of
the right sort liitin' hi-: eyes to the gold and diamonds I'd
say, ' Good, sonny ; go in and win, and d the titles.' "

" But suppose a man wanted to marry money, as the
saying is," Rollo submitted, tingling all over; "that is,
supposing for the sake of argument, he could be mercenary
in such a matter, a title would be a great aid."

" Ondoubtedly," owned Job, "unless the girl was sensible ;
but I don't know that girls ever are sensible in fallin' m
love, as it's called, though in my experience there's mort
dickerin' than lovin'. They're always selecting tb*; wrong
man. The busiest court ip Amurica to-day is the 1/ orce
Court, because girls want to get rid of the men they've
married by mistake, and take others they fancy they"! Uk-'^
better. We've conveniences in that way that you ain't got

SHILBECK GIVES BRITONS A TIP 259

on this side. As to name - handles, there's people in
Amunca to-day that's mighty sorry our Constitootion
excloodes titles-girls 'specially, and I regret to say there's
some darned idjits of fathers that encourage the silliness."
At a chance question from Rollo, Job described how the
honest pleb-;ian American, the sturdy bourgeois with baggy
breeches and a love of plug tobacco, toils, often in shirt-
sleeves, to make money, and ever more money, that his
children may soar into a social paradise he has never
known himself. Sometimes, according to Mr. Shilbeck, he
deals in lard, sometimes in pork, sometimes in corn, some-
times in molasses; at other times he manipulates oil, builds
and runs railroads, or strikes into Wall Street ; but what-
ever the means, the aim is always the same— to buy his
children diamonds, yachts, racers, brown stone mansions,
and in lucky cases, titled European husbands. With the
last ambition Mr. Shilbeck pronounced himself exceedingly
sick. Rollo feared the mercenary Briton would cause him
equal nausea, but here Job showed uncommon charity.

" I ain't goin' to blame men for pickin' up wealth when
they can get it for the takin'," he said. "What I don't
understand is this : why do the likely young fellows of the
British Isles allow the nincompoops with titles to be always
on the win ? "

"You have given the reason yourself," answered Rollo,
wishing to heaven it were not true.

"Look here, Mr, Linnie," rejoined Shilbeck, with un-
wonted animation; "I have been lookin' into one or two
things since comin' to this side, and I've looked particularly
into your title-market, and what do I find ? "

'' I don't know, sir," Rollo returned, quivering all over.

" No, sir," Job went on, " you don't know. Nat'rilly you
don t. But I'm goin' to tell you. Perhaps you noticed,
Fi;rhap5 ,..u didn't, that I used the phrase title-market.
Vou don't use it here because you Britishers ain't always

■i =!

aSo A SON OF GAD

got the courage to be honest with yourselves. But the
thing exists all right ; yes, sir, the thing exists as real as
the Bank of England— which is 'bout the most real thing
you have— only not quite so open to the eye, maybe.
Well, sir, I've figured it out on information obtained, and
this is what I find— that for ten thousand pounds spent in
the right way you can have a knighthood, and twice as
much will make you a baronet. A peerage is slower and
dearer, but it too has its price."

Rollo saw himself a knight, a baronet, a peer.

"And if you wanted to buy, how would you go about
it ? " he asked, with unconscious eagerness.

"How'd I go about it?" responded Job. "I'll tell ye
how I'd go about it As a first step I'd go into politics ; as
a second step I'd combine politics and fashion, meanin' by
fashion the cult of the petticoat. Mark me, it's the in-
fluence of the drawin'-room and the boodor that gets a man
into oiBce in this country. Don't you forget to cultivate
the women-folk. As a third step I'd lay myself out for

fightin' doubtful constituencies for the party in power

that's always a payin' game. Providin' I win, there I am
ready to go head down with the Government; providin'
I lose, there's my claim— established. Then I'd subscribe
to party funds, and off and on to lashionable charities,
first keepin' back my name from the noospapers till they
had worked up a proper interest and excitement by guessing,
and then lettin' 'em have it plump."

"What do you mean by fashionable charities, Mr.
Shilbeck?" Rollo asked feverishly.

" That depends on cikumsUnces," replied Job astutely.
The same charities ain't always fashionable. If religion
was in the air, I'd help to huild churches and fit out
missionaries—that's always fetchin'. The noospapers talk
of it, deacons and managers pass resolootions thankin' you,
and passons orate Txjut yer broad-minded generosity and

SHILBECK G/VES BRITONS A TIP ,6i

zeal for humanity and all that. It's reckoned respecUble,
and that pays too. Then if some great folk happened to
be fussm' round with schemes for benefitin" the poor, I'd
dumpdown a cheque-that I reckon's as good biz as any."
What about sport ?"Rollo asked; " keeping racehorses,
for example. The English love horse-racing. "

"Maybe," Job replied slowly, "but I haven't observed
that It pays particular to go in for racehorses; no, I'm in-
clmed to thmk it don't pay, 'tain't respectable enough; on
the whole, I'd be disposed to keep to politics, fashion, and
chanues, and, sir, them that dispenses titles couldn't resist
me.

"There's only one thing lacking to make the reasoning
perfect," said Rollo. "Before a man can follow your
advice, he's got to have the £ s. d., the dollars, you know."
I was comin' to that," returned Job. "S'posin' a
young fellow was more'n or'nary in looks, and hadn't no
flies on him so to speak, poor and honest, you understand,
and hftm his eyes afar off, like the prodigal son, to
diamonds and dollars, as you say. Well, he'd go in sayin'
that, m case the thing was O.K., it was his intention later
on to procure a title for his beloved, that she being of the
same mind, they'd work together, and he was sure her help
would tell, and stuff of that sort. Girls, especially Amuri-
can girls, like to help. An Amurican girl's h.ad is just
humming with ideas as a rule, and if she cottoned to a
man she'd see him through, you bet. Of course, there's
differences in girls same as in men ; some like love pure
and sweet as honey from the comb; others like it with
gold fastenin's; others, again, with a kind of headgear that
ain t to be purchased in the United States. But generally
the right sort of girl likes to help."

Mr. Linnie was greatly heartened. Pluck and policy
would accompUsh anything, and he lacked neither. Al! at
once he remembered Jeff.

363

A SON OF GAD

"By the way," he said carelessly, while his heart
thumped, " since he is leaving, I suppose Mr. Dunbar has
completed that contract you once spoke of?"

Job smiled, then looked ginve, then turned his eyes
cautiously to make sure they wert jne.

" It's my opinion," he answer i: confidentially, " there's a
twist in the tackle that don't lei . run smooth."

"A hitch?" said RoUo, holding his breath.

" That's 'bout the size of it, I reckon," was the response.
" Mr. Linnie, look here. I like you, and I'll tell you some-
thing interesting, I rather fancy Jeff's goin' to take that
half-hoop of diamonds back to Noo York with him."

Mr. Shilbeck chuckled softly.

"And then, sir, I reckon old Giles Dunbar will do a
little stampin' ; yes, sir, I just reckon he will."

Mr. Shilbeck chuckled again, but Mr. Linnie was speech-

CHAPTER XL

PACKING THE HALF-HOOP OF DIAMONDS

MR. SHILBECK was right. The intellect trained in
the intrigues of New York and Washington easily
discerned something amiss in Mr. Dunbar's game. More-
over, he was fortunate in opportunities to mark and learn.
Unobserved and absolutely by accident, he one day came
upon Jeff and Connie on a seat among the shrubbery, so
intent on themselves, they had neither eye nor ear for soft
intruders. A delicate sense of fitness told Job that to
withdraw might disturb and startle them. So he remained
quietly concealed, with no intention of playing the eaves-
dropper, yet forced to listen, and what he heard interested
him profoundly.

" Ah ! " he said to himself, " reckon Jeff's got to business
at last."

In fact, Jeff was pressing with quite unwonted ardour a
matter of vital personal import, and his companion, a little
agitated and nervous, as Mr. Shilbeck made out, was
fencing with the ingenious perversity which wantonly mis-
understands and misinterprets.

Mr. Shilbeck admired the woman, but his sympathies
were certainly with the man.

" Pretty hard row to hoe, Jeff old man," he said to him-
self; "pretty hard."

A student of the subtler instincts of mankind, he was
amused by this combat of head and heart, this onset of the
roused emotion, and the light parryings with which the
263

264

A SON OF GAD

attacker was kept from closing. Jeff was apparently much
less delighted by the game of foil.

"Why, Con," Mr. Shilbeck heard him declare, "you almost
make me think you don't care for me. You do, indeed."

" Care lor you, Jeff?" was the response, made in a tone of
pained surprise and reproach. "How can you say that?
Haven't we played together and been friends ever since we
can remember? Haven't I always shown that I care for
you ? And— and I care for you now, Jeff. Oh, yes, I do."
"Well, then, why do y6u hold me off like this?" Jeff
demanded. " Why can't we settle it ? " And instinctively
Mr. Shilbeck bent his ear for the reply.

" Oh, well, you see," said Connie, with a catch of the
breath which did not escape the listener's notice, "be-
cause—because " She stopped, as if unable to finish.

"A woman's reason," thought Shilbeck, bending his ear
a little more. "Jeff, yer on a ticklish bit of ice."

" Because why. Con ? " Jeff asked in a tone of offence.
"There now," cried Connie, "you're angry, and youll
make me sorry we've talked like this at all."
Jeff was instantly at her feet.
" Got him on toast," reflected Job.
"I wouldn't make you sorry for ten thousand worlds,"
Jeff declared, with the extravagance of a lover.

"I knew you wouldn't," Connif! returned in prompt
approval, as if humouring a fractious child.

" But, Con, aren't we ? "

" Sh," and Job, putting his eye to a hole in the thicket,
saw that she had clapped a hand on the suppliant's mouth.
"There," she laughed, "it's nice to be as we are a little
while longer, dear, dear friends. I think I'm nervous
to-day. I'm sure I'd be frightened— if you went on as
you've been doing. I should indeed. And there's lots
and lots of time, isn't there, Jeff? There, I knew you
would be good. Come, I think Kitty's caUing."

Mr. Shilbeck, being obliged to retire in haste, neither

PACKING THE HALF-HOOP OF DIAMONDS 265

heard nor saw what followed ; but he had learned enough
to enable him to put luo and two together very effectively
and logically.

"I'd like to be present when old Giles Dunbar hears of
this," he said within himself, thinking the matter over.
"Giles counted Jeff had a dead sure thing. Talk of a
bear with a sore head ! Halleluiah ! " And in the fervour
of expecution, Mr. Shilbeck smoked vehemently.

Twenty minutes later he walked in casually on Jeff, who
was in shirt sleeves, packing, and it chanced that the case
containing the famous half-hoop of diamonds lay open on
a table.

Job took it up with an air of perfect innocence.
" You ain't packin' this, of course," he remarked.
Jeff lifted his head, looked searchingly at Job, strode
across the room and tried the door.

" Look here," he said, turning abruptly. " Between our-
selves, yes, I'm packing it."
Mr. Shilbeck laid down the case in astonishment.
" But I thought it was to be left behind," he said.
" So did I," returned Jeff, "but you were wrong and I was
wrong. Shilbeck, there are more things in heaven and
earth that it's possible to be wrong about than you suspect
until you try."

" But you don't mean "

"Yes, sir," Jeff interrupted, "I do. We both made a
mistake ; see ? Minds me of the old joke about putting
salt on a bird's tail ; seems the easist thing in the world—
until you try. Yes," said Mr. Dunbar, Uking the case and
thrustmg it into a corner of a portmanteau, " it's going right
m there for the present. Another time, you understand.
Another time."
" Postponed ? " Job ventured.
Jeff nodded.
"Fact is," he explained, "she don't cotton to the thing

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366

A SON OF GAD

just now — timid — afraid to take the jump. You know
what girls are."

" So," said Job, his eyes bent thoughtfully on the floor,
the goatee grasped firmly in his right hand. He was
thinking that if all tales were true most girls showed a
surprising readiness to take that particular jump.

" There ain't a hitch anywhere, I reckon ? " he asked.

"None," answered Jeff promptly; "none whatever. Just
timidity. Girls are so funny."

" Very funny," said Shilbeck.

" Told me she cared for me and all that," Jeff pursued.
" Guess I must come back again, that's all."

Job considerec. a moment and then said quietly, "Didn't
mention in any way she'd be a sister to you, did she ? "

" Sister ! " cried Jeff. " Shilbeck, are you dreaming ? "

"Girls are so funny when they're timid and afraid to
jump," returned Shilbeck ; " but I reckon if she didn't say
she wanted to be a sister to you it's all O.K."

Ke kept an admirably grave and innocent countenance.

Jeff's expression was inquisitive, suspicious, and decidedly
uneasy.

" I don't know that I much like it," he cried. " There,
that's honest. And I've an idea you smell a rat. Nobody
has ever found any sand in your eyes, Shilbeck. In any case
you know how matters stand. Tell me what you think."

Mr. Shilbeck gave his goatee a Httle tug absently, as if
lost in thought.

"Girls are mighty curious things," he answered, with
great deliberation. " They're just like an April day, when
you think they're goin' to shine they rain, and when ye
think they might rain they shine. Ye don't ketch me
puttin' my money on 'em ; no, siree. Now in the case
before us I reckon there ain't the smallest possibility of a
chance that any other fellow's snoopin' and nosin' round?
I put the question hypothetically, of course."

PACKING THE HALF-HOOP OF DIAMONDS 267

Jeff stared as if he saw an apparition.

" Great heavens ! Shilbeck," he cried, " what put that in
your head ? You know I wouldn't stand that. I'd assas-
sinate him right away. You don't imagine that Miss
Ogilvie ?"

Mr. Shil'oeck raised his hand.

" I don't imagine nothin'," he rejoined, " but you'll allow
that a nice girl like Coimie Ogilvie runnin' loose in Europe
here would be likely to attract attention."

" Do you mean to insinuate ? " Jeff demanded, suddenly
grown resentful and truculent.

" No, sir," Job answered quietly, " I don't insinuate.
That ain't my style, as you know. But we've got to look
at things fair and square, and if my friend Duncan Ogilvie's
daughter wasn't what you'd call a prize, I reckon my friend
Giles Dunbar's son wouldn't be rampagin' round Dunveagle.
That's as I figure it. Well, sir, d'ye think Mr. Jeff
Dunbar's fool enough to suppose he's the only man that's
got eyes for a girl ? No, sir ; he's too cute for that, or he
ain't his father's son. You put a first-class security on the
market, and what's the result ? A howlin' rush. You set a
nice, good-looking girl like Connie Ogilvie on a pedestal
of twenty-dollar gold pieces, and do you think only one
man in a crowd would see her good points? Shucks, Jeff
Dunbar, the man who thought that would be a patent,
compound-cylindered, ten-thousand horse-power idjit. All
I say is that it's as nat'ril as lyin' for men lo notice a nice
girl, and in Europe here I reckon there are some who don't
do anything else worth speakin' of."

" Oh, damit ! " cried Jeff impatiently. " I'd win against
them all."

"Of course," said Job; "of course, bein' an Amurican
with yer head on right side to the front. And yet I'm not
sure it's just what you'd call first-rate policy to be eternally
tootin' and snortin' in a motor with a man that don't know

268

A SON OF GAD

enough to speak plain English, never heedin' there's such a
thing as a petticoat about. No, I ain't at all sure that
it's first-class policy."

" Why, what do you mean, Shilbeck ? " Jeff asked, half in
fear, half in resentment.

" A girl's human, ain't she ? " returned Job. "A girl likes
to feel that folks go round thinkin' of her."

" Is it a question of heart or vanity ? " Jeff demanded
brusquely.

"Maybe it's heart, and maybe it's vanity," quoth Job
sapiently. " And maybe it's a mixture of both. But the
point is this, a girl's hurqan. I'm not sure Mr. Jeff Dunbar
has always remembered that elementary fact. What's the
consequence? He tries to rush business, and the girl's
scared."

"And would you advise me to stay and see it out?"
Jeff inquired purposefully.

"That mightn't look well," Job replied. " I reckon it'll
be all right, Jeff. I wouldn't take on 'bout it. If it's a time
limit give a time limit."

"Never fear," Jeff observed; "I'm not going to take
on about it. But I'm an American, Shilbeck. I'm an
American, and I hate like poison to fail."

"Nat'rilly," Job assented, "nat'rilly. That's the U.S.
style."

Jeff stood, one hand in his breeches pocket, the other
scratching his head

"Well," he remarked desperately, "all I can say is this,
some girl's got to wear that ring."

" Don't you go and upset the apple-cart by i .i
things," Job admonished. "Don't you be slingin' round
engagement rings ; it don't pay. No, sir, you don't, as a
rule, get satisfactory returns from that sort of speculation.
Have you ever been out on a moose-hunt ? "

"Moose-hunt?" echoed Jeff. "Of course I have —

PACKING THE HALF-HOOP OF DIAMONDS i6g

across the Canadian border there. But what's a moose-
hunt got to do with it ? "

" Havin' been on a moose-hunt," responded Mr. Shilbeck,
" you'll remember 'bout the care you took stalkin' yer game.
You didn't get to windward and shout and carry on. No,
sir, you lay low. Now, 'pears to me a girl's pretty much
like a moose. If she's a little shy, and ye want her badly,
ye've got to do yer stalkin' mighty careful. But it'll be
O. K. yet, Jeff," he broke off cheerfully. " I reckon she'll
jump all right. You ain't in the habit of 'lowin' yerself to
be beat."

" Shake hands," cried Jeff; " shake hands. That's the
best word you've said yet. No, by thunder! I'm not in the
habit of allowing myself to be beat."

At the same time another was revolving the same problem
in a different way, but to similar issues. Mr. RoUo Linnie
had no difficulty in convincing himself that Miss Ogilvie
was as eager t^ receive him back into favour as he was
to return. " .ly," he reflected, "I must be more careful
in future, more discreet— that's the word— more discreet.
I was too impetuous ; perhaps I overdrank myself. Girls
like boldness, but not too much boldness. Well, we'll be
more discreet next time."

If he misinterpreted Connie's goodwill, the mistake might
be fatal to his projects regarding Kitty, the more especially
since he distinctly recognised a rival in Kinluig. But no,
he could not be mistaken. Miss Ogilvie was glad to have
him back ; her letter was a sly little dodge to test him. He
was mightily encouraged by observing that she grew less
and less free with Captain MacLean. She was often silent
and embarrassed in his company. "In fact," reasoned
Mr. Linnie, " she sees through that arrant pretender, and is
getting sick and tired of him."

The effect of all this on the person principally concerned
was that she lived in some sort the life of a juggler, who
must keep so many balls spinning simultaneously in the air.

CHAPTER XLI

REALISED IDEALS

NOT long after the departure of the American visitors,
Captain MacLean had luncheon at the castle on the
special invitation of Mr. Ogilvie. The refection over, host
and guest retired by themselves to the library, and Norman
was aware of a peculiar, meaning expression in the million-
aire's face, a twinkle as of one who is quietly revolving a
secret.

"Shai; we smoke?" Mr. Ogilvie asked in his most
cordial manner. " Wholesome tobacco fumes will help to
keep the maggoti out of my daughter's bindings."

" Miss Ogilvie has gathered a fine collection, sir,' Norman
observed, glancing round.

"Yes," the host acknowledged. "There's a notion
abroad that women are absorbed in jewellery, lap-dogs,
perfumes, amusements, and frivolity generally. I don't
find it true of my daughter. Perhaps the American woman
is — what shall I say? — a little more eager in mind than her
cousin in Great Britain. But that's a mere impression and
may be quite wrong."

" I rather fancy it's right," returned Norman, the thought
of a particular example of bright American womanhood
carrying conviction.

" Well, perhaps so," said Mr. Ogilvie, smiling ; " but it
wasn't to talk of books or compare national characteristics
I suggested coming here."

With that he stepped into an inner room, unlocked a
270

REALISED IDEALS jj,

desk, and returned bearing in his hand a folded piece of
paper. Throwing himself into an armchair, he looked at
his guest with that enigmatic expression which Norman had
already noted.

"In asking the honour of your company at luncheon
to^y, Captain MacLcan,» he saic, " I may as well confess
I had ulterior purposes. We are all creatures of mixed
and sometimes dark motives. To be brief, I had a little
business to transact. Some time ago you were good
enough, or rather your father was good enough on your
behalf, to entrust me with a certain commission; and
I assure you nothing of the kind ever gave me more
genuine pleasure."
The captain bowed in turn, colouring perceptibly.
"Well, to save trouble, and also tn enable me to act
promptly in case of need, I made the investment in my
own name as agent or trustee. Naturally I selected securi-
ties that were well regarded, and I am glad to say expecta-
tions were more than fulfilled. At a certain point we sold
out, and now. Captain Maclean, I have the pleasure to
hand you a cheque for the proceeds," and he passed the
paper to the astonished Norman. "If you endorse it,
I think any bank in Aberfourie will probably hand you the
cash in exchange."

"I am totally unversed in the ways of business," Norman
stammered, less at ease than if he were charging a battery
in full blaze. "And I hardly know in what terms to
acknowledge yonr goodness, sir."

" If you will permit me, I will suggest means, Captain
MacLean," Mr. Ogilvie responded, "by not troubling
about it."

"That is the way of ingratitude," Norman rejoined,
crumpling the cheque like waste-paper, "and I cannot agree
to it, though indeed I'm utterly at a loss how to express
myself. We army men are not much exercised in speech."

■7»

A SON OF GAD

" An excellent thing too," remarked Mr. Ogilvie in great
good humour. "In the army, or out of it, give me the
doers, and anyone else is welcome to the talkers."

"Upon my word, sir," cried Norman, though by no
means ill pleased with a sentiment which he had himself
often expressed, "just at this moment I am disposed to
envy the talkers. My father spoke to me of your kindness,
but I had no idea what was coming of it."

"The result will not, I hope, be the less satisfactory on
that account," observed the millionaire affably.

"Satisfactory!" reputed Norman, unfolding the cheque.
" Why, sir," he exclaimed at sight of the figures, " this is
surely impossible j this is out of all hope or reason."

"Not quite impossible, since the thing's done," answered
Mr. Ogilvie, hugely enjoying the captain's amazement.
"But a very fair return on the investment, I venture to
think."

He did not say that he had simply transferred the stock
to himself at its highest market value and written a cheque
for the gross proceeds. To the trafficker in millions such
a transaction was not wr .h two minutes of golden time ;
yet he had a keener gratification in developing the little
scheme of surprise than in half a dozen gigantic successes.

" In any case," rejoined Norman, still struggling with
astonishment, " this must be much, very much more than
the amount invested."

He looked at the cheque again, as if to assure himself
his eyes were not deluded. For the little slip of paper
represented a larger ^um of money than he had ever before
handled or poss^-sed at one time, larger than he could hope
to save by years of rigid economy.

"A little more, perhaps," Mr. Ogilvie owned, smoking
quietly. " Occasionally, you know, one gets a chance."

" But rarely, sir, passes it on to another," said Norman.

Mr. Ogilvie sat up.

UKALISEU IDEALS ,.^

"I daresay not," returned Mr. OKilvie teniallv .. if

pardon „. for a personal il.ustralorhaM ' o pe :,:i

.gn.fica„ce whatever, if you and I were to knock fo

admittance together, it may be St. Peter would c^k t

kmdiy on me wuh my scrip as on you with your redVword

f.X=is^arSL7::rLd;5 --

of the f^ r 4T; X"e'r -br '"'"' °^ '"" ""^'"'^
No man sHommT. i "''""'''>' suggestive, terribly true.

remains fif ''' "'^'^ '" ""''''"'''' ^'''''^ ""'^ chance

rrrLddrtTvernrdr^""^ "'^'^'''"^-^""- -^

Hear that ring of 'dooT^o: te! tTorel'To Jd^th"

'74

A SON OF GAD

naze across the sea. "My God I" he cried suddenly, "what
thoughts must have tortured him."

"His mistake was," said Mr. Ogil.ie, "that he pushed
fortune too hard ; that like a jealous lover he wanted her all
to himself. For punishment she cast him on that desolate
isle of the sea, with a pufTed-up idiot for a jailer. But for
one glorious moment he had revenge. He died dreaming
that he was at the head of his victorious army. There for
an instant he got ll;e better of fortune, of the stupid jailer,
and the stupid British Government. They could not prevent
the dream of the dying Napoleon. Fortunately, most of
us have not Napoleon's climbing ardour, nor Napoleon's
talents. We do as we may or can like bees in a hive."

The captain inclined his head as at a too familiar truth.

" And you have probably noticed," Mr. Ogilvie observed,
"that the world's hosannas are rarely for the saints, until
the saints are dead. The best man I ever knew died in
Sing Sing prison; the worst I ever knew gave of his ill-
gotten gains to what are called philanthropic and religious
institutions, and as I gathered from the funeral sermon went
straight to Abraham's bosom. I fancy it's the irony of
these things that makes sceptics and pessimists. The un-
thinking mass, however, play the great game of Vanity Fair
as if they liked it ; and some of us being in can't get out.
What's the consequence ? Men of my own profession find
that if they're to live they must do a little .squeezing of
rivals, even as soldiers crush a foe; neither snivel, but —
and here, after describing a circle, I return to my point —
even the callous financier occasionally allows himself the
luxury of turning aside to pluck a rose, just for its perfume
and its dew. You perceive ? "

The captain's perception was quick enough, but his
tongue seemed miserably slow and clumsy in putting
mingled feelings into words. Mr. Ogilvie came politely tu
his relief.

ilEALISED IDEALS ,„

'Having carried through one small ti«n«ction to our
njv^ual satisfaction. Captain MacLean." n^S"-!;"
make one suggestion, and it's this. With men who ope«t
much m stocks ,t IS a rule to take fair profit, and reinvest
The outsider often forfeits both profit and capi47ty

bet point My advice would be to divide the proceeds
keeping half. say. and reinvesting the other. It wm aTrd

a~lr '"""" '° ""'^'="^''^- ^'^ °«- °f b-^-r
WhiUi Captain MacLean was endeavouring to express his
gratitude, fervently, but with no great measure ^ Tuenc;
the door opened and Miss Ogilvie walked in. PauZ
cunously she looked from one to the other in mute aZ2
for the intrus- She had known they were trthT
"vX;.^;^:^-- -— -'-He impu^lse'To
" I hope I'm not intruding." she said ; ■' I want .. book "

the room Captain Mar Lean was instantly by her side with
proffers of assistance in the part of librarian.

her'eyTs re^ht ^"" "''' ' '^""'•" ^"^ -*-««' '-'"«

Sh'^errT*"'"'"!"^"'' ''^'^Con.-her father remarked,
him'^ith a carl'^'' "'" "Pbraiding, and punished

"AfSr°"alI T'^' '^"^''" ^^ '^''^ '"^'""'"'"g blissfully.
^ Mer all. you re not responsible for the failings of your

un^ii: "'' '™'' ""''• '"'^"■•^S ""' '^•^ -'y ™de and

res'» "' ^'"'^^ ''■" °"' "^ ^-°- ^'d better go." he

Gracefully as a hawk in mid-air she wheeled bewin^

h.™ not to "n^md"; but he replied, gn^vely tLs dm^Xt

»l

176

A SON OF GAD

I >

I . i,
■ i: i;;

if the captain would excuse him he would despatch some
business which awaited him elsewhere.

"Perhaps," he remarked, as a I'arthian shot, "Captain
MacLean will help you to make up that piece of chaotic in-
stability called a woman's mind."

She hurled gay reproaches at the retreating figure, for
they were great chums, then shyly faced her companion.
As their eyes met, an electric shock passed through each.
Connie turned with burning cheeks to the bookcase.
"I'm very stupid to-day," she cried in a vexed tone.
" Please tell me wSat to read."

"There's enough here. Miss Ogilvie," Norman returned,
with singular gravity.

They ranged swiftly over editions dt luxe of authors
ancient and modem, grave and gay, a great company of
silent philosophers, wits, and story-tellers. But that day it
was impossible to fix the mind on books.

Happening to look from the window, Connie started as
one who is suddenly surprised, made a hasty excuse, and
ran off. Looking out in turn, Norman saw her whisking
Alick out of sight. A few minutes later Mr. Ogilvie found
him still gazing from the window as in a trance.

CHAPTER XLII

REVELATIONS

IT AVING feasted under the generous stimulus of the
ducJd '""^''^^P^' ^"<^ 1 valiant appetite. Alick was con

awaited hi. almo^tT. afdemj^ if he we'^ tS'LSff ^

knowted ' that ^M '" "' *• '""*"" '"' f°' 'he intuitive
knowledge that all young ,mals, and particularly younE
an mals m the shape of boys, are most plTam after feedinf
to the,r heart's content. She wondered, in her impaSce
why .t took him so long to eat, forgetti;g his c^S s'^'
that direction; when at last he appearedfrosy, and excL^

tete-i- ete. a smgu ar contrast of fine Uce and hodden grey
ty this t.me Alick had learned to look in Miss OeiMe^
face without feeling that the earth gaped unde hTm L
nesi lir T' '^"°"«' '° '""'' ''- -traordinary bright
iLblv 7^ '"'T '" ''""" Conversation'opened
agreeably with compliments to his own and lan's triVmoh
at he g,„„_ ^j ^ g^^^^, ^^^^^^^^^ ^^ plLureTof

radiated from the comers of Alick's mouth, then all at nnr»

.^dSir ut -- '"' '^"^^' -" ^ >-i~rr;

tonlThafaToSr '"" ""'II' ^"''"" ^'^^ Ogilvieasked in a
Oh, mem, he answered, struggling between contrition
277

Ill' '

»?8 A SON OF GAD

for bad manners and an inclination to break out again,
It was Ian and Mr. Linnie I was thinking of."
"That httle difference of theirs on the morning of the

games? "she suggested.

" Yes, mem, and the night too."

•'The night too?" she repeated, a new note in her voice.

fh vT'; ?^" '. "'^•" '^^ "'^ '''Sg^' *»' °f a", that's
he best fun,' he explained, lest the vernacular might be
lost on her. °

"Then you had fun at night, Alick," she said, keeping
her eyes on his face. V You see the disadvantage of being
awomaa Was there great fun at nirht?"

She was smiling so divinely that Alick's soul was puffed up.
Yes, mem," he cried, "and most of the fun was about
yourself too."

A boy is the bluntest of instruments when he chances to hit.
5>he gave a little start and held her breath.
"About me, Alick?"

"Yes, mem," he answered, his eyes dancing.
Connie's blood ran cold, but she maintained an ad-
mirable nerve.

"You must excuse my stupidity, Alick," she observed
sweetly, "but I don't understand."

Alick's heart was leaping so jubiUntly, he forgot the
prudence which Ian had so often inculcated with a stick.
Well mem, .t's this," he said. " lan's not what you'd
call friends with Mr. Linnie."

"And it is a serious thing of course to be out of favour
with Ian. What did Mr. Linnie do to offend him ? "

"Once when the laird was in trouble the Limiies were
bad to mm.

"And I suppose that whoever is bad to the laird is bad
to Ian.

"Yes, mem. And when Mr. Linnie was for putting
him out at the Games that day Ian was mad with rage ;

REVELATIONS 379

and Uuchie Duff- that's the old fiddler, mem -told
him mght was the time to settle accounts of that kind; so
it was done in the night."

Miss Ogilvie's interest was more intense than Alick
guessed. Her purpose with him was quite other than to
hear tales of brawls and unequivocal hatred; but on a
sudden, horrible suspicions were thrust upon her, and
these in turn brought a cold fear. She had assured herself
that the vast indifferent night had alone heard the in-
solence of Rollo Linnie. What if unsuspected eyes and
ears were about? She would fain have turned to other
concerns, but Alick that day had the spell of the ancient
manner, and when he spoke it seemed she could not
choose but hear. Her reputation was at stake; her
woman's curiosity on tiptoe. It would be a fine scandal
for Glenveagle and the glens and dales for fifty miles
around if Mr. Linnie's idiotic impertinence were known.
She hated him with a new fiery hatred. Why had she
not let Jeff or another horsewhip him? In that moment
she could have horsewhipped him herself.

"It was done in the night?" she repeated, forcing down
her agitation.
"Yes, mem."

She could see that Alick was mentally smacking his
hps. Was he moved by the mere boy's delight in fighting,
or was there damaging knowledge behind? She recalled
that distracted figure of a horseman dashing past in the
darkness. What did it all mean ?

"And I suppose there was great fun at the setthng of
accounts, Alick?" she remarked, toying with a lace hand-
kerchief. Alick's face took on a look of beatitude far
beyond the reach of a saint.

"Yes, mem," he answered, his voice ringing with glee.
" Gosh ! Ian gave it to him."

" You mean thrashed him ? " she asked in surprise.

28o

A SON OF GAD

!; how could
ing Ian had

' Alick

" Yes, mem, thrashed him."

"But Ian is old, while Mr. Linnie is you

Ian thrash him?" she returned, almost wi,

killed him.

"But you see, mem, Ian is awful with his nieves,
explained joyously.
"With his what?"

" His nieves, mem. This," and Alick held up a doubled
list.

"Oh, I see!" and Miss Ogilvie eased her mind with a
laugh.

From that point they got swiftly on confidential terms,
and Ahck told a tale which filled the listener with a
freezmg horror. He made no attempt to palliate; he
had a barbarian's indifference to feeling.

"You see, mem," he told her radiantly, "when you and
Mr. Lmme came out from the dancing Ian and me was
waiting in the dark. Lauchie Duff was to be there too,
but he wasn't fit."

"Wasn't fit?" she repeated mechanically, her breast like
a cauldron.

"No, mem. Lauchie whiles takes a drop too much, and
Ian had to put him to bed in a stable loft ; so we were just
by ourselves. When Ian saw the two of you he gripped my
arm and said wild like below his breath, -There he is, there's

7~. ''^ P""'^*' "P- "'' ^^5 ^ *»d «OTd, mem," he
explamed. " Sometimes when he's mad Ian uses bad words "
" Like the rest of us, Alick. Omit it and proceed."
Well, we watched you both going over to the wood,
and then there was a queer noise, as if you was angered,
mem Alick,' says Ian to me, ' listen ; as sure's death the
beast s making love to her.' That's what he said, mem "

furiousl ""*' '"^"'" '^'^ ^°""'^' ^" *""' P"''^' '^''"8

" Ian was awful mad, mem. • I'll dirk him,' says he in

quiet to me, ' and if you tell I'll dirk you too. The like of

28l

Wait a bit

REVELATIONS

him making love to any respectable lassie. „a„ a on
though; ,f she listens to him she can have him and
welcome; if not, Linnie's in for it this very night.' It was
pretty black under the trees." Alick proceeded eagerly,

but we saw him gripping you, mem, and then you slappinc
h.m m the face. 'See to that,' says Ian. 'Alick. that's
good, and we heard you telling him he was a coward
several times over. Ian said he never heard or saw any-
thmg th^t pleased him better."

"That was good of Ian," Connie said, not without some
smack of offence. But Alick, engrossed in his narrative,
held on.

•AliJw"' "T' .*^'*'' ^"" ™""'"S away, and waited.
Ahck, says Ian, 'we've got him now. The Lord, or the
devil, or somebody has delivered him into our hands '"

Connie lifted an admonishing forefinger.

"Alick," she cried, "you may tell your story, but you
mustn't be blasphemous." ^

"No, mem," Alick replied, in nowise daunted by a word
he did not understand. '■ ' We've got him.' says Ian, ' and
look you. that's the man who wanted to keep you from

hated Mr. Linme just as much as Ian. 'What's the ass's
colt going to do now ? ' says Ian. ' Is he going after her
do you thmk? ' But the man turned and went to the wS
walking quick 'It'll be better up there.' says Ian; 'we^n
do^aswe like,' but just then Mr. Limiie turned and came

spell"'"""""'""' ^'^''^''" '"'^ ^°'^"' '^^^'"S ^^'i^ i"
"Maybe that, mem," returned Alick. to whom the sug-
gestion was Greek. "When he came near enough Ian
stepped out in front of him. and said, 'How do you do,
Mr. L,^,e? It's been a trying kind of a day, sir.' and then
Mr^Lmnie cned out, 'It's you. is it, you spawn of Satan?'
And the next thing he was at lan's throat."

aSi

A SON OF GAD

In a bubbling glee he described the scuffle of the two
men, the feigned retreat of RoUo, and the fierce second
charge which carried both to the bottom of the steep
dechvity. Act by act, word by word, he recounted all that
ensued. When he told of lan's championship of herself
Conme flamed, whether with shame or gladness she could
not tell, but through all she listened with a painful intent-
ness. Rollo's forced apologies brought a break of laughter,
and a little thrill of admiration for Ian. It was beyond her
to understand how the old man had done it all, because she
did not know or forgot that hate and rage gave a tiger
strength. But the climax of surprise came at the end, and
for a moment lifted her beyond all thought of self.

"And you had a little jollification of your own, I sup-
pose," she said when Alick described how Rollo had cleared
his pockets under the coercion of the inexorable Ian.

" No, mem," Alick answered quickly. " It was all for the
laird, and that was why Ian made him pay."
She scrutinised his face with marvelling eyes.
" You mean to tell me you kept nothing for yourselves?"
" No, mem, not a penny."

Connie felt as if she were discovering new provinces of
human nature; at the same time it reminded her of the real
business of the interview.

Alick had thrice been entrusted with a delicate mission
on the laird's behalf, and she waited anxiously for his report.
He was able I. tell her that her contributions had been
added to the little store according to instructions, omitting,
however, to mention that his honorarium went with the rest.
"That's good, Alick," she said, smiling her loveliest.
" And of course," she added radiantly, " none but ourselves
knows."

Alick flushed guiltily, and Miss Ogilvie asked in alarm—
"Does anyone know? Quick, tell me; does anyone
know ? "

REVELATIONS ,33

Alick's lips and throat had never before been so dry out
he managed somehow to articulate- ^'

" ^^s> "lem, somebody knows."

M tuTdnV'h '[ '■''"■" ^'°'" ""^^^ ''y '^^ "^'ve roots.
1 couldn t help ,t, mem," he pleaded ; '■ as sure's death

JrsTS V''" "• '"''=" ' '^■^^ P""'"g '" theroney the
first time Ian came on me."

"Mu^ianfn '"P!?"^^'" ^ P-^^'on of mortification.

and tdlt anrufit."^""^ ^"'' ^^'='^"""«' «" ''°-

in SrhT! """"'"^ ''"'' peremptory now, and Alick obeyed
f ^h a tremor as even Ian could not inspire. ^

r«n Z1^ ""'"' '^^ '^'^' °" ''^™g *". "'^i" this man, this
Ian o the universal scent, hold his tongue, do you thi^k ?' '

Ahck gave vehement assurances of lan's good faith
statmg reasons for the interference ^ '

"He thought." said Alick, with a forced laueh "he

e* The;! r "t"^ ""'-''' **^^" ' «- -^^ °- of
"InLdT" ''" * " ""^ ^^ ""^ ''"f"' S'^d-"

"Yes, mem. And when he knew about y. T,em he

said It was grand-and " ^ ' ^

Alick drew up as if among quaking bogs.
"And what? "she demanded.

his'frie^i"" """ '"''^'^' "'° ^'^ "'^ '*"'*''' «end was
^^Assuredly she was coming upon new provinces of human

" Thank you," she said. " It seems Ian and I were con-
federates without knowing if vv„ii
the position TK ,'"^ "• ^^«"' "'e must reconsider

you are not' J V- ° 'u°°' "'"^ -""'^ ''' P^^''^"'- 'hat
you are not to mention what has passed now to anyone
alive, not even to Ian. Remember." °* '° «>y°"e

And Ahck gave his word of honour.

ll * i

CHAPTER XLIII

A PEEP FROM BEHIND CURTAINS
TIE was dismissed with yet another token of con-

chief and confederafp t-„ Tr„ , . """urcu nis

lovaltv to aTo!f u ^' ^°' '"^e'erate, invincible

loyalty to a lost cause, but wished with some deeree of
fervour they could execute their schemes of hefp and
vengeance without involving her. ^

bac?ilth? '^'=T'?'^'^"""'"S "'^''^""y- »he turned
tack mto the room, her face all at once fallen to a wistful

w ndow T ' t '°''- '"'' '«"' "P ^ position b7h

„ ij i^ ^ • *"° "ere was a matter whirh

could not be put into a letter.

"What a vexing tangle," she thought, "and all through
the meddlesome idiocy of other people " ^

good by stealth, but the p.an ts?f:il et GlX e"
where ^ very truth every good and evil thing camSo

2'-, .y""'' '''' '""^ '° do? Cut the Gordian knot oTher
difficult! s or try to untie it ?

Before she could formulate her thoughts the sound of
284

A PEEP FROM BEHIND CUHTAINS ,85

footsteps on the gravel outside reached her ear, and slip-
P.ng behind silken draperies she saw her fither and
Norman pass ,n close, animated conversation. \Vhat were

hmg. If Captam MacLean had never entered her life all
Sr^T"™' "°"''' "°' ""''' ^'""'^ "^"her. Did she wish

he at the7> ''" .'""' ^ '"' '''^"'^' «^-^d through
her at the traitorous thought. Is there not a pain that is

the essence of joy? Go back on herself? No, never

however entanglements might threaten

J^LTu'""" "^T""^ °" '° ^" ^"g'« '" 'he castle
Trh 1 „"'P' '""""^ '° ■''^^P '^'"^ in view, taking
Tt Jrc "^" ^"-"^'^ '" -- 'hey should turn aLruptly'
At the comer they paused, making a half turn, so that si e

deepened his habuual sadness of expression. That surely
w« no the conventional soldier face, hard with the inso^
lence of brute force and the trade of slaughtering. It was
strong and m a fury she could imagine it .ribfe; but it
characteristic quality was the sensitiveness vh.ch comes of

oh verr\ " T""" "''"'y '=°"'^S'^= ""d she knew,
oh yes, she knew that with all its power it was caressingW
tender. But why was he so hauntingly sad? Was it
because of the rude cruelty of fortune? Or because-but
hat guess she durst not name. With the hot blood surg-
ng mto her face she blew him an invisible kiss. Oh, if
things were di/rerent-if women could make the desire of
their hearts known without being gossiped ab .ut, jeered at,
and misunderstood ! Or if the right man '.ad but the wi
to speak the right word at the right mom.at '

of L^?""'lf ^"^"^ ^'°'" ^"""'^'' '■^«' ^"d 'he suggestion
of pathos deepened. It was the sadness lying on tha"
coun^nance like a grey pal. on a June sky' wW^h r

TLl' :"'"'''• ^'"^ "^'^ '" ^'='=°""t for if re-
membered the blood of the Celt flowed in his veins and

386

A SON OF GAD

read her Renan and others on the Celtic race,, pursuing
endless myths and legends through the regions of antique
time, and ever circling swiftly back to the point of

stororh- '7 '' '^ '" ^""^ ""^^ °"' 'he lantic
and behold! her ,deal man, the conqueror, the woman's
Idol. And now, as she had just learned, his furlough was
near an end, and he was going away.

The two passed out of sight, and there fell on Connie an
appallmg sense of loneliness. Then as thought took wing
her emotions burned afresh. She pressed her hands to her
eyes to ease the ache and throb behind; then as at a
sudden recollection she took from her pocket a letter which
she began to read, the fingers that held it trembling. It was
dated New York, signed " Jeff," and was to this effect :-

I was more of a straight up and down fool than my
wors enemy would believe when with you at Dunveagle
But us a fact we never know our privileges until we lose
them. I blame the motor. It was a new toy. and-but

could take a hatchet and smash the thing up. That's how
I feel New York is as gay as ever. I have looked round
the clubs, and the fellows were howling glad to see me.
Some of them congratulated me on the happiness which is
not mme If they had kicked me I think I'd have felt
better. I have done three first nights at the theatres, and
flung a bouquet at a prima-donna who was as withered as
sheepskm under her paint, besides doing six dinners in
different places. But it's no good. Everything is out of
jomt. The pater, too. wanted to know what I had been
domg in Europe and said things that are not pleasant to
remember. In fact. Con, I am right down miserable I
want you. Say I may go back by the next steamer and
put this nng, that's burning a hole in my heart, where it
ought to be. I want you here. I want you to take your

A PEEP FROM BEHIND CURTAINS ,87
proper place in society, which is first place in the first city
in the world. Come back and don't be moping among the
peat-bogs. I'll hate Dunveagle if you stay there any
longer." '

For Jeff the epistle was passionate, but the writer was not
so absorbed in the main purpose as to forget all else
Connie learned that Lord Kinluig had written seriously
about a visit to America; "and," added Jeff, " Kit has ever
smce beei, granting interviews to milliners and dressmakers
no faith tailors, European style. Suppose you come out
with kinluig. You can't possibly think of missing the
season here. Everybody is asking when you are to return."
bhe turned this letter over curiously, reread the heading,
the signature, certain passages of appeal. Was that the sort
of letter somebody would write if he had a similar favour to
ask? She could not think so. Yet Jeff was as good as the
best of his kind, and assuredly one of the prizes of New
York. It would be delicious to reign in that brilliant court
she knew so well, to set the fashion, to glitter in and out, the
cynosure and envy of a gilded multitude-yet— yet-

" Oh, Brignall banks are fresh and ikir.
And Greta woods are green.
I'd rather rove with Edmund there
Than reign our English queen."

A tap came to the door, and a servant announced that the
Misses Linnie, aunt and niece, were in the drawing-room.

She found the two beaming in sultry geniality on Mrs
Ogilvie, who was apologising for a dulness due to headache
tonme played hostess under a feeling of revolt, thought of
the arts of hypocrites and self-seekers, and when tea was
brought mischievously proposed to invite the gentlemen.

Well see how spinsters of five-and-fifty conduct their
wooing," she reflected, "and show that some they affect to
despise are honoured and welcome here."

Instead of sending a message she ran out herself, and

288

A SON OF GAD

111

presently returned in triumph, bringing Captain MacUan
and her father.

For the sprightliness and antiquated grace of Miss Jemima
m greeting Mr. Ogilvie she was prepared. "Desperate
cases need desperate courage," she remarked mentally; and
the good Aunt Jemima had reached the point when action
must be unequivocal. Sweet and twenty may be coy and
capncous; but five-and-fifty. or by'r lady some ten years
less, must, to succeed, be as direct and resolute in the
quest of a husband as besiegers about a fortress. The
reception of Norman was less sultry, and Connie, noting the
mce distmction made, steeled herself for conduct that
should not be misunderstood. If these bland pretenders
dared by word, look, or manner to insult, as surely as she
was an American they would be punished. The captain
was hardly seated when Mrs. Ogilvie, with an old woman's
tact, announced that he was about to leave them.

"I think he's very unkind," she said, nodding reproach-
fully at Norman.

The Misses Linnie turned heads and eyes stiffly, as if the
machinery being rusty and out of gear were hard to work
and bestowed on him an icy look.

"Oh, really !■' said Aunt Jemima. " I daresay he finds
little in the Glen to interest him now. Things are so much
changed."

Connie took a quick sip of tea to drown a fiery retort in
the birth, for she read the innuendo plainly.

"You ancient vixen," she remarked to herself, looking
over the cup nm at Jemima's unctuous face. " I daresay he
doesn't find you interesting, anyway."

"The Glen was always interesting to me," the captain
replied, turning his straight military eyes on Miss Linnie,
and was never more interesting than now."
"Good," thought Connie, glancing at Aunt Jemima; but
that serene ind amiable lady was unruffled.

A PEEP FROM BEHIND CURTAINS s^,

"Soldiers." put in Mr. Ogilvie, "must be where their
country needs them."

"And I'm sure they wouldn't wish to be anywhere else "
rejomed h.s mother, the Highland spirit warming within

what's llrtSn^'f" '''''"' ^" ^-"^ ^•■" ^f-' ^''^y f-8et

Norman hastened to assure her she was mistaken, and as
was his way furnished concrete proofs.
__ "I remember once in India. Mrs. Ogi'vie." he told htr.
when the enemy's guns were actually playing on us.
overhearing the two best soldiers in the regiment in i
imle private talk at the bottom of a ditch. 'Peter.' said
one, five years ago this very day you and me was drinkin'
oorsels fou thegether in Scotland.' 'Man Bob, I was
just thmkm' of it when ye spoke, and wishin' to God we
were dnnkm' oorsels fou there the now. Destroyin' the

o' a sMl."^ *°"'' ^'"^ ^" ^''^'' '^"''' '^' "'^''"'^
There was a peal of laughter; but immediately Miss
Grace remarked in her frostiest manner. "I wouldn't like
to have anyone belonging to .ne in the army."

" Wouldn't you ? " answered the captain urbanely. « Un-
fortunately we cannot all occupy easy-chairs at home."

I'd S. » ^r^ in Connie, "if I were a man I think
1 a be a soldier. It's splendid."

It was the first time the sentiment occurred to her. but
.t w^ expressed with all the force of a long-cherished ideal.

remark^ "^"^^^ ""^ "''"^' ^°"'" ^^' ''""'cr

wil'T"^" ^^ '°'^' ""'""S enigmatically, shook hands
with the visitors, and carried Norman off to the billiard-
room They were hardly gone when a horseman clattered

si^n rr"V"'' "'"' ■"'""'" ^'- R°"° Linnie, much
spattered from hard riding, was announced.

CHAPTER XLIV

ROLLO DISCHARGES A DEBT

WHEN he rode away some hours later he was
flushed and in choler, the reasons being chiefly
these. Once rid of his aunt and sister, Connie must needs
share the fun in the billiard-room, and RoUo, who had
challenged the captain, was maddened to observe that
her interest was for his opponent's play. The fellow was
too evidently worming himself into favour, and RoUo's
business was to humiliate him and reap laurels by the
same stroke. But nerves excited by malice and wine, a
luck that was infernal, and that something else yet worse
worked together for discomfiture.

In truth he came ill prepared for the task. That day
he had been recklessly sociable in Aberfourie, and riding
home with a hot mind bethought him of a plan of action.
Jeff' Dunbar luckily was out of the way, the rejected half-
hoop of diamonds doubtless searinp his heart That was
one point to the good. Against it, however, had to be
put the othei point that Kitty was also gone, thus reducing
chances and rendering it imperative to make the utmost
of what rem-\ined. By the bountifulness of fat, what
lemained was best by the odds of two to one. Shilbeck's
words concerning the whole pile and the divided were
a delectable refrain in Mr. Linnie's eats. "Twenty
milUons undivided, twenty millions undivided," his good
angel chanted. "RoUo, my boy, go in and win. You
deserve it, you're young, you're plucky. You're a man
390

HOLLO DISCHARGES A DEBT

«»ii. ocrew up your courage and at it "

pfw-ipitate, in too great a haotn .„ „i . l

XTt' : r.^.r^-'' r- He irju ir

;jat the 0;nv:r.::/e;TLuroTew'^--^^^^
the au.ho,?ty Kr Job "4^^'''"' '"'^"'^ "■""°"'- ""

anyt:tetvTThrc:;,r? "'°"«'"' '"^ '"-'• -'««

that faint heart Lt^rt^IISy" '" '^'"' '^^"--

with a yet soure fL T ^ '' "'■""' *"""«• ^ext, and

Wen. thT ~o Td •ha':etnrb?t ^'t '^'"^-
•r he fared ill at Rollo-sJLZt ^ '"""'' '° ""-
connyVt™:j:,P^nitS';^^mnie had diligently

without hesitationfor Instam !f ' '^''' ^"^ '*^''^'^'*

resolution he dilount d and Sr "'«'• '^'"' "''''
-th this resolution rmarid7pi\r;° *• '^'" ^
m top-boots and routed Mc! "P°" '•>« ^rawij ;-room
resolution steeTcd ^dled h^""' 'f T'"'' *"» this
to humiliate Norm^ '°"«'" "'^ W"iard-room

hav?'Xn -Tft'Thetlr "k^ "'"^^ ^''''' -hild would
scoring. He b htslio h' V'\ ' "^''"'^ ^°""^ "°' help
It is cWeSa ^r Adt^f^^^^
■nstmct is to sei^e his club and slrik^ RoIM « P'"''' "''
about the cue, but where they achtd t ^ T" *"'
opponent's throat. t ' be was about hi.

29» A SON OF GAD

Refreshments came in, and he drank greedily, but the
liquid was as oil to fire. His hand became so tremulous
that more than once he had to pause on his stroke to take
breath, a circumstance which incensed him the more; and
no one looking on was surprised when at length the cue
tore through the cloth. He turned away with an exclama-
tion of disgust.

" I can't play to-night," he cried, and had just sufficient
presence of mind to express regret to Mr. Ogilvie.

The millionaire smiled genially.

"The best of hands will shake at times, Mr. Linnie," he
said. "Besides, thei-e are worse misfortunes than a cut
cloth."

Divining the effect of his presence on Rollo, Norman
would have left, but Connie contrived to detain him, and
Mr. Linnie went first.

VengefuUy disappointed and bitter, he rode into the
night. He was baffled now, but not beaten; not beaten,
he repeated, waving his whip in air and bringing it down
cruelly on his horse's flank. Would he could bring it down
on MacLean's head. He would bring down something
heavier, ay, very much heavier. Opportunity was not yet
exhausted. In this flaming mind he reached the avenue
gate, and spying a man outside in the road, called more
peremptorily than he knew, "Hi, come here, will you, and
open this gate for me."

The figure swung round, cocked its head, put its hands
in its pockets, and sniggered.

"Maybe you'll just try the plan of opening it yerself,
Mr. Linnie," it answered.

In the darkness Rollo could not recognise the face, but

the voice was unmistakable. Jerking his horse angrily' into

position, he stooped, pulled the gate open, and passed

through to devote his attention to the figure in the road.

"It's you," he hissed. "I might have known you

HOLLO DISCHARGES A DEBT ,„

wouldn t obliee m*. " o„j j '^

strike with hf whj. ^' "''^ '^ '"°"°" « '^ ^^ ™ea„t to

IhafL'Sn'tSl'S; ".T''\'l""'« "Sht there, sir.
adfe°iV'"''' " "'"'^ "'^ '™°P" *° <='eave an

« Will vn,. K T ^°" '^^'<='^« •"°re."

weresaying^hltlS;;'."^^ ""' °" -"^ '°- ^ou

wh7;:: reS.-'"' ""'^^'^•" "^--^ l-- "That.

best of heads bufkVV ^^'^ "''"' ^'^"''' ^^» 'he

cmck wouW ;ot ik v?r "'•' '°"« "''"^ "•'--«"d -
head alone, sir." "^ ™'"'°"' "■ ^^ y°"'" J"»' 'et the

Lil'T™ *° '^"P ^ ^-' '-g- in it, then," retorted

-gl" ^n'gu^d'" thth if '™^ "°^'"='^''' ^-. ''-P-
I might try But I 1 m ■ /°" '"'^^ '° '^°^ ""= 'he way

If 'he truth wiCot al^aj: t2 ^n ""T '■" ""= ''""••
"Take care " .rf JT ^ • ''"■ "^ "'^' '"X fault?"

"Take care "VoTrtfr"' '*-""''"« '°"^"'' '™-'-"y-
'hanyou expecf" '"'' "^'^ '•'*^'-' ''' ^-""d quicker

M:SL ^^rir ^-- -.-. - 'hinkin.

--^^^:^^r;ftrr^--een

394

A SON OF GAD

lit '

" Because if you and me wass to come to grips "

"Grips!" repeated RoUo, "grips! Do you think I'd
dirty my hands coming to grips with you ? "

" A little while ago you wass not so anxious to keep them
clean," was the cool response. " Maybe you wass too far
gone. A man is not always able to mind when he's sober
w!:at he did in drink."

" Mackem," cried the man above, bending again, " a ve a
very good mind to teach your tongue some manners."

" Indeed, it's not worth your while, sir," was the answer.
" There's just the two half-croons atween us, and if you'll
be paying I'll be jogging, for I'm on the laird's business,
aid you know he wass never good at the waiting. If youll
not be paying I just wanted to mention Alick wass saying
he would not fash himself holding in any longer. And
it's just come to this, Mr. Linnie, that we can make shift to
do without the half-croons if you make shift to do with
the clyping."

The man on the horse thrust his hand into his pocket,
brought forth two half-crowns, and flung them at Ian.

" There," he cried, " there's your money."

" Wass it in the bargain that I wass to search for them in
the dark ? " Ian asked, moving neither hand nor foot.

" Ugh, you turn my stomach ! " RoUo answered, throwing
himself from his horse. He struck a match, picked up the
coins, and put them into lan's hand.

"Does that satisfy you?" he demanded ferociously.
" And now listen — if red-head or you ever say a word of all
this, as sure's the sky's above you'll rue it ! You hear?"

" I'm not deef, Mr. Linnie," Ian responded quietly, turn-
ing to go his way. Half an instant RoUo gazed after him
in a blazing anger, then scrambled into the saddle and rode
off at a gallop.

CHAPTER XLV

AN ENCOUNTER IN THE NIGHT

jyjEANWHILE Norman followed Rollo leisurely, his
J.V1. thoughts w.th thos>. whom he had just left.
Conme was the last to shake har^ds with him and he
fancied the delicate fingers trembled in his own. But he
rnust not build castles in Spain. Presently he would have
the distractions of duty, and in the interval there must be

dLpSrn;.'""'""^- ^''' '■'' '^^ ^'«™ -^

Behind, little as he guessed it, Connie was in a feverish
perturbation Making an excuse as soon as he was gone.

Hke TthL h r/°°"?- ^ """"'^ '^'" ^^^ ^'°>' ""'
rianr! ^ ^""^"'^ '^'^ ''°'''«'' ^"'^ ^^^^ ^ Amorous
glance round lest anyone should be spying, walked swiftly
in the direction which Norman had taken.

"What am I doing?" she asked herself fearfully, and
womanhke ran on without trying to answer. Her quick
eye had marked the malignancy of Rollo's face, and her
h art suggested terrible possibilities. As she kne^ he h^

ofh?r ■""'!: ™'"'' '""^ ^"''^"<^ baffled h^pe, sS
old herself, might well move to a madness of out^e on
suspected rivals. She had heard of such things; thTshe
thought her fears ridiculous. '■ As if Ae couldn't take dre
of himself after all he's seen and done," she thoughr "X
but suppose an assassin's hand were to strike in the dark '•

295

'9^ A SON OF GAD

„nn" J\^T°'^ °^ """'^'y a" at once she heard voices and

st.ll. A note of anger signified an altercation, a..d she ran

dLinT" J.' "°-'^ "" "'■S''^'' ^"^ "^-^d 'he voice
d. mctly and knew u. "My God!" she gasped, "they've
met. They've met." And she was right

Havmg galloped half a mile as i' the chariot of death
were at h.s heels, Rollo abruptly drew rein, whirled a
second m vengeful thought, turned, --nd rode back as
funously as he had gone, blind as a mad beast for revenge.
Ten mmutes afterwards Norman, walking quietly home-
ward, descned a solid blackness in the com'paratL 5t

ml .?.' T" ^'"PP'"^ '"' b^«" observation, he
made out the figure of a horse, and beside it a man-Lth
motionless Suspecting an accident, he hurried on. in-
qumng as he approached if anything were wrong. Rollo's

aS,r '' '"' '" ''"^' ^° '^ ^^ -"''' --'y

lan7''« "'S^ht^s fine " he answered, with a hard cackie of a
augh, "and I fancied I might take the air without ques-

m.HHl f 'T' °"' "^"""^ ^° ^^«" 'hat without the
meddling of interlopers."

The retort was both a rebuke and a challenge. Norman

accepted the first; the second he could afford to disregard

I am sorry for interrupting you," he said apologetically.

an^mlghttir. ' '-' ''-'' ^°" ''' "^^ ^ -^<^-
He was passing on, but the other stepped in his way.

pl-..ed If I were hurt," returned Rollo, his eyes gleaming
hke a cat's in the dark. ^ coming

a Jin'Lt-''"?""" '"' "'''^"'' '^'''''''•" '^J°'"^d Norman,
again making to pass.

. '',\°1r """ ^'^^' """"y '° ''"^'' ^«'ay. aren't you?"
said Rollo, maintaining his minatory attitude. " If practice

AN ENCOUNTER IN THE NIGHT ,„

Trfir ^'^^'' ?" °"^'" ^^ "''" '™« '° "^ » """ster of the
art of sneaking, for you've been doing it pretty hard of late."
It was a brutal insult, meant to sting and provoke.
andZyTV'^T'^'^ ""' '^" "^^ tightLingof'Z le
for vln. k"^ u'P °' ''" °'"^'«^'^ '"°°d *hich makes

duedto' h 'k ^". '"""«' '■="* '°"S -nee been sub-
fepM- '" ' ' " ^"" "■'"' ^"^'" "elf-possession he
" Mr. Linnie, you forget yourself."
"Oh, del?" retorted Linnie, condensing every species
of affront and contumely in his tone. " Perhaps, thl ^
teach me how to remember myself again. The pre ent i
always the best time. We're alone; begin the lesson."

the h^Sr^i''^ '-'" ^'°"' ''' '^^' "-• -'^ «-« " "Pon

abi?S'v''" ""^ u''' '"^P""'^' ""^'^ "^ "» "^y profit-
ably mmd h,s own business. I camaot account for the
honour you have done me in waiting thus, nor am I in the
least disposed to put you to the trouble of telling me."
But 111 oblige you without the asking," replied RoUo,

b ndTth H ;f •^"^'°"- "P-h^'P'' yo" think I 2
blind to the studied insults you put upon me this evening •

e:i'tL'°" '""" '^^"'' ^^- ^°- ■"^^-> i-o'enc
every time we've met lately. Perhaps "

"I'm not a roadside brawler, Mr. Limiie." Norman struck
;« unmlLT"' ''" ^°" "^ '"^ ^"""S-^ '° '^' -
RoZnTwird.'"'' '" ^ ''"'^ °^ ^•'^^ ' "^'"^ °f ^-."

"I'amltll' ''"' 'r"*^" '° "^ '^°"'^''-'' ^''■'l Norman.
Make way... ''^'' ^°"' °^'™°" "' '°' ^°"' '^"'"P^"^-

,, " °~~ ^°" ' " '="«'• ^°"o. in a hoarse fury. " It was
always the way of the beggarly MacLcans to L ups ttlj
and msolent to their betters." H-ci'ing

agS

A SON OF GAD

Connie who had crept to within thirty yards in the

t^Z: "t'"^' '"=*''* ""^ '=™^' -"'•I", ''"d panted to
brand the speaker as a liar. i~> «i lu

■; Why does Norman endure it?" she asked herself.
cowaldT ' ""' "'^''' •"■" °" "'^ spot-the-the

ht he?f H 1 ^"P'"'" '''*'=^"" "^ ''^"«> '° keep
his head and h.s temper in a crisis. Even when taunted
^empted, and stung in open malice, he saw clear as "oon

fr^om r \'°/'' '™ "'='°'y- I' -'^ -possible

wTth Chan " n^"'"' '™^ '° ^"^^^e in night brawU

with chance quarrellers, and Rollo knew it.

"Let me pass on ! " Norman demanded again, this time
more peremptorily.
"Oh, I'm not nearly dona with you yet," was the

ITTc ,7. 'r"' '^'' ^'^"^'^ »>- ---^ I "esi

L™ ^ "'"f"* '°"^ ^'""^ '^°" ^'f™"' '"^ be Juse
you want to curry favour with Miss Ogilvie-as if she would
care a snap of the fingers about a pauper like you. She
^lerat^ you out of charity, and in her heart daises you
as much as I do. There's a truth to think over."

twen^ iM";"' '"'' " ''' ■"'""'"'^' •" "'^'^^''"^^''

From her hiding-place Connie could discern the figures

of the two men acmg each other. A great pain, such as

al;nsf«r",lf 'u''""' "^' '"'^'''"g '^-' -d she leaned
agamst a tree-bole, her hand pressed to her heart What
would happen next?

"You have taken it on yourself to introduce a name
wh^ch must not be bandied or soiled in any squabble of
ours, she heard Norman say.

AN ENCOUNTER IN THE NIGHT ,„

scaSy'^' l^^' '" ''^ ""' "^'^'^ "" "">•- -"W

" Oh, you're on that tack, are you ? " Rollo cried. " Well

Jf^you want an excuse, take it. I give you leave; I Z

He drew back a step, crouching like a tiger.
Were m private grounds," Norman reminded him.
Sid™' e^'ly remedied," Rollo rejoined. "Come out-
side, come anywhere. I'll go with you among your bare
crags where you're at home. Come-I challenge you."
«o, returned Norman, "I won't"
"You won't?"
"No."

won'f you r "' "'"' °" "' "'"'' ^"'"8 o"'- ^nd why

"Because." answered Norman, his voice ringing-" because
if I began I should kill you." "ccause

"l7So 7°"' '^~ <=°"="''" Rollo cried in a frenzy,
you /S2 r' """'L°" "^'"^ °«*'^^'^ '^•^^•f. 1 give

Connie could endure no more. In a blaze of anger and

mis Lh "^''^' '°^"'' '""^ "''"^ °f "^
w^ bv N„ ""'" 7" ^™""^"«°"^'y- Next instant she
was by Norman's side. He was holding the whip which

He staggered back, muttering incoherent apologies,
grounds. t^r^'^-^P^^^^P'-'y- "Vou are in private

en™.hT' '""""^ ^'' ^°''^ ^^' ^ '"^" '^"hout strength
enough to mount, and Connie turned to Norman.

l-i

CHAPTER XLVI

NEW YORK-THE EVERLASTING LESSON
0^onnH"l!"*f'° ^" *^""°'"^'y haunts, Mr. Shilbeck

die young," was the^ic L^ ^'1' '", "=" '^^'"
Hiram'll make things hum yel" '" ""''' ^^'' '''^■

wiS'^Sr^s^S-tt'^Tr^-

was mostly i„ ,he i„Terests of nth , .' ''""""'"«

stoppedalment ^ZS^tL^:'^': 'T''''

began'to Mupon him" """"'' ^^'^"''^'"^ly there
Befideshishan/la'rThrtJ^^ °' '"'^"'^'P-

Should S'S ^hisTre. "" '"^^^' ™ '^''^ ''^
300

NEW YORK-THE EVERLASTING LESSON 301
It is the ambition of every true son of the Republic to
hve or die a m.llionaire-preferably to live, but at any rate,
living or dead, to be reckoned among the owners of
m. 1,0ns; and no man breathing was more loyal to the
nationa .deal th.n Mr. Hiram Brash. The time, happily,
was ull of encouragement. He looked round and Jh)
men far less worthy than himself enjoying the magic glory,
movmg m the mag,c circle. He clenched his massive righi
fist, a fist that had greased waggon wheels and was not

would ' '°°' ^""''^ ^"^ ^"'^ ''°'''' '""^ ^^ "'""''^' ''«

As for Mr. Giles Dunbar, he had already done what few
men, kmgs or financiers, are able to do in a baffling world
-he had outstripped youthful dreams and aspirations.
Golden possibilities develop and increase as civilisation
grows In Mr. Dunbar's youth what Mr. Dunbar had
actually accomplished would have been accounted as

£ r^v!^ t n '"'• ^" '^"''"8 *"h Mr. Rollo Linnie,
Mr. Snilbeck had put the Dunbar millions at twenty, but a
senous estimate would have multiplied that figure by three
and left a snug fortune of loose change. But give a man
a county, and he aspires to a state; confer a state, and
he pines for a continent Giles Dunbar had performed
marvels beyond imagination in the day of small things;
yet there were still very dear objects to be achieved. For
asit is the Ideal of every level-headed American to make
nis pile more quickly and splendidly than anybody else
so It IS his final desire to lound off by founding and con-
solidating a family, that is by freeing it for ever from the
plebeian contact of trade and commerce. Mr. Dunbar was
now vigorously engaged in the great enterprise of adding
a permanent member to the aristocracy of wealth which is
the pnde of America, and the envy of the whole Christian

r, M ^^^u ^°'''" ^°'"'8""" P'''^ ^' i' ^d sometimes,
M Mr. Shilbeck remarked, carry off considerable portions

■if J

1^ 1

^' A SON OF GAD

fomU the nrn^pOT mUcieni i but ic cl«iiic«l ,h., k:

=' "..in,, i,^ „„ ,1 J^^ ^'„*' -""

" 5"' V "'y •»* I always hear
lime s winged chariot hurryine near.
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity."

He started like otie rudely shocked while taking his ea,P
tml-a^H h "'°"f \'^^ding the lines again; "yesTt^

ie, which thouZ7^i£f """ """" ""•''''"' '^'"i*

eveX~„' ?^JSJ ti^oT^gotr^ ''^'?
knee had come back in th;!^'i. ^ r^ . ' •"' '"°"'"^
What was the mS^^ ofit 5?^°. ^ Tt^ •'°"'-
Mr. Ogilvie talk of ^X^,, ^^.^f 3^^ {.e' '"'*='

S;rirStT:Ln^rrf^^'

heart as with fingers of ic^ °"^'' *='""=*'^'' »^«

".X^sil^S? ""^^^tS,,? "'^ <?^ -"." •'^
/ Kou strive for a generation, and just

NEW YORK-THE EVERLASTING LESSON 303
M you succeea, lie down and turn away from the whole
«how as if it didn't matter the tos, of a f^her" I^
stmcfvely he looked round the gorgeous room. "Yes. t^"
all very strange." »es, its

Kitty's entrance broke his train of reflection. The figure
of the hurrymg chariot remained with him. not for sen ^
mental revcrze or moral deduction, but as an incS
to .nake haste. All men-millionaires and beggars!
go down mto the unlighted darkness; and fofhl Id
t.me .ould not be far ofl". But before the grim nurfe
appeared, imperatively beckoning on the stair, som^ t^Z
of a far-reachmg. practical import had to be done.

of^her' R "!,"'' '^''^PP°'"'«'J *"h the course of some
of them Ready to grant his children any indulgence
which might promote their social interests, to pay fo the"
P ««ure what kings and princes could not affo^f he^iade

and profit by opportur,.ty. Now Jeff had gone to Europe
ostensibly for purposes of travel, in reality' to consolida^
he family interest on a well-planned base, and came S
unsuccessful He might and did glo^e but the pWn
EngUsh of it was failure, and failure was the oi^e moS

There had been a hot scene, as Jeff hinted in the letter we
have read and the father had closed the interview wiTh

roirr." ''- "-^^ ^'''' ' --'-^ - - p'-^'

inl"n'^f'!f ^'■- ^^^^'^ '^^ °''''8«^ '° hurry to Wash-
mgton but he returned to New York as quickly as might

be. and immediately made his familiar way down among fhe
hlT""^- r'/'^^^'°" °' ^*» Street. Smoking pSly

with formahty. walked straight in upon his friend D™bar
Xhe very man I wanted to see." Dunbar "

'Looking O.K.. too. W

ell. and how's Europe ? '

I heartily.

304

A SON OF GAD

Europe, sir?" atwwered Mr. Shilbeck, Mating himwlf.
Europe » bout played out. I've come back, feelin' better
dijposed than ever towards the U-nited States. I tell you
It's the country." '

" So ? " said Dunbar. " And how's Ogilvie ? "
"Spry as usual," replied Job laconically.
" And his place ? Very pretty, I'm told."
"That's accordin" to taste," said Mr. Shilbeck "It
wouldn't suit you, and it wouldn't suit me. Castle, I reckon,
dates from the Flood; antiquarian ain't the word for it
though Ogilvie has pulled it about and added and restored
a good deal. If, diimped down in a hollow beside some
runnm water, and the woods crowd round it so's you can
only see the sky and some mountain tops. I felt all the
time as if there wasn't air enough for the lungs."

"Ah," said Dunbar "H.pend upon it, it's the women-
folk that took Ogilvie there. His mother belongs some-
where round there, and Connie was always going on about
romance and all that. As a rule, it don't pay any dividend,
that sort of thing, Shilbeck. Guess you met my son and
daughter there."

Mr. Shilbeck intimated that the guess was perfectly
correct, w.ereupon Mr. Dunbar touched an electric button,
as If a new and important idea had flashed upon him, told
a boy in buttons he intended to remain invisible for an
hour, and turned again to his friend.

"Now, Shilbeck," he said, "if you have no objections
I want to have a good square talk with you."

" Fire away," responded Job, stretching his legs to signify
assent and readiness.
I* We're old friends, aren't we?" began Mr. Dunbar.
" Nigh five-and-twenty years since we dickered first," said
Mr. Shilbeck.

"And all that time we've known a good deal of each
other's aflairs. Now. what I want to ask you, Shilbeck, is

NEW YORK-THE EVERLASTING LESSON ,05

ShilSc? '"' ""''"'"'' ""■""'^■'-»- I i"d««--." answered

You know that amrV "'-•'-■^" ' »>« K"'ng about the bu.I,.

"Folk 2 of a^f ? ■''■" ■°''"'"'==' ^"'"'■'y ""J '"in"-"
"U th!l. f".'"",^'S'""'»"''n." responded Shilbeck.

n»y^el vou ,h!' " "k' " ""^^ '"«^'" -='^ "-bar. "I
M^oe, to Eu^o^^o^;S; thrSe^ttr- /^"■•

modation ^i^Vec. toter," '" ''"' "^^ ^" --

wrr^d ""rz " ■■^' '- -^'^ p^^- ^tthr/

-S"rXr^ --'^ '° <^°- --'^ - ho.e. I

"I want you, Shilbeck," said Mr. Dunbar "to dn m« ,h
avour of speaking your mind quite .nly ^t'T oW

feelings Now obf ' 'k" '° '^'"^ "° ''^" °' "urting my

"That's a pretty tall order, seein' leff- nn^ of ,u
''vehest young men 'bout Noo Yo!l" I 1 f ^

<^ cover more ^rr..,S ' ^"^ '-'""led, "and

ver more ground m a given time than any other man

3°fi A SON OF GAD

of his age and inches I know. But we're old friends, as
yeve reminded me, Dunbar, and ye've told me to take no
account of yer feelin's. That's how to get the trewth
gene^ny speakin'. Well, I ain't the maf to sLlon a
fnend, and I'll be candid 'cordin' to order. What did Teff
do in Europe? Well, first he goes to Paris and invests in
a motor-fancy vehicle, fancy price. Next he hires a
na .ve Johnny to oil the thing and speak French to it.
After that he crosses to London, and I reckon he just
showed the Brmshers in that city what a real live American
can do when he's in earnest about it. I reckon he made
the dollars fly "

"Well, well! thank Heaven we can afford M«/," put in
Mr. Dunbar a trifle testily.

" He appeared to be quite aware of that fact, and to take
full advantage of it," Mr. Shilbeck remarked. "There were
Umes when I was proud of Jeff, seein' I didn't foot the bills.
Ihere wasn't a thing to be done that Jeff didn't do "
" There you're wrong," cried his father.
" I'm referring to London," replied Job. " There wasn't
a thmg to be done that Jeff didn't do, nor a thing to be
seen that he didn't see, nor a thing to be bought that he
aidn t buy nor a man, woman, or child worth knowin' that
he didnt know. He was at dinners, and afternoon teas,
and horse races, hob-nobbin' with the best of 'em, from
pnnces and dooks down. Then he comes to Ogilvie's
place, bnngin' his motor and the Johnny to oil it along
and you just lay your old boots he wakened up that
district like a cyclone. There wasn't a horse in the county
would take the road witii any comfort when Jeff and the
motor were about, nor a livin' thing that didn't stand aside
and let him pass, except the old laird, that's Ogilvie's
predecessor, and he came to grief."
"Came to grief?" echoed Mr. Dunbar.
" Yes ; had a sort of 2,40 circus horse he was ready to lay

NKW YORK-THE EVKHLASTINO LESSOV ,o.

mov .y on and wouldn't get out of T.ff' ^^

Jeff didn't tell me that."

sWdtobe,thUSn„lta"rrjt " ''^^^ '"'^''' '^'-'
" Ah ! " said Mr T),mh ,■ '^ "^ '° ''""o" =»" "ght."

Ogilvie, what did he do" "' '"""« ^ '""« '^^^'h. '"And

;; Nothin. i„ particular," answered Job

coerced. Fiddlesticks! As^f n / t"^'"'^' '''°"''^n'' be
right and proper, asthe's to S v ' 1'°"""'''^°"''^''^
of time. Now t may be ail Z T'^" °^ "" '=««^'°"
When a sugar-pIumT offered ^^ '" *"" ^ '^°"'' ''^- i^-
take it if you wan" t; y:fdon^"a:rr" ^°" """"^ ^^
fme. There wasn't anvboL i f ^°' ^" ^-^"-'nsion of
Mr. Shilbeck carried hk^- *^^''°"t. I g"ess."

he thought of SeheThof Hr'^'^^'''°^"--e''>;
MacLean. ' ^^ *°"g'>f particularly of Captain

colvl'?i„V^^^^^^ "there's always folks

a millionaire down in Sco^ll^ f^"''- ^°" «"'' Plank
any more'n you can Lve 1 " / T'- ""^""■'"' '^««"'ion.
to the flies. But I reckon r^ .'^'^ '" *^ '"" ""kno'v,^
new. and Jeff .t l^^^ .^^U thi; T n '''' "'^^ '"
of sense, and it'll be all "L" 11^'' ''"^ Bonnie's a girl
confidentially, let me contra ,', I, ^ "°7 """'= ^"'''^ 'alkin'
Mr. Dunb^'r opeTed wf;'e?'^ ^°" ^"-^ K^'y''

"Well, let young folks telh.'""' ^"^''"S ^"^'ectably.
to. and you needn, 14'^" "^J,"™, f^"«-''^- I ain't goi„-

" lirash is all right" anT" fl '"" '"'^ ^^''^ Brash "
full steam ahead.""' ""'""'"^ """'^'■- " Brash is going

I' 1

CHAPTER XLVII

A HASTY DEPARTURE — AVE ATQUE VALE

FROM Mr. Brash's point of view Mr. Brash was in fact
doing excellently well. The schemes in hand were
big, the prospects golden. Dipping delectably into the
future, he saw himself master of a Fifth Avenue palace and
a millionaire's retinue. Almost insensibly, therefore, in the
frequent consultations with Mr. Dunbar, he began to
assume the port and authority of a principal. The voice,
indeed, was still the voice of Jacob, but the hands were un-
mistakably Esau's. The hands, moreover, were near and
excessively active, while the voice was three thousand miles
away, and inevitably lost something of its force in trans-
mission. Taking stock, Mr. Brash was disposed to felicitate
himself, and play his own hand as interest might dictate.
Why shouldn't he follow the universal rule ? Did gratitude
cry "halt"? Pooh! The man who was deterred by
gratitude would have crusts and husks for his portion.

Now Mr. Brash on his own indubitable authority was not
built that way. Ogilvie had helped him. True. Well, who
helped Ogilvie, and who, pushing further into the past,
helped Ogilvie's helpers? The line of helper and helped
ran back (could it be traced) to the beginnings of Wall
Street, a point which marked the limit of Mr. Brash's
historical knowledge. Turn and turn about was the great
law, and the successful ones were such as stepped nimbly
on the shoulders of their fellows. Well, he guessed he
could step as nimbly and deftly as the best.

He was vastly encouraged by the friendliness of Mr. Giles
Dunbar, who after all was senior partner in the great firm,
308

HASTY DEPARTURE

" There was a compact, that was true ;
Bit then she had a will. Was he to blame ? "

JdTZeJ°T'' f "'°"« ''^'PP'"^" '^ ^' ='-kc." he
At thJ r ^^^ '° ^^ reasonable freedom of choice "
At that heresy Mr. Dunbar's brows gathered "As f "

Shucksf O.^ ""? °"'^ '^'"'^^ ''^ '^^'^ '" 'he market!
anucks ! Ogilvie makes me sick."

In stress of emotion Mr. Dunbar, like other men of

share To N ''™^'"' '" ''^""^'^ Captain MacLean's
ne «as dumb-whether from gladness or hurt

310

A SON OF GAD

pride none could tell. Half the money was at once set
aside for him; the other half on Mr. Ogilvie's advice was
kept fluid for use as o( ;asion might serve.
_ "I'd employ it at home now," he said, with a smile.
I rather suspect we're in for squally weather on our side,
and Its just as well to keep out of storms if possible."

He named certain stocks and shares which he had
himself been watching with interest in London, and gave
introductions which secured for the captain "inside
lavours. The result was a further miraculous increase
of capital. For the first time in the history of the house
It seemed that whatever a MacLean touched turned to
gold, and the experience was so novel and amazing that
the lucky one had 3, feeling of uncanniness. "I don't
pretend to understand it," he said, for army men are babes
in business. The laird too was astonished beyond ex-
pression, and a little doubtful. Ian alone took develop-
ments as if expecting thi:m.

"Alick, my lad," he said or.e day while imparting good
news, "what did I tell you' The pounds and the half-
croons iss doing it, and you'll just be keeping up your
pecker. We'll be back in tl;e castle yet."

At the sign of squalls Mr. Ogiivie had immediately
prepared to return to New York, but on the cabled
assurance of Brash that all was well, and the knowledge
that Dunbar was at the helm, he altered his plans. In
this he was influenced by a frequently expressed desire
from his mother and daughter that he would not leave
them except in case of necessity. Connie seemed especially
anxious tn keep him beside her. He suggested that if
he went she should go with him, but the suggestion was
a trifle nervously put aside. Of late he had marked her
absent and ill at ease, a circumstance which the masculine
intelligence attributed wiiolly to the character of the
pnvate correspondence from New Yorx. It is sometimes
the habit of shrewd people to look abroad for reasons that
he close at hand.

A HASTY DEPARTURE 3,,

Captain MacLean came and went, a welcome guest and
compamon, and Mr. Linnie, whose hardihood was beyond
an praise was permitted to abase himself afresh, though
very prettily and firmly a line was drawn which he was hence-
forth forbidden to pass. Thus things went until the time
was at hand when Norman must return to duty in the south.
Meanwhile Mr. Ogilvie was frequently uneasy with the
hought that his place was in New York. "I don't quite
like the look of things," he said one day as if think
mg a^oud, and Connie ,x)unced on him for the reason.
Uh, he answered, like one taken off his guard. "I'm
not sure I can tell you why. You've felt the brooding
before the storm. Perhaps that explains my feeling ai
wel a. anything Probably I'm a donkey for my pLs,
but Id like to be there myself."

cornel ^^ '°° ^^^^ "^'^ ^^ ^ presentiment of things to

That very night there came a cable message intimating
the first rumblings of a tempest. A man of swift judg
ment, his decision was instant, and within half an hour
he was packing for departure. By chance the laird and
Norman were dining at the castle on that last evening.

r.n. .f"^ °'^f "''"^•" ^'- °g""^ ^'^'""'^'^d to the
captain, • that ! should be going to-morrow and you but
two days later " And at parting, '• Well, good-bye. Water
flows fast in these days, and a good deal will probably run
under bridges before we meet again. I thank you for very
grateful mpanionship. Captain MacLean."

The captain bowed, and Connie, a palpitating white
hgure, unconsciously fastened wide eyes on his face

"I shall always be interested in you," Mr. Ogilvie went
on; always-and I wish you the best of good fortune
m your profession."

Norman replied appropriately, indicating that if it were
net foolish impertinence towards one who already had all
taat man could crave he would return the wish.
"My dear Captain MacLean," responded Mr. Ogilvie,

? 'I

A SON OF GAD

looking at him very kindly, "no man is so secure in his
place or estate that he can afford to despise goodwS
Therefore wish me luck." 6i«.uwiu.

Norman did, and they shook hands. Next day Mr.
Ogilvie sailed. ^

The liner which carried him had barely got the last
Sck° T" "'"•'T'^ ^' Queenstown and 'tumed, the
S r°'"= P°"™g fr°"> her funnels, the sixteen thousand
horse-power beatmg full stroke for the open Atlantic, when

m the order of nature, shook New York. Another machine
yet more wonderful than the sixteen thousand ho s'^wTr
after runnmg at h.gh pressure for half a century as if It
action were perpetual, ceased like a shivered locomotive
One morning Mr. Dunbar entered his office alert a'dfuli
of schemes; at noon he was carried forth silently, recking

said o^ dd Wh"" r '"'""■ °^ ^"^^' '»>*' ^^^" S'-t
!!htrf '" *' ^'^""^ ^•'^'^P^' ^^n men stared

dfa" r the'nr'^"'-" °'" "^ '"'P"^^""^' ""i-aginable
market ' 'rLn" '" '"^^"^ ^^'""'^"^' '° ^ <=°"vulsed
market. Change was panic-struck, but the master who
had roused and allayed so many commotions, who had so
o ten a„d so cunningly pulled strings which made puppets

He ha'd'^'f "° ""T '° ^°"''°' 'h^ f""°"= -'events.
He had gone home and ta'en his wages

The catastrophe did not come without warning. America

It appears, IS hugely afflicted in the biliary organ The

engrossed financier-who could not spare time to take

a holiday-blamed the liver, sent for a bottle of pafent

medicine, and went on amassing millions-a stupendou"

unconscious satirist. The harassed brain meanwhile Sng

ns protests unheeded, fell silent, worked a sullen S

against the day of reckoning. Then in the appointed
moment, when the schemes of a. lifetime were culKng
m victory, as m a lightning-flash the driven slave revolted
and the strong man fell with a horrible, inarticulate gurgle

A HASTY DEPARTURE

313

d^"fortu„r ^ u°'"'"''"" °"' °" 'he Atlantic. So
aoes fortune contrive her ironies.

At Sandy Hook Mr. Ogilvie received the first news of
2rSn ' ■""""^"'^'^ P^"'^='= over^me that

speeToftI^v'''°"'!\.'"'^'^' ^''" ^^"•ai"- The slow
wanted to be 'f.r'''' '"" '° '^ '^^"'"^ '■"P-'i^"^^- He

HiSSSTerLr^rls^tL:-^-'^-'^'" —

Sri 4 cX? h-*"'^'^^ '° ^ P°"«' --^ whirled a
^ cab could take him to headquarters.

CHAPTER XLVIII

THE WRECK

IT E found the confusion of desolation. A mifihty
X 1 hurncane had smitten the corners of his house and

Sen off"'" T '°""^ '^''' "•'^'^" "f« '^^ burned or
Z7^ fu "'"''• "'• '■' '""y ^'- ■»" ^^ring world is
s tte.d ecause c^ disobedience to established' aw. there

hivoc SuJh • ""^P^^'^^'^''-" ^"«"=« of completed

havoc. Such a silence now seemed to be upon Mr.
Og,Iv,es world. Why hadn't he returned soone'? Why

nameofal^h^"''' "'^' ^''' '°"''"^' ^"^' '" 'he
AtTl . /' '™"'" '""^ ''^8ic, why was he on the

Atlantic in the fatal moment? He made no doubt he

acid ^nH T"'h"' "u"''"" ■ '' '"' "'^' ""^ ™"W have
tacked and turned m the storm, taking advantage of every

flaw and change. As it was, the vessel had gone full saH
tiUer " S' T''"-'^ ^'*°"' "" '""'^h as a hand at the

lit;." '°"- '' ^"^ '" ''■'"^^'^ b^'-'y; "the

left"!""'"" T'""'' ^'"^ '° °"""^^g'^ ^"d ^" he had
Vast to h k' ""°^' °' P^'" ^'^'"'^ ^hout his heart.
AH .hi ^^Jl^S'^y^ H<= «i"ced under a fresh pang.
All this would be m the British Press, and at that ve^
mstant those whose very existence was as his own might b^
moaning m hopeless, uncomforted distress. That must
not be. Seizing a cable form, he wrote a message of en-
couragement, and with the act the whole heart was
ammated, for in quickening others we insensibly quicken
314

THE WRECK

blackened and toppS'Ss '''"""''« ^"°"'''"'^"°" -''^

neetrhX ';t' 'hLT' 1' '"'P^'^'^' "^ -^'"« «

telegraph, and' Ja4fhrtlph„r '^"' "^

tale Mr. Dunbar told was nof t'^ , °"^'" J"*^' ^he

of personal grief w re less no T^' """^^ '»"= ^'8-

expected. ''°'«"''"' "'''" "''ght have been

" ^^''^t do you intend to do ? " Mr OiriIv,V -ci, j
promptly to business ^ ^'''^''' getting

can g.ve you persona./, you^oni l^o^^ L^^t ^

ti-.Tetr:4s;ru?^''^r'"-<^'^ "^^^^^^

eggs in one basket!" ' ""' ''"''"^ had all your

"And you, sir? "Jeff asked.

that most T:; L^zi'r'u"t' '°' " '^^'^p-'^'^

and you see the'sS.Tou ^ fir" .h;' '" '^""•
the shrewdest men I ever knew ! ' ''*' """ "^

pull out and invest „ ^^V""^' "^^8^" ^'"ne years ago to
turns out he was tv^ ' I V' 'f ^°^'""«^'y ^^ you, it
but this has coj and r'r/ ""■''' '°""^'''^^'"'"P'<^.
anything to grout'w,"h » " ' ''^' ""'' •^^^■" '^ ">- --

su£'irL;t^^:t:;:rt^r°^-'^^^-"^-

Ogilvie. He left wLr^ • '''""''' g-'aee of Mr.

sonalmatt"r!be onda n ;""'"""^ "P°" P"^^'« - P«-
Mr. Ogilvie to ^.t " L ''""" ''^'" "''^ ^'""''y "Peeted

homeTThe preTem' Mr 0"!'°" '" ^''"^ ^^^"^ »>'■'
present. Mr. Og.lvie was politely thankful.

3«6

A SON OF GAD

but explained that his arrangements must be subject to
many unknown conditions; and shalting hands, immediately
summoned the broker. As confidential man on the spot,
he knew more than Jeff, but his story was no less dolorous.
It was a bad smash, a very bad smash, the worst smash he
could remember. For it was an onset without resistance, or
resistance so feeble and ill-directed it counted for nothing.
"Why weren't you here?" Mr. Ogilvie was asked.

" Because I don't happen to be omniscient," he replied.

" Nothing but your own presencf ," said the broker, harping
on the fretted string, " could have saved us."

" And I was at sea in a double sense," was the rejoinder.
" Tell me, was the other side jubilant ? "

Yes, the other side was elated; and worse than that, there
were traitors in the army of defence.

"Ah, where individual interests are to be served that
must always be the case," Mr. Ogilvie said, not without a
touch of bitterness. " I could not expect even my friends
to throw away fortunes for me. That's not in human
nature. I take it they unloaded in a panic. I've seen very
level-headed men lose their wits in a crisis ; but I hope the
defections were not serious."

Names were given, and at the liiention of one of them
the lines on Mr. Ogilvie's face hardened visibly.

"What!" he returned. "You mean to tell me he hammered
with tb'3 rest?"

It was pitiable and contemptible, but true. Mr. Ogilvie
gazed very hard a second or two, his lips compressed
grimly.

" I think I've got as much information as a man can
comfortably digest at one tin.e," he said then. " Thanks
for coming."

He held out his hand. It was hot, but its touch was
nothing to the flashing of his dark eyes. They burned with
a Celtic fire of anger.

THE WRECK j,^

Two days passed bt;fore Mr. Brash was well enough to
return, and in the interval the fallen man had many
opportunities of realising that beyond all doubt or question
he was down. A utilitarian age and a practical people
apply the standard of the precious metals. Ogilvie had
been honoured and envied because he was rich; the crowd
had seen him hurled from his pedestal, and many a huck-
stering financier, who a little before would have bartered
salvation for his favour, said, in his loftiness, "I have more
to my name to-night than Ogilvie"; and turned to other
gods. In a thousand subtle ways it was proved that king,
president, or millionaire has prayers and hosannas just so
long as he keeps his place. U rot est mort ; vive It rot
He was a genius who first gave the sentiment Those who
had once spoken enviously of Ogilvie's success now referred
pitymgly to his failure. A few discerning ones said,
Ogilvie's been in storms before, and come out all right
He ain't going to twiddle his thumbs, you bet." But the
rabble went its way after the manner of the rabble,
clamouring that another lion was down; and Society pro-
ceeded to make its arrangements, the space provisionally
left for Miss Ogilvie's name filled by another.

On the other hand there were numerous signs and tokens
of goodwill. In a contest your true American is an electric
machme that goes straight on without hesitation or com-
punction, but having won, or seen a rival fall by the way, he
sets the world an example in cheery generosity. Thus while
on the one hand Ogilvie was batte.ed cruelly, on the other
he was embarrassed by sympathy and proffered aid, for well
they knew he was worth helping.

At first his answer was, " I really don't know how I stand
yet, nor what can be done." Then it became, "You're
very kind, but for the present I'll just help myself. I think
there's bread in the Republic for me yet. Gentlemen, I
Uke off my coat and go at it again."

3i8

A SON OF OAD

So he said to his friends in general; so he said with
particular emphasis to Jeff, in the second business interview.
" Don't you rislt a dollar for me,' 'le told Mr. Dunbar, on
some suggestion of co-operation. "You don't care for
business ; I do. You have not been trained to it ; I have.
Therefore, don't you touch it. What hurts me most now is
the thought that others are suffering innocently through me ;
perhaps execrating my name, and that's not pleasant. What's
done, we can't undo, but we can draw a line to prevent
what might be. I could never forgive myself if I allowed
you to become deeper involved. Thank your stars you are
as you are. We walk half our time in darkness, and in the
best light we can't see round comers. Perhaps this is sent
to prevent greater ills ; one doesn't know. In any case my
duty is clear. If your father were here he and I would
stand together ; but he's not here, and I stand alone."
And so it was.

Brash returned in a great fervour of regret and sympathy ;
but the way had been paved for his reception, and both
were heavily discounted. Mr. Ogilvie was perfectly calm
and absolutely resolved. It was not a time to mar chances
by getting ruffled ; but neither was it a time for cherishing
mock friends.

"It suited you, Brash," he said curtly, breaking in on
Mr. Brash's stammerings, " to clear out, and you did. The
only comment I have any right to make is that possibly a
more delicate or more loyal man would have waited till I
got back ; b-jt you chose to do otherwise. This is a free
country, and however much I may be disappointed, however
much I may suffer, you were merely exercising your rights.
The only question for discussion now is, how much are your
interests and mine still intertwined ? "

"I don't think they're intertwined at all, sir," Brash
answered.

"You took care to get them disentangled. Well, that

THE WHECK j,^

WM prudt-nt, and saves trouble. Technically, however I
believe you are still in n,y employment. Hence there arise,
the question of notice and of salary."

"No. sir," cried Urash, his sallow face flushing; "you
need not consider that."

"Good again. You've looked to these things also. There
never was a smarter man, Urash, than yourself. Your fore-
thought obviates waste of time and chance of misunder-
standing. Everything's in order ; nothing has to be adjusted
between us."
^^^'' Except," replied Brash warmly, "that I'm mortal sorry,

" For what. Brash ? For the crash, or your own action ? "
'Both," cried Urash, burning in shame now that he was
face to face with the man who first raised him, whose will
had so long been his law. " Kact is, I couldn't help it."

"The excuse of all men who are tempted and yield"
returned Mr. Ogilvie. "You were not made for resisting
temptation, Brash. Finding it too much to protect mc-
you naturally thought of yourself. I'm not going to blame
you for obeying the first law of nature. You were wise
Had you disobeyed, you would now be like me-stripped
as bare as a tree in winter." '

"Uon't talk like that, sir," Brash pleaded; "you make
me feel bad. I ain't ungrateful."

" There is a proverb in the old country that the proof of
the pudding is in the eating," was the reply. " You know
how we came together. Brash. I think it may fairly be said
1 gave you your start. But I didn't bind or buy. When I
was absent you had a chance, and took it. I had no right
whatever to expect you to ruin yourself out of loyalty to
me. Sentiment doesn't pay in these times. If I was
a httle surprised, a little hurt, perhaps, it only shows that
I had still something important to learn. I have learned
and the lesson has been so rubbed in that I am not likely

3»o

A SON OF GAD

'«

to forget. Henceforth I shall know that your active and
clever brain is devoted to some other interest than mine."

"I hope, sir, we may still work together," said Brash,
squirming, with hot gills.

Mr. Ogilvie laughed drily.

"Heaven knows," he returned. "Misfortune makes
strange bedfellows, and the crooks and windings of life
are past all reckoning. We don't know what's awaiting
us at the next bend of the way. It may be a bridal march,
it may be a funeral hymn; a smiling sun, or a roaring
tornado. To-morrow, or the day after, I may have to go to
you, hat in hand, and beseech you to help me. But I
promise not to trouble you if I can help it. You may take
it, Brash, that I will wear my nails to the quick working,
and exhaust brain and heart planning, before I presume to
go to you."

He turned away flashing as if the interview were closed,
but swung back as the door knob rattled, to see the familiar
face of Mr. Job Shilbeck.

CHAPTER XLIX

SHILBECK AND BRASH EXCHANGE VIEWS

MR. SHILBECK advanced, solemnly shook hands
with both men, and dropped on a chair, lank and
loose as a doubled-up flail. He was not easily agitated
or put out, but the cadaverous sphinx face now bore
mdubitable marks of anxiety.

"Pretty busy, I reckon," he remarked, looking at Mr.
Ogilvie. "Things have humped since we parted on the
other side, haven't they? Under-pinnin' out of gear, and
the eternal bottom heavin'."

"Like a rough sea," Mr. Ogilvie assented. "Ves, I'm
as busy as the man who doesn't know what to do first.
And you, what have you been doing ? "

"Me! Oh, I've been foolin' round Washin'ton," an-
swered Job.
"And how are things at Washington?"
Mr. Ogilvie was guarding himself Uke one on slippery ice
"Pretty sick," replied Shilbeck, giving his cigar stump
a twist of disgust "Yes, sir, if you ask me, pretty damn
sick, anyway in my department Looks as if the almighty
bottom, 'stead of heavin', was knocked clean out"
He sat up with gathered brows.

"What the tarnation made Giles Dunbar go and die?"
he demanded querulously.

"Couldn't help it, I fancy," Mr. Ogilvie replied, with an
involuntary glance at Brash; "you may dismiss the idea
that he died of malice prepense."
* 331

I^RI

322 A SON OF GAD

" I dunno 'bout that," grumbled Job, his face a pucker
of wrinkles, and every wrinkle a grievance. "Brash, you
might have doctored him for another week or so till we got
things straight. They were for chuckin' me out down at
Washin'ton."

" Oh, they've grown rude," said Mr. Ogilvie.

"Yes, sir," continued Shilbeck, "wanted to chuck me
out; me that's pulled the strings that made 'em dance.
I tell you it wasn't no patent medicine, warranted pleasant
and easy to take. It was gall, sir, pure gall ; that's what it
was. ' So this is your dead sure thing, is it ? ' they said, for
of course I had put it pretty strong to 'em. ' Comin' here
with yer thunderin' lies to get yer hands in our pockets,'
for ye see," explained Job, "I was not only gettin' their
votes, but inducin' 'em to invest as a guarantee of good
faith — as the noospapers say — and when the thing smashed
they rjat'rilly rounded on me. They even went so far as to
say it was a put-up job from the start, and there never was
any real bottom in the concern."

" You know that's a lie," put in Mr. Ogilvie, with quiet
emphasis.

" Oh, yes, / know all right," Job returned. " But when
a crowd of howHn' dervishes is shoutin' for yer blood,
'tain't exactly the time to argue out the rights and wrongs
of a thing. Havin' lost money, they weren't just as reason-
able as ye could wish. So one said that it was a put-up
job, another that Giles Dunbar committed suicide because
he'd been found out and dussn't face the music."

" And did they confine their remarks to Dunbar ? " Mr.
Ogilvie asked curiously.

"No, sir," Job replied quickly. "By no manner of means.
They went for me as stated, and since you ask, some of
'em wanted to know what you were goin' to do with your
castles in Europe."

"Ah! that's interesting."

II Ml

SHILBECK AND BRASH EXCHANGE VIEWS 3.3

ogiJrir"' ' ""'"■ " '°'"'"' j"^' ^' p--'?" Mr.

Washmton so far's our little schemes are concerned
Govem„,ent .tself looks funky, and I heard more'roS
Seru,tor, who ought to know better, holdin' forth o„ "he
imqu.ty of trusts and combinations and Stock Lh J
rule and all that. Washin'ton's heart's in i^s^tf .h I'
I reckon ifl, worry round. How's SlVtiee^^ ''""^^

dealS:;.'. " ''"'"«'°"'" ''''''' ^^- Ogi'vie; "a good
"Then I reckon 111 go back to the country," said Job
Been takmg a holiday in the country ? "

iusZo'an/"'" '^''''"''°" '"'' ""' °"' I --k°ned I'd
t1' ^tu^ '"'' '"'"^ '" *« '=0"ntO' for a spell
Thats why I haven't come to see you sooner But!t dSl
matter, seem' our friend Brash is here "

For the first time he gave a real attention to Brash who
shrank like a pricked india-nibber ball '

"Somebody," Shilbeck went on, with blundering frank
ne... somebody told me he had vamoosed th^ilrj
pulled up tent-pegs, and cleared out. I said it waTa blani:
lie. Reckon that's right, ain't it ? " '^""^

For a little there was oppressive silence Mr H™»l,
flushed, paled, and flushed Lin M OrilvV ^
his breath and then said quiet^bu; f^iy^''^' '""' '"

No, It's wrong."

"Wrong?" Job repeated, throwing away his cigar in the

3*4

A SON OF GAD

excitement. "Wrong? Maybe you'll have the goodness to
inform me if old mother Earth's standing on her head.
Why, Brash, you ain't gone and left us, have you ? "

A fiery shudder passed through Brash ; his tongue was
palsied. Mr. Ogilvie politely stepped into the breach.

"Mr. Brash," he said, "has done what every man is
perfectly entitled to do, looked after his own interests. A
man's fortune, like a man's salvation, is a personal matter.
Brash has, prudently no doubt, decided that it will pay
him better to change camp and colours. It's all in the
way of business."

Shilbeck turned from Ogilvie to Brash.

"Isthatso?"he^ked.

"Yes, speakin' generally, that's so," Brash answered,
pronouncing his own doom.

Shilbeck tugged at his goatee.

" Well, if this don't beat creation ! " he cried. " Brash,
I counted on you more'n anybody else, and when some
coon or other said you were a deserter, and in that way
judged there was no bottom in our scheme, 1 took the
liberty of tellin' him he was a howlin' nor'-wester of a liar.
Now, 'pears I must go back ind apologise."

Had Brash in that moment of shame and vexation been
a fres agent he would have reverted to his first allegiance,
but as he was committed hand and foot elsewhere there
came the inevitable revulsion.

" I don't see," he replied, begiiming to look defiantly at
Shilbeck — "I don't see why you should go and take on
'bout me to the extent of callin' other men liars. You
ain't my keeper, and what I do or don't do ain't your
concern at all."

" When a man tells me what I don't want to h?ar 'bout
a friend," responded Job impressively, " I naturally and as
a matter of course make him out a liar. I'm genoowine to
that extent. I counted on you, Brash, same as if you were

SHILBECK AND BRASH EXCHANGE VIEWS 325
my brother. I said to myself, ' Whatever happens, whoever
comes or goes, Brash is safe; I know Brash, and he ain't
the man to play low.'"

"Take care what you say 'bout playin' low," Brash cried,
with the ring of injured honour.

" ' I never knew him to act on anything but strict on the
square,' "Shilbeck pursued as if there had been no inter-
ruption; '"he's as square as a four-foot back kitchen garden,
and 111 plug a hole in any man that says different.' That
was my feelin', Brash, and I expressed myself accoidin'ly,
Mid I said to myself further, 'Of course he couldn't keep
Giles Dunbar from dyin' any more'n he could help Ogilvie
bem' on the roarin' ocean when he was badly wanted here
in Noo York. Therefore he couldn't help the smash.
But when the storm's over youll find Brash where he ought
to be. Brash ain't none of yer willows that bend this way
and that as the wind happens to blow. No. sir, Brash is a
bit of true American steel.' And when I came on here
and found you two together my heart whispered, 'There
didn't I tell you it was all right? Brash is at his posti
Brash is same's you expected.' That's what my heart
whispered on enterin' this room, and now," Mr. Shilbeck
continued in a tone of profound grief, '"pears I've
got to go and apologise for thinkin' well of my friend
If that ain't hard lines I won't plump for friendship any
more." ^ '

"I wouldn't if I was you," Brash retorted hotly, "and I
want to say this: don't you shed any tears over me, and
you needn't take it on yourself any longer to be my friend.
You am't my judge, and you ain't responsible for my
conduct. If you look after your own doorstep I guess I
can look after mine."

Shilbeck waved an arm in pained deprecation.

" Shucks ! " he ejaculated—" shucks I "

•' Tain't shucks by a long way," Brash cried ferociously.

3*6

A SON OF GAD

" You've got to mind your own business and stop meddlin'
and jawin', or by thunder you'll be sorry."

"Brash," responded Shilbeck despondently, "you've no
idea how much I feel like weeping this minute. I've known
you from the start I've seen ye greasin' axles, and admired
the way it was done. I said, 'That's how axles ought to be
greased, and the man who is smart in little things will be
smart in big things ; the man who greases axles well \sprimy
fashee fit to be president.' Later on I saw you despatchin'
trains, and I said, • There's a man who understands the whole
art and science of train-despatchin'.' Then I saw you at
Ogilvie's right hand, and I said, ' By Jericho ! if there's a
man in the railroad biz in Noo York with a head on him
it's Hiram Brash. Mark me, you ain't heard the last of
Brash. Brash is just beginnin'.' "

" Oh, freeze up I " Brash flung out ; but Shilbeck went on
without change of tone.

" 'Some day Giles Dunbar will die' — ye see I was right —
'and Ogilvie will get tired makin' money, and then ye'U see
Brash come out on top.' All that I said more'n once; but
I'm bound to tell you. Brash, that your last act is somethin'
that takes me in the pit of the stomach and knocks the
wind out of me. I didn't expect it, and if I hurt yer
feelin's in sayin' so, why, go right ahead and put a hole in
me. I reckon it don't matter. If Job Shilbeck can't be
proud of his friends, if he's got to go and apologise for
thinkin' well of 'em, why, you see, the game ain't worth
playin'."

Brash, who was recovering his nerve, responded with a
satirical guffaw.

"It wouldn't be right to kill a man that's so beautiful and
moral," he returned.

"I feel serious over it. Brash," Shilbeck said, his
lugubrious expression eloquently corroborating his words.
" Yes, sir, very serious. But of course you'll do exactly as

SHILBECK AND BRASH EXCHANGE VIEWS 3,7
you wish, Brash. Don't let any sentiment for me interfere ;
never mind my feelin's. You go right ahead— kick away the
ladder when you've got up, and I'll swallow my pride and
go back sayin' I was mistaken in ye and apologise. What
right have I to be upholdin' you, or interferin'?"

" You speak sense at last," Brash remarked with another
cackle, "what right?"

" No right whatever," Job acknowledged meekly, "except
the right of an old friend and admirer ; and 'pears the day
of friendship's over. That sort of old-fashioned truck's
played out. So you just go ahead, Brash, and never mind
me."

"I will, you old fool," was on Brash's tongue, but he kept
the words back. He had all at once conceived a violent
dislike for Shilbeck because he had done the man wrong,
and these plaintive reproofs were as poison. He rose
abruptly, remarking with a livid smile that he couldn't think
of putting a busy man to the trouble of preaching any more
sermons.
" Good-bye," he said to Job ; " we may meet again."
"So," replied Shilbeck significantly; but Brash had
turned unheeding to Mr. Ogilvie.

"I'm sorry for you, sir," he said, "mortal sorry, and
that's a fact."

" Thank you," Mr. Ogilvie responded, looking him hard
in the eyes so that he faltered, " but you are a little ahead
of me. I haven't yet begun to be sorry for myself.
Good-bye."

A scowl came into Brash's face; he cast a vindictive
glance at his old master, turned, and hurriedly left the
room.

Shilbeck held his breath till the door closed, then leaped
like a wild cat, his face suddenly wrought to a crimson fury.

" Dang his skin ! Of all the infernal, mean, low down
skunks ! " he cried, striking the desk with his clenched fist

I I

3»8

A SON OF GAD

Mr. Brash, pausing expectantly outside, heard the words,
compressed his thin lips hard over set teeth, and went his
way with a darkened countenance. Shilbeck should rue
that.

Within Shilbeck, recovering from the fierce recoil of
feeling, went on to describe Brash's infamous conduct,
which made it a nice point whether he, the Hon. Job
Shilbeck, a wirepuller of eminence and honour, could ever
speak to, recognise, or countenance the man again.

By a well-feigned air of dejection and grief he had done
his best to win the traitor back through shame working
on conscience. But Brash was not only impenitent, but
insulting to boot, and the galled Shilbeck talked of treachery
in a foaming torrent Brash was guilty of a heinous offence
against honour, private friendship, and Mr. Shilbeck's purse.
Worse than all, he went into the enemy's camp carrying
secrets— a fact which particularly vexed Job, since his
secrets were not of a kind for malicious opponents and the
Press. If Hiram blabbed— and there might be profit in
bUbbing— he was undone. Even as it was, he scarcely
durst show his face in Washington. If Brash talked he
could not return until fresh elections brought new men and
new interests to obliterate memories of the old. Even then
ill-disposed persons might remember and jeer to one's
detriment. Not that Mr. Shilbeck was sensitive over moral
obliquity or brooded darkly on scorn; his hide was proof
against men's tongues so long as their acts were not
injurious. He would not forgive, no, not if Brash were
to beseech on bended knee— a method which Brash showed
no disposition to adopt. Hiram had done a mean thing,
and could betake himself to his father the devil.

Mr. Ogilvie listened without interruption, and nodded
sympathetically, revolving his own thoughts. What he
made out most clearly from the cataract of passion was his
own complete isolation. He was not disappointed ngr cast

SHILBECK AND BRASH EXCHANGE VIEWS 329
dom, for he came insensibly to understand that nitor in
atversum was the motto for a man out of favour with
fortune. He did not complain, had no thought of com-
plaining. The master of the universe ordained it so, and
he bowed his head; yet the knowledge bit none the less
keenly, because there was no kicking against the pricks.

He had now seen Jeff Dunbar, Hiram Brash, Shilbeck,
and others; and though he had been comforted and en-
couraged in a hundred ways, he yet read as clearly as the
Babylonian king saw the writing on the wall: "You stand
alone; you must fight alone." Without shrinking he
accepted the judgment.

That evening while fashionable New York dined and
dressed for the play, he sat down to write his first letter
to Dunveagle; it caused grievous trouble. He who was
wont to keep the pens of two secretaries racing together
could hardly find expression for the feelings which seethed
and contended within him, for he wished to tell the truth
without inflicting a touch of needless pain. In the deep
stillness of the night this is what he finally wrote :—

"Mv DEAREST CoN,— I have waited a little while to take
bearings before writing you a letter. My cable would tell
you something, and I daresay the newspapers have told you
a great deal more. Don't let them vex you. But I must
tell you, because I feel you would like to know, that the
sitiiation here is very grave, and that my losses and dislo-
cations are such as to make readjustment of ways and
means necessary. I cannot yet say exactly how things may
turn out. The panic exceeded anything the oldest operator
remembers. Had I been here I think things would be
diiferent. However, let that pass.

" Now that affairs are settling a bit people are beginning
to be ashamed of themselves for having so completely lost
their heads. The tone in Wall Street is distinctly better,
which will help once I get my plans straight. I stand

1 1

33°

A SON OF GAD

alone, Con, and mean to fight whilj there is a shadow's
shadow of a chance to retrieve. If I can help it no man
will be able to say I owe him a dollar ; and, thank God, no
country in the world is so liberal of opportunity as America.
It is in a crisis like this one values the possibilities afforded
by the United States.

"Already, I think, I begin to see glimmerings of light.
How it will go with some of our cherished dreams, I don't
know. I hope for the best when my resources are all
available. I hope in particular that Dunveagle may not
have to go by the board. It is so new aid so dear to
us all— to Grannie, to you, to me— that I will make a
desperate fight to keep it. But I know, dearest Con, that
if any sacrifice for my sake is needed, my mother and my
daughter are ready, I am proud to think the American
girl— and despite your Scotch blood, Con, you are good
American— not only knows how to rise with grace and
discretion, but to stoop with grace and courage; and I
would put my little giri against the worid for good sense. On
one thing I am resolved, whatever happens you keep your
own. Had this kept off a little longer, Dunveagle might
be your own also. As it is, it is mine, and must take its
chance of the melting-pot ; but what is yours is yours, and
you keep it.

"You may read this letter to Grannie or not, as you
think right. But comfort her for me. Poor old body, this
will be a sore blow to her. Well, she knows better than
I can tell, that if I could help it she would not suffer
a moment's pain or worry, and that while I have a head to
plan and two hands to execute she will not be forgotten.
I had much more to say, but this is enough now. Keep
up your heart and cheer Grannie ; I'm all right. Ever your

affectionate father.

"Duncan Ogilvie."

CHAPTER L

HOPE AND DESPAIR

/~*ONNIE was heroically hoping against hope when this
V-/ letter reached and prostrated her. She had read all
the early reports in the newspapers, flung them away in
unbelieving anger, resolved to read no more; harked back
and read everything that appeared concerning her father
and his schemes. The British Press, through enterprising
New York correspondents, fed her fears liberally, and kind
friends, mostly anonymous, sent her bundles of American
papers. The reading of these became a passion, or rather
an intermittent fever, recurring with painful rigours pud
paroxysms on the arrival of each fresh batch.

In a semi-delirium she saw the whole United States in
a quiver of excitement. She knew that American public
opinion IS gaseously inflammable, and that torches were
sedulously applied; worse still, that her father's name was
bandied from tongue to tongue, and sullied with evil-speak-
ing. But ore at least would not believe their monstrous lies,
one at least would stand by him in the tempest of obloquy
and scandal. Speaking figuratively, she dashed a defiant fist
m the worid's face, hurling back the infamies of traducers.
More practically she set herself with cheery fortitude to
comfort and sustain the afflicted mother. These ministra-
tions proved the best of cordials, for the sunshine we bring
to others first warms and heartens ourselves. That is why
generosity is so good a medicine and selfishness so ill
a disease.

331

?^::f

33» A SON OF GAD

Connie had yet other things to agiute her, ay, and
happiJy to conwie her as well, things that wound them-
selves into the very core of being, sweetening and purifying
like a holy dew. In more than one sense she had passed
into a new existence, blissful enough in moments of electri-
fied feeling to bring oblivion of all else. But she saw Mrs.
Ogilwe's drawn, troubled face, and her heart smote her.
So she forgot herself, put on a sunny face, and thrust
malignant and mendacious papers out of sight, asking her-
self, why should they lose heart? The statements of
newspapers vying with one another in capping sensation
with sensation were not to be taken as gospel Wasn't her
hero at the helm, the hero who had never failed in an
emergency and wasn't going to fail now? So after the
first shock of consternation she reasoned in the privacy of
her own mmd ; so she blithely assured Mrs. Ogilvie.

They were together when the letter arrived in a batch of
general correspondence, and Connie dexterously slipped it
out of sight in order to read it by herself. When the
chance came head and heart beat so tumultuously that for
a moment the familiar writing jigged in a senseless blur.
Drawing in her breath to steady and control herself, she
read, first m a desperate eagerness, and then in a freezing
terror. On finishing, she fell limply into a chair, her face
as the face of death. For a little she lay quite still, not
sufTenng, for the blow had momentarily deprived her of
sensation, only, as it seemed, hanging vaguely over a chasm
that was horribly black, and held in its invisible depths
cold, cruel, sucking waters. In an instant she had been
whipped out of the warm, ruddy, everyday worid into a
world of dazed brains and pulseless hearts and impotent
wills and grey, rent, stricken wastes, a worid dropped from
the clouds, and held by some evil power suspended over a
yawning silence of desolation.
This mood passed, and there arose a noise as of the

HOPE AND DESPAIR jjj

beating of drums in her ears. The wheels of the mind
mysteriously loosed, began to revolve furiously. As in the
lund bnghtness of lightning she beheld the scene of wreck
m New York, with her father, a lonely, tragic figure in the
midst, and herself helpless, beyond i -If that could not be
crossed.

She rose, wringing her hands in impotence. If she were
only a man. a son instead of a daughter, the world should
see how she could fight for the man who had never seemed
so dear, so brave, so good as he did then. But a woman-
ly*, "«'''.* *°'"''" '^° '" ' *="'« "'^"^'"K «"=n8th and
skill? Nothing, nothing. Yet why nothing? Couldn't
she at least go back to New York and stand beside the
fighter to testify a love and allegiance that would eo with
him to death, if need be.

In the intensity of her emotion she did not hear a slow
weary step outside. But she heard the door opening'
though It opened very softly, and turned as her grand-
mother entered. A gUnce told the older woman that what
she feared was true.

"Bad news, dearie?" she said quietly. "I thought
there would be a letter from your father to-day. Has it
come ? "

"Yes, Grannie," Connie answered brokenly, her first tear
falling. " There is a letter from father."

Mrs. Ogilvie took a silk handkerchief and gently wiped
the welling eyes. = .» i~

"Don't be disturbed then, dear." she murmured.
Connie caught her in a quivering embrace.
"Grannie, you're a brick!" came in muffled sobs.
When I ought to be comforting and strengthening you,
you comfort and strengthen me."

Kissing the bent head, Mrs. Ogilvie softly disengaged

"Young people, dearie," she answered, stroking the

334

A SON OF GAD

golden hair, and again wiping the wet eyes, "feel quickly
and deeply. With them it is all happiness or all misery.
Old people learn to take life at best as a mixture of
good and evil. Come, dearie, let me read your father's
letter."

Connie gave it, and watched like one awaiting a verdict
of life or death while her grandmother read.

"Poor Dunk!" Mrs. Ogilvie sighed, and handed the
letter back.

A new terror came into Connie's face.

"Grannie," she cried, "do you think it's ruin? You
have had so much experience j you have seen father do
so many things; tell me, do you expect him to succeed
now ? "

Mrs Ogilvie removed her spectacles, her hand shaking
violently, but her speech and manner were calm.

"Whatever a man can do, your father will do," she
answered with confidence. " I have seen him, as yc-a say
do a great many things, some of them very difficult. I'm
his mother, Connie dear; it's hard for you to understand
all that that means. Come here."

She turned quickly to the window which looked up over
te ond*'^ ""^^ *° *^ '''"' "°*^"S peak upon peak
"Look, dearie," she said, pointing to Craigenard; "yon-
der IS where he was bom. The first look he ever gave
showing he knew me was there, ay, and the first word he
ever lisped. From the day I first took him in my arms
until now I have watched him without growing tired. I
can see him this minute in his little kilt running after the
cows and the sheep, or tumbling over and over with the
dogs, for he was always fond of fun. Ay, more clearly than
I ever mind him in New York, for you see it's the eariy
memories that stick. Your father, Connie dear, in a little
kilt made by his mother."

HOPE AND DESPAIR 335

J- God bless her," Comiie whispered, kissing the twitching

lZ^th°f;'T '^^"-'"'^"^^''"S- Sometimes
I start with fear, lest we forget Him in our pride and

gmndeun It wou.d be worst for ourselves, daring, if^'

did. He gave me much happiness. A better son than

a t.me I ve had a sore heart; but it was never made sore
by him. except once, when the wee man nearly cried hi!
eyes out and that was leaving Craigenard. He neaS

U. Even then he was always thinking how to please me.

I just sat down and covered my face in my apron he
came and pulled the apron down and clapped me Sine
m his childish way, he would always tal^ ca" o7mf '
And through all that's come and gone, Connie dl, he
has kept that baby promise. He has taken care of me
Even now, you see. he's thinking of me. Well. I'm
pmymg for him By God's grace he'll overcome n;w a"
he has done in the past. We won't despair "
Connie's rqoinder was another smothering embrace.
I think, she said, presently lifting her head, "he's
prepanng us for the worst."

J J1'' ''"*"'•" '"P""'^ ^"- 08*'^«' "i'h the same
steadfast quietness, "let us be ready. If we must leave
Dunveagle, we'll go knowing he coufdn't help i? lifus

"he';-" '"'^ '^ '"""""""^' ^"' '^'''- ^- »>-

oin'^Tji*'" '"^ ^°""'' '" " '''«"'»g ^oice. "you're
old__and Im young, and yet you're worth a thousand of

"No. dear, no." Mrs. Ogilvie returned. "Only I've

ev^W^ T'' '° '^"'^ '"^^ "P^ "^^ ^°^ ~L to
everybody, the one as much as the other, and all for

336

A SON OF GAD

y ii

our own good. I have heard that people living in hot
countries grow weary of the sun and a summer that never
ends. Many diseases too come to them that don't come
to us. It's the same with life; we need the rain and the
clouds as much as the sunshine. As to what's good or
bad for us, we're children, Cormie dear, but the Father
of all knows what's best. It was a great thing for me
to come to Dunveagle. Perhaps I was too glad, though
it wasn't the fine house and the carriages I wanted.
Suppose we must leave it just on getting settled, some
day soon we must leave it in any case. And do you know
that, although my kith and kin lie among these hills, and
I love the very woods and waters of Glenveagle, I have
thought at times lately I'd like to cross the Atlantic again
and lie down at' last beside your grandfather? At the
great day it would be kindlier to rise together. So it
wouldn't be so hard on me to go as you think. For
you, dear, it's different; but you mustn't lose heart or
think this is going to spoil your life. Have faith in your
father ; he deserves it At present our duty is to show him
we don't flinch."

"Grannie," returned Connie, her eyes shining mistily,
" I said you were worth a thousand of me ; you are worth
ten thousand. Will you write to him or shall I ? "

"Well both write, for I think he loves us both equally
well," was the answer.

But before Connie was well settled at her desk, Mr.
Rollo Linnie was announced. Her first impulse was to
send a curt refusal to see him. It was like his im-
pertinence to call at such a time. No, she wouldn't see
him. Then in a flash it came to her how he might
misconstrue her refusal. She had no doubt regarding his
business ; he had, of course, come to spy. She could see
the cold, heartless smile on his face. "So it is as bad
as that," she fancied him saying in his cynical way.

HOPE AND DESPAIR 337

"Cannot even see her friends." And he would go off
spreading insinuation like a plague.

She was still in vehement self-debate whether to face
him or send a freezing message of regret, when a second
announcement brought a quick decision.

The laird had called, his first voluntary visit to Dun-
veagle m her time. Two minutes of titivation before the

Sl^^ .1 T *^°"" '° "'^ dniwing-room, pale indeed,
but perfectly self-possessed, and towards one of the visitors
overflowing with cordialif.

She found the two men sitting severely and ostentatiously
apart, their half-turned backs and arched, disdainful shoul-
ders expressing immitigable contemot and enmity. Both
rose at her entrance, but her eyes were for the laird alone,
who with a glance at her face bowed like a chevaUer of
other days over her hand. She lingered graciously, turned
to Linme. and swiftly back again to the laird.

J'^^^T-^!^"^ "°' *'°'"^ ^' ^ inopportune moment,
Miss Ogilvie," he said, with a grave courtesy of manned
which remmded her of someone else.

"Oh, no." she replied eagerly j "I cannot tell how glad
I am to see you." °

Linnie expressed the same sentiment, expecting the same
response, but she swept him a bow which stung like a smack
"ride '^^^ distinction was too much for an itching

"I hear," he said, stiffening and colouring, "certain
reports about Mr. Ogilvie's troubles in America, though of
course the newspapers may be all wrong, and I called "

He paused in confusion.

" To express sympathy," she put in. " It is good of you.
My father is over in New York attending to his affairs
personally, and I think that is all that need be said between
us, Mr. Linnie, on the matter."

Her eyes and manner said, "Go now"; but as she

338

A SON OF GAD

had guessed, he had come for information, and was not to
be so easily turned away.

"If there is anything, Miss Ogilvie " he was begin-
ning, but she anticipated him.

" Thank you, Mr. Linnie, but I don't think there is," she
returned. " I am sure you will forgive me if I say I have a
great deal to engage my attention. At present, if you will
excuse me, I wish to speak alone with Mr. MacLean."

"Certainly, certainly," retorted Rollo, in a tone which
told that at last he was past considerations of forgiveness.

Marking his mood joyously, she rang the bell.

" Don't trouble," he cried ; " I can find my way out very
well, very well indeed, thank you. It's an easy thing going
out once the way is plain."

She smiled in assent.

"Good-bye, Mr. Linnie; another time I hope to have
more leisure."

The door opened, hung a moment, then closed behind a
defeated and stricken maa

CHAPTER LI

CONNIE MAKES A CONFESSION

SHE turned back to find the laird on his feet, as if also
ready to go.

with^hT ';',";<^' Mi'^'Ogi'vie," he said, stooping towards her
m h h,s old.fash,oned gallantry, "my errand is as futile as
Mr. Lmme s You may think each of us was bom far from

lol ^Z ? r '""^'"* •"" ^ ^^"^^ y°" 'his visit was
not meant to be impertinent."

"Please do not talk like that, Mr. MacLean," she

She took him by the hand and, hardly sensible of the
act led h,m to another part of the room, her own favourite
comer, where they sat down together. An embarrassing
s lence followed. He saw her flushing and paling, noti^

h milf'""?'"' "' t"'' '""" °f ""'' >-' -• «"' said to
himself matters must be graver than he ha. fancied. His
heart swelled in compassion, for at the sight of beauty in
distress he was a very Don Quixote. Man, geneL y
speaking, was made to fight with, but woman to protect and
defend. Yet for all his pity he was careful to avoid the
lugubnous mien, because he remembered that when in the
depths of misfortune himself, the sigh and the woeful
countenance were his worst cause of depression. So it was
with an air of positive lightness he said, presently-

I just came to say. Miss Ogilvie, that if an old fellow
i"ke me can be of any sort of use to you in any sort of way
339

«i;

340

A SON OF GAD

;,.'

iii'i

WMl

during your father's absence, I'll take it as a favour if you
let me know."

He spoke as if her father were away on holiday, and
would return happy on the morrow, or the day after. Some
people spoil a kindness by a funereal mode of performance ;
the laird wad all for blitheness, even in deeds of charity.

" You are very good," she answered, striving hard to keep
her emotions in hand.

With Mr. Linnie she had no difficulty, because she
despised, if she did not actually detest him ; and contempt
is an admirable refrigerator for the feelings. But sympathy
melts like a south wind. The very delicacy of the laird, his
obvious desire to avoid the sore spot, drew her irresistibly
towards him. It w^s as one carried whither she knew not,
that she cried out after a tingling silence —

" Oh, Mr. MacLean, you can help me. You understand.
You have known misfortune yourself."

To the laird it seemed an electric belt had been flung
about him, binding him to this usurper of his place.

"Yes," he answered, gazing in wonder, " I have known
misfortune."

"Then you can feel for others," she said, her breath
coming very quick and hard.

"God knows I can," he returned rather unsteadily. " I
think I've come to the pitch that if I saw my worst enemy
down I'd try to lift him."
A new fear came into Connie's eyes.
"Perhaps," she cried, "you consider us your enemies.

Perh.ps "

"My dear young lady," the laird rejoined impulsively,
"what makes you say that at a moment like this? If I
give you that impression now, call someone who will deal
with me as I deserve. Your enemy ! My dear Miss
Ogilvie, forgive me if I decline to listen to such things."
"Ah, but we are in your place," she persisted, "and I

CONNIE MAKES A CONFESSION 34,

know you loved it and had to leave it Now I can under-
sund what your feelings must have been. It is only
human you should dislike those who displace you."

truth fnH *'°"''!" '^'"'^'"'^ '^^ ^'^'^ vehemently, flinging
truth and conscience to the wind

You were bom here; your happiest days were passed
here ; here you had your greatest loss ; here your son grew
up and you had to leave it all. Believe me! I undersSnd
at th,s mmute exactly how you must have felt. You know
what the papers are saying," she broke off.

•' Ah ! » he replied, with a mighty effor: to be composed.

But the papers are great liars-great liars. Miss Ogilvie."

temhl! f "' "^^' "°^ "-'^^ '=°"''J "°' ■'^P back the
temble confession. "We are in trouble, Mr. MacLean •
great, great trouble." -^^in ,

all that a MacLean was the confidant, and wondering drew
closer as if for protection. *"

witlt WffK^ 'f ^"^ ""' '''"'•''"S- He regarded her
with an meflable tenderness, the tenderness of a father for
a daughter in affliction.

" ^y dear," he said, with a quivering lip. " trouble comes
to us all sooner or later." He put forth a hand un-
knowing y and laid it on her head. "No one need tell

vour'fS " -""T" ^"' ^°" "' y°™g '"'^ brave, and
your father is clever and brave."

She seized the hand that was on her head and pressed it
in her own. "Thank you for that," she cried. "It's
noble, It s splendid. He is clever and brave "

hriSf. r'^'r?," ^"""P' '° ^■'"''''•"'^ bis hand, and a big,
bnght tear fell on it like a dewdrop.

"There is no man I admire and respect more than
Duncan Ogilvie," he said, the strong voice vibrating - 1
respected his father before him. We quarrelled, as doubtles.

)

34*

A SON OF GAD

you know, for men are foolish— foolish, foolish. But even
then I respected him ten times more than most men I
never had an ill word with. He went away, and I was too
proud to call him back. Well, I was punished. The just
God metes out justice in His own good time— not hasting,
but never failing. I was wrong, and John Ogilvie was
right."

It was the first time he had owned so much openly.
What made him confess to this helpless, beseeching slip
of a girl? He confessed because she was helpless, because
she was troubled, because she was the grandchild of the
wronged man, and above and beyond all because she
wound about his heart.

" Yes," he repeated to tingling ears, " I was wrong, and
John Ogilvie was right. I never knew a better man than
John Ogilvie; and do you know this, I observe that the
good man's son has often the reward denied to himself?
Oh, God deals justly in the end, and don't you doubt it.
He rules in His own way ; He has a million instruments
and ten million ways of using them. I am old enough to
have learnt this lesson, that the prideful man is just like a
bubble or a fleck of foam on the flood. As you remind
me, I had to leave Dunveagle; and who succeeded me?
John Ogilvie's son. And what is my place now? The
place John Ogilvie left. I have read some books now and
again, Miss Ogilvie, but I have never known novelist or
poet who could devise half the surprises that are everyday
aflairs with destiny. Why do I say all ths to you, my
dear? I will answer in a word: to let you see that I
understand."

" Your experience is likely to be ours too ; we may have
to leave Dunveagle as you left it," she said, with a sob
which racked the laird's heart.

" God forbid ! " he cried fer\'ently. " You mustn't give
way to dismal thoughts. If I'm doleful, don't imitate me.

CONNIE MAKES A CONFESSION 343

It's the privilege of the old to draw long faces, but the
young were meant to smile."

"Indeed, Mr. MacLean," was the response, "the old,
I think, are braver and brighter than the young. There's
Grannie ; she puts me to shame."
" How is Mrs. Ogilvie ? " the laird asked gently.
" I will bring her," Connie replied, springing up. " She
would like to see you, I'm sure." And before he could say
"nay "she was off.

" Now I've done it," he thought, his eyes fast on the
door. " Now in very truth I've gone and done it."

He did not think thus regretfully nor self-reproachfully as
the victim of a too generous impulse, but rather as one
who surprises himself with a good deed, and on the whole
is gratified.

His eyes were still on the door when it opened and the
two women entered together, the arm of the younger
affectionately about the waist of the elder. He gave the
cordial hand of friendship to Mrs. Ogilvie, apologising for
his intrusion ; but at that both called out in protest, and he
sat down, bending gracefully to their will. Mrs. Ogilvie
thanked him in set terms for his neighbourly spirit at a
trying time, and he made valorous attempts to divert her.
A stranger witnessing his behaviour might well have
reckoned him frivolous, if not flinty-hearted, so little he
seemed to be aware of any occasion for sighs or dolour.
With fears of "a scene" quick within him, he was vividly
eager to keep Mrs. Ogilvie off the track of misfortune, for
he reflected, "Woebegone talk leads to tears, tears to
hysterics, and what could I do with two demented women
on my hands?" So he dealt out his gayest philosophy,
clinching light-spirited wisdom with Gaelic proverbs, subtly
designed for the elder woman.

And here his anxiety nearly defeated itself, for in referring
to her son and his life ar.d death grapple, he remarked, as

34'! A SON OF GAD

it were, sof/o voce, Buaidh 'us piuach air a c/uohh (Success
and luck attend him). The sentiment coming from his
lips made Mrs. Ogilvie's face tremble perilously; but he
was prompt with a gay aphorism, and thus saved the
situation.

" You're a good Highlander yet, Mrs. Ogilvie," he cried.
" Miss Ogilvie has a good drop of the blood too, but you're
out and out one of ourselves."

"Till my last breath," she replied ardently; "till my last
breath."

"Well, you mind the old saying, 'The day's longer than
the brae ; we'll be at the top yet.' "

Swinging deftly into other waters, he broke out on the
wonders of Americd to prove that Mr. Ogilvie must in
the nature of things succeed, and succeed brilliantly. " I
don't pretend to understand it all," he said modestly. " But,
madam, the most wonderful thing in my time has been the
extraordinary, express-speed advance of America. I count
the Americans the most wonderful people living on God's
earth to-day in wealth, enterprise, intelligence, and charm."
He bowed to Connie. " The country was lost to us by the
muddle-headed conceit of English politicians. Ah, madam,
what we suffer at the hands of heaven-bom rulers ! When
Boston harbour was black with tea, and England was look-
ing out her old wives to chastise the refractory colonists, the
great Chatham told her she couldn't conquer America, and
he was right. I'm thinking, from all that I can make out,
that America's turning the tables by conquering us. And it
was but the other day, madam, I discovered myself a
benefactor. You may well look surprised ; I was surprised
too. You may remember a certain transaction long ago, for
which in your heart of hearts you blamed me ; oh, yes, you
must ; and you were right, perfectly right. I was to blame.
But we are all blind instruments, working for results which
we can neither see nor guess. And I tell you the best

CONNIE MAKES A CONFESSION 345

t'o AmL'd" '" '" " ''"" "" '° •^"'' J""" Ogilvie

He was again on dangerous ground, but proceeded too
impetuously to be interrupted.

"Well, his son became the wonder of a world of
wonders. He has done what I in my ignorance would have
said was impossible. Those of us who remain in the Glen
have narrow .deas. Miss Ogilvie. You tell us there are bits
of reverses. Well, what of that? What is it but the man
of action gettmg back into his element? Your .on, madam,
.s where he hkes to be. if I'm any judge of huma^ nature
a captam on the bndge, holding straight in the teeth of the
storm, and well knowing he controls forces that will win. I

''°"wk' x?""' ''™ °^ '^^ ''"" 8'«« °f contending."

Why. Mr. MacLean," Connie cried, tears of gratitude in
her eyes, "you make us glad of a storm."

"My dear young Udy." was the reply, "not every
^^'nn' 'r '. r""!?' •"" '°'"" "^ ^"^ '° ride the whirl-
■n 1 s^2d">" " "• ^''"^ ' "^ '^■-' '= ^^'^
He left pres..ntly, the champion of these two distressed
women, the avowed upholder of the usurper at Dunveagle
-ay, and what was more, glorying in the inconsistency.

Next day Ian Veg brought him a newspaper which had
come in a roundabout way from Mr. Rollo Linnie. Ian
was gnmly elated.

"We'll see them out of that yet, sir," he said. "Oh
ay, and not very long to wait by all a counts."

"Ian Veg," retorted the laird savagely, "it will be better
for you to mmd your own business and cease troubling
your head about the people at the castle."

And Ian went off sorrowfully to tell Alick that the laird
himself had caught the Ogilvie infection, and, to all
appearance, caught it badly.

CHAPTER Lll

AMERICAN WOMANHOOD— LADY ARDVENMORE
IN QUEST OF INFORMATION

AT Dunveagle the laird's goodwill was the more grateful
X\. because unexpected. Besides, he was a man ; and
though in " her hours of ease " woman may be " uncertain,
coy, and hard to please," in trouble she snuggles in-
stinctively to the stronger nature. And these two were to
need all the comfort which the best goodwill could impart.
A second letter came, gently but unmistakably confirming
the worst interpretations of the first. There was neither
shrinking nor despondency ; but disaster had to be faced, a
fact which involved a radical adjustment of policy, which
again involved rigorous retrenchment and a realisation of
assets. A whole day Mrs. Ogilvie kept her own room,
thinking hard, recalling the past and its battles, and fortify-
ing herself for whatever might come with the belief that
in the worst straits, when man is powerless, a higher in-
telligence guides, a higher will controls. It came to that —
that and an unfaltering faith in him who had already done
so much and was still so eager and competent And if the
worst came to the worst, surely she, of all women, knew
how to step down and resume her old place as helper and
counsellor. She could still aid in the task of getting daily
bread.

There comes to old age a mystic reversion to the thoughts
and instincts, if not the energy and activity of youth. The
shades of dawn return at evening twilight, so that despite
346

AMERICAN WOMANHOOD 347

the character of the day's race, despite a great fame or a
shinmg fortune, he who begins a peasant in the essence of
his being ends a peasant. Dwelling much on the past,
reminded every hour of those borne away on the "ever-
rolling stream" of time, Mrs. Ogilvie would have found it
less hard than you would think to toy down her grandeur
and Uke Uj ;l.c old familiar tasks. Her world, though
shaken as hy . „ earthy k., was still intoct.

Connits. > 1 '„. 01 v-r ,,, -1, was shattered, however the
fr^mei u ..ugl.t cjilci.. ■ l:,i, She had never known any
other th^; 'b^ >.p.'M i^-, si.n,|,iuous existence to which her
eariie. remeh-b;in.-. .tr.l.h.U; these devastating December
storms wrre uis;-!,; (he course of Nature as she understood
It for tweiit, years of,-, ummer life. Very bravely she tried
to Uke her -ii-MHlrnulicr's view; but the philosophy of
conduct is of all philosophies the hardest to convert to
reality, and her success was indifferent. The sky had
darkened with a crash ; the golden atmosphere grown chilly
and heavy. A thought which at first she rejected as a wild
impossibility settled by degrees into numbing conviction,
like a mildew of the mind terrifying while it unnerved
Moreover, she had a rankling sense of deception, of craft
and treachery. For certain hints dropped without com-
plaint by her father suggested a very black perfidy.

"Of course, of course," she cried desolately, "the whole
world must turn on the man who is down."

Having assured herself of swiftly descending ruin, she
wrote, as an imperative duty, a letter to Jeff Dunbar, not
merely removing all shadow of engagement, but stating as
m characters of fire that this crisis made an inevitable park-
ing of the ways. Jeff was gallant in expostulation and a
tenderness which, had it come sooner, might have been
effective, and even now tore her heart roots. All the same,
the answer was inexorable : impossible now, for ever im-
possible, that was the word in justice to him and to herself.

^V.

348

A SON OF GAD

She would have been in yet deeper misery but for a silver
lining to the cloud which her eye alone perceived.

The laird had not said that his call was made at his son's
suggestion. In a boiling indignation over newspaper
reports, Norman wrote to his father requesting such in-
formation as could be obtained without meddling or
intrusion. The reply caused him a sleepless night, and
next day he wrote a letter which in turn produced a dis-
tracting commotion. It was written with the delicacy
which half expresses, half conceals, but the recipient read
luminously between the lines, and, woman-like, dissolved in
pure inquietude of joy. Mrs. Ogilvie, finding her in that
evident passion of jdistress, asked the cause, and for reply
received Norman's letter.

" Isn't it noble ? " Connie cried, wiping her eyes.
Mrs. Ogilvie read deliberately, as if to get the full mean-
ing before expressing an opinion.

" Very noble, dear," she said, lifting her head ; " but the
MacLeans w.r- always gentlemen, whatever else they might
or might not be."

Connie knew that, but the knowledge only made the
question of behaviour the more difficult. What was she to
do? How was she to answer? Incapable of hypocrisy,
she would fain have let the cry of her heart rise unchecked.
All her life she had been accustomed to speak frankly as
she felt. But how was she to solve the sphinx-riddle wnich,
once at least, puts every woman on the rack, albeit to
torture with delight? Through all the wrappings of
language one thought, or rather one feeling, burned clear
as a carbon, ay, and scorched when she tried to smother it.
In her soul she revolted passionately against the convention
which seals a woman's lips, making her wait in silence for
the word which the malice of circumstance may for ever
prevent. An unspeakable yearning came upon her. If
only Ae were by to speak to her, in that low, rich voice

AMERICAN WOMANHOOD 34,

eyes She wanted h.m beside her and dared not ask.
That was the cruelty of a woman's position.

For reasons easily guessed he would hesitate to take the
first s ep Pnde and a fear to offend held him back! If
he only knew; and why, oh, why couldn't he guess?

In a torrent of emotion she replied at last, saying not
t'^nL . / uT' '"' '""""^'"S more than she in-
T uT^ ""^ '^"^"■' *"•* '""nented herself over what
she had done. Was she indelicate? Would he under'
stand, and .f so, what would he do ?-all the while feverishly
awaitmg a response which did not come. Then as the
days passed with a narrowing sky and a deepening gloom,
she began, hke a soul in purgatory, to recall word by word
what she wrote. She must have slipped and bungled some-
^r'J?V°\^^^ " '°° clumsy-or, had he miscon-
striied ? Was that disaster to crown all the other disasters ?
In this suspense she was surprised by a visit from Lady
Ardvenmore. Her ladyship had been much occupied since
the happy day of making Miss Ogilvie's acquaintance, and
wa^ only now able to carry out a long-meditated intention.
Infinitely gracious, and more than a little curious, she
referred adroitly to public rumours, managing with high-
bred suavity to indicate that she for one knew better than
to believe anything that appeared in the newspapers.

My dear," she remarked, with the blandness of oil on
green wounds, "the inventor of printing is responsible for
more lies than a whole generation of women, priests, and
pohucans. and that's saying a good deal. Don't you think
so? smiling interrogatively at Mrs. Ogilvie.

Towards Ogilvie's mother she bore herself with some
suspicion of patronage; Ogilvie's daughter she watched
with the narrowness of an interested critic. She was in
lact turning Connie over in her own mind as a sample or
pattern of an article thrust unceremoniously on her atten-

[1 'I

350

A SON OF GAD

tion, to wit, young American womanhood. In casual
meetings abroad, in Paris, on the Riviera, in Rome, on
the Nile, she had always regarded Americans from the
altitude of the British aristocrat, who in a mixed world
must tolerate inferiors. Quite unexpectedly her interest in
them became quick and personal, hence, if the truth must
be told concerning so great a personage, the reason for her
present descent upon Dunveagle.

Business began appropriately with ingenious scouting;
then she veered to the quaUties of Americans as mirrored
in universal opinion, taking care to preserve an attitude of
polite neutrality. Thereupon came an item of family news.

" I have just heard," she told them, " that on Saturday
last my son left Southampton for New York. It seems, my
dear" (Connie being the "dear"), "he struck up a friend-
ship with your young friend Mr. Dunbar, and is now
visiting America as his guest. Took me quite by surprise ;
boys, my dear Mrs. Ogilvie, don't always take pains to
keep their mothers well informed of what's in the wind."

" I thought," said Connie, " Lord Kinluig had returned
to duty."

" So he had, my dear, but where there's a will I suppose
there's always a way. You know how they do things in the
army. Anyway, he's on the Atlantic now."

Connie thought of another officer who had returned to
duty, wondering how the proverb might apply to him.

" I suppose," pursued her ladyship sweetly, " the Dunbars
are very good people. Old Mr. Dunbar, my son mentioned,
died somewhat suddenly and tragically. But I fancy he has
left his family very rich."

Connie promptly confirmed fancies and suppositions.

" Of course, I met young Mr. Dunbar and his sister," her
ladyship added, " only it was casually and in a public place,
as you will remember, my dear Mi.ss Ogilvie. Miss Dunbar
seems — well, may I say a typical American ? "

AMERICAN WOMANHOOD 35,

r Jl';S"^^ ^"" T- °' '^^ ^'' ^"^' '" A^^rica," Connie
replied with emphasis. •' I love her."

"And yet," rejoined her ladyship, wagging a withered
forefinger at Connie. " the love of thl sistefdofs not, I hlar
-but there, there, no ules out of school. I have been
hearing whispers, my dear, whispers of a certain interesting
event— postponed, shall I say ? "

ls!7^Tl """ '" ""■'^^ "^''P*^" g°'"g ^°""d at present.
Lady Ardvenmore, that one can't attend to them all"
Connie answered quietly, and gave the conversation a turn
which marked her in her ladyship's mind as a young person
of no httle tact and discretion. b F "■

When the visitor left with some gratifying information,
Connie remarked to Mrs. Ogilvie, "What did I t.ll you
Grannie? We'll have our good Kitty back as Countes^ of
Ardvenmore yet. The old lady doesn't like it a bit. Well
X m very glad." '

The topic would have been pursued with greater ardour
but for the pressure of more personal events. A moment
perhaps, Connie contrasted Kitty's' prospect with her own!
but not Ignobly nor jealously, for envy or uncharitableness
had no place m her nature. Besides, the course she chose
ma certain affair was her own, and if it involved difficulties
which might be avoided by taking another, well, she stood
to her choice. What she could least endure was the torture
of suspense.

In a mood of nervous anxiety she saw the old year i<</.nK
out in a tempest. It was meet, she told herself, that the
mellow ruddiness and russet of autumn, which had sup-
planted the summer greens and purples, should in turn
yield to the rigours of winter. Christmas saw a wan
frightened moon riding wildly among storm clouds; then
the sky contracted darkly like a gathered pall, and the
snow came with spiteful fluffs and flaws of wind Two
days It snowed with scarce a break; on the third a gale

3S»

A SON OF GAD

swept the heights bare, filling the hollows with drift, piling
the wreath where wreath would hold, with riotous, inimit-
able art. The day after Christmas the castle was enclosed
in "a tumultuous privacy" of blizzard. The two women
looked out from time to time, as under the spell of the
storm, upon a driven, whirling world of grey, and perhaps
drew back with a shiver, thinking it too truly symbolic.

"A real Highland snowstorm," Mrs. Ogilvie remarked
plaintively, and recounted memories of the storms of her
youth and tales of lost men, till Connie almost fancied she
heard shrieks of despair on the wind. A maid entering on
these reminiscences, told that a groom who had gone to
Aberfourie on a household errand had difficulty in making
his way back, adding as an incidental piece of news that he
had seen Captain MacLean and the laird at the station.

B-s^sn

CHAPTER LIII

TWO MESSAGES
JONG after midnight the blast buffeted turret and

sne heard it only at intervals, and not always when i,
shneked loud^t or wrestled most violently, '^or The wa
mentally absorbed in following so^Udy through he snow
m guessmg reasons for his sudden return, and in woS

2rL7l k"'"'- '''"^ ^^ '° ^"""^ her letter in pe Z
or had he been called back by business of his ownin'

.trttiii^i:!?''^--'^-' --^h--

the .magmafve mind that while it keenly foretasteslwiciw
t also conjures up all manner of dark chances in a cS

omoa°ct 7'"' °' ''" "^'"''^ ^' '-=' Connie w^'
compact of imagmation. So she dreamed in altermf^
tremors of joy and fear, hope and despaTr "

in thP^"""™,"^ ""' "■"' "^''y "f°°'- The storm had died
n the daw^, leavmg a white chaos, from which trees and
roks stood out with the haggard gauntness of skdeto„s
Lookmg upward from her window, Comiie's eye insdn t "ly
o SlT ^™f ""'^' ^h- black dots were visible moving

Lllr/r ^'''^S™"S ^l^"' 'heir werk. and once she

7lter^""T °^ ""' '"'■■'' ' ""' 'hough she looked long
and mtently. she saw none else. ^

At breakfast Mrs. Ogilvie spoke of the fury of the «orm
and hoped Captain Maclean and his father got home T '

if
li

353

: Eafely.

354

A SON OF GAD

ill

" It would be a fight," she said, " to get to Craigenard last
night. Your grandfather, I remember well, was nearly lost
on just such a night. I wonder what brings the captain
back again so soon after rejoining his regiment."

She looked to her granddaughter as for enlightenment,
but a crumb going awry in Coimie's throat brought a fit of
coughing. When it passed her face was crimson. " Gone
the wrong way, dear ? " her grandmother asked simply.

" Absurd," answered Connie, with a little laugh. " Tell
me about grandfather," she added, ignoring the reference to
the captain's unexpected return.

The arrival of the post-bag turned their thoughts to other
things. Though desperately impatient for news, the two
women had — unkrtown to each other — grown afraid of the
American mail. It was with a distinct tremor therefore
that Connie picked up a letter addressed in her father's
hand and another in Kitty's. Her father's was read first,
and the reading made her face as white as the snow outside.
For an instant the world reeled — as wrecked worlds will-
but she rallied herself, compressed her lips firmly, and read
again. The message was tenderly affectionate, but affection
could not hide, however it might veil, the terrible purport.
Connie was to make arrangements, as quickly as might be,
for returning to New York ; what was to follow made her
shudder to think of.

" I did not expect when I left to have to write to you
like this," her father said. "But one advantage will be
that I can have you both beside me. I own myself a
miser in one respect, and think I can do best when the
possessions dearest to me are close at hand. I have the
best hope for the future, but at present I am like a sick
man who cannot get well without an operation. Let us
have the operation then, and be done with it. This
decision, as you will believe, my dearest Con, is not made
hastily. I live now for Gratmie and yourself. I am to

if.v^J^^'SiP^*^-

3S5

TWO MESSAGES

ho>. little on/canTel?„„,h'' ""' '"""'' '^'«-'>' '^ow
are committed to oth t Md/ Tn" "'^" ''=* '"'"^'^
bitter with the sweet l Ho '•' ""^ ■""*' ^"^^ 'he

neither of my heroines will p°l ''P'?' ^"'^ ^ =*"> ''"re
thousand chances In T ./""""^'^'V 'here are still a
he hardly everles "aJai^'lT "" ^ '"^" '^ ''-"
own fault ir he does n^'r^g „ t ' Z T "' ', "'^
makmg an honest effort Don'fV u "■" ^' ''^■^'

«ill ride with her noset the.. ''^- '^''^ "'^ ''hip

Tears blinded Conn e bt'h " '"' "'" ""'^ '"^'^^ P°«'"
comment to Mrs. OgS who ir't ""^ '"'" '^■■"'°"'
carried it off to her^o^rlm S" °"" '■"'■^^^"«'''
Comiie tore it open ZtT^' f^^ "^ *^'«y'^ '«'".
found it a st,angeTo„Sr^^,^"'l ^''" 'o read. She
hardly seemed to be aTa,e o^" f ."'l '''" """"^^
indeed a passing referencl^n ^'^'^Phc- There was

^he did n^t prj:^zz:z?''ir '"'-'"-'-'

remonstrance with Connie for^, • '" """^ * "sht

affections of Jeff Buri '^ '""^ '° '°"e '^"h the
'etter lay in t^J ' ^^l'' ^\^ --' P"rPosc of ,he
really accepted SsT;/.'' "^ '''.! ''"^"^ ^'"'"'^ had
-ciety goss^s we!: bus r: S'To'^r T '''^'^ "-^
dear," Kitty asseverated '.:' ^TL? ^"' ':"'°"^'''

- iwiiT^uttuir'^^''^"''""'^^^^''''

with her own wint" s^^ A hr"'^:' .'"' '°° ••="

^°Kr:t:i::btr ^^^^^

Her heart g..^a.r-rt^;P-^-ng.

«'.*na:« ii.\:si<wv

3S6

A SON OF GAD

her glass was levelled, and then dropped with a gesture
of disappointment. It was only Alick. But even Alick
was a speck of life in that dead scene, and she watched
indifferently. When, however, he deflected from the road
into the path leading through the woods to Dunveagle,
her interest leapt up again. Could he be bringing a
message for her? She kept her eyes on him till he
disappeared among the upper pines, and then remembering
duty ran conscience-stricken to her grandmother. As she
entered Mrs. Ogilvie lifted a drawn, pallid face. " It has
come, dearie," she said, a large tear trembling on her lid.

Unable to speak, Connie ran forward with open arms,
and for a minute the two held each other in a tight,
speechless embrace. Connie drew off, dashinj^ the tears
away, and accusing herself of being ridicuKius. " I'm just
a big baby, a big donkey," she cried, and disappeared
to wash the stains from her face.

That operation was scarcely performed, when a note was
handed to her with the announcement that the messenger
was waiting for an answvr.

" Send him to me," she said, and tore the envelope open
in an excruciating excitement. WTiat she read was brief and
soldierly. The writer had returr.cd for a little on private
business, would like to pay bis re.pects at Dunveagle, arid
as time was short asked if he might call that aftemocn.

When Alick arrived she made him sit down, regardless
of a trickle of melting snow on the carpet to tell her
about his descent through the drifts, about the storm,
and the captain's arrival.

"Him and the laird was fairly done when they got
home," he told her; "they lost the road, and it was the
horse that found it for them again."

She regarded him for a moment as if further questions
were on her tongue, but if so she changed her mind, rang
the bell, and sent Alick off to New Year cheer while she
wrote her reply.

TWO MESSAGES jj,

The smirking messenger despatched homeward, she
gazed after h.m till he disappeared in the wood, waited for
his reappearance above, and step by step accompanied him
on the open slope beyond, watching the more intently the
smaller he grew. When at last the black dot vanished from
the ground of white, she shook in an ecsUsy of excitement.
Hes got It, she cried within herself, " he's got it," and
shut her eyes, the better to picture the scene within-the
capta.n takmg the letter-eagerly, he must take it eagerly-
opemng ,,. reading it, and-but she durst not imagine more.
I hen for a while she devoted herself with passionate
assiduity to her grandmother.

In her practical Scots fashion the older woman had
already begun to prepare for the departure, sighing at
he need, but with no thought of repining or turning back
Connie could not so easily accept the idea of surrender
Her mind vacillated electrically between a despairinc
gloom and a dazzling brightness, which at times blended
and interpenetrated so that she hardly knew the dream
from the reality. To the dream she clung with her whole
soul ; the reality she flung from her in a passion of revolt

It was Mrs. Ogilvies custom in the afternoon to take an
hour's nap, and though to^lay there was little chance of
sleep, she lay down as usual, though somewhat later, h-f
to herself, a torturing restlessness fell upon Conni.-. .«',-.
fought against it. reminded herself of the need to be ^^n'
thought pityingly of her father striving among the wrctkag.
in New York, and on a filial impulse wrote half a let^r
which was torn up as drivel. A book was opened ,'
chance, turned over, and thrown aside as if it were imprinted
dulness. Then she went from room to room in a distressi.ig
expectancy, seeking something that was not to be found,
and finally coming on a fur-lined mantle and a sealskin cap,
remmiscences of sleighing delights in New York, she
hastily put them on, hardly knowing why, and went out

3S8 A SON OF GAD

The weather was stiH and crisp, with the sparkle of frost
in the air, and the snow glittering rosily in the red splendour
of a wintry sun. In its ethereal moods winter is by far the
most lightsome of the seasons; and Connie was not ten
minutes out when it had communicated its own fine
buoyancy to her senses. After a turn or two in the castle
grounds she struck, as from sheer rapture of motion, into
Dunveagle woods, the brisk creaking of the frosted snow
under foot animating the spirits like music.

In the hollows the shadows were already deepening from
blue to black, but she had no thought of night, so ex-
quisitely this magic elixir of air and exercise acted on the
heart, precipitated every morbid particle in the blood. Once
or twice, indeed, it o<:curred to her that she must not go too
far, nor be too long absent. Grannie would be up and
asking for her, and unable to get information might be
alarmed. Besides, there was the need to be 'wck in time
to receive visitors. Yet under the stimulus of rarefied air
and rebounding spirits she held on, sniffing wintry scents of
pine and birch, admiring the curved lines of the snow
wreaths and the flush that warmed the frosted mountains.

In this elasticity of mind and body she reached the elbow
or crook of the stream where one summer day, not many
ages ago, as she lay watching the sportive trout, a stranger
unwittingly intruded. She remembered every incident of
that day as if it had occurred but an hour before, ay, to the
minutest throb of her own surprised heart. Drawing near
she peered over a gleaming bank of snow into the steely-cold
water. The trout were still there, darting with the twinkle
of icicles.

All at once she turned, her face uplifted at the sound of
crunching feet. Then her heart stopped as Captain MacLean
came swiftly round the great rock above. The air seemed
to tingle ; her head was spinning. Before she quite knew
what was happening, he held her by the hand.

CHAPTER LIV

THE KING AND HIS OWN

AND when she found tongue, what did she catch herself
^ saying? Not words of conventional greeting, not even
of surpnse but rather of radiant gladness, as of'one who,
having waited long, is at last happy.

"You have come," she said, a thousand speeches in the
glow of her eyes.

"I was coming," he answered, thinking of the note that
ky close to his heart. "I did not expect this pleasure-
He would fain have asked, "Did you come to meet me?"
t)ut on that presumption his lips shut fast.

A thrilling silence followed. Connie turned to the
snowy heights, remarking their grandeur; but had she
spoken as she felt, her cry would have been that of the
intoxicated singer—

"Are the hills and the lawns where we roam unsteady?
Ur IS It my brain that reels away ? "

She hardly saw the magnificence she extolled. She was
not thinking of snowy heights, nor was he.

It was the moment when the wintry Highland sun, goins
down in fiery splendour, tinges the cold virgin white with a
ruddy warmth, making the diamonds of the snow crystals
flash, and the spectral trees gleam with reflected fire. The
radance streaming between two silver peaks suffused her
with new beauty.

" It is very different from what it was when we met here
tJetore, he responded, trying to keep the tumult out of his
voice.

359

i' I

MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TBT CHART

(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2)

A APPLIED IM^GE In

^^ 1653 East Main Street

".a Rochesler, Ncm York 14609 USA

'-SSS (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone

^S (716) 288- 5989 - Foi.

360

A SON OF GAD

" Do you remember it ? " she asked, with an eager smile.
"Ah, it was summer then; now it is winter, winter," she
repeated, turning to go, " when everything is cold and bare."

For a minute he walked silently beside her in a fever of
concern and pity,

" Miss Ogilvie," he blurted out suddenly, "will you pardon
me for speaking plainly on a matter on which I feel strongly?
We soldiers have the reputation of being blunt, and assuredly
some of us at least cannot shape our tongues to fine phrases."

She gasped as if something plucked at her heart, feeling
as though she must swoon ; yet by some miraculous power
she kept a fair semblance of self-control.

" Yes, Captain MacLean," she answ-red simply.

"If I blunder you will understand?" he said.

With eyes on the ground, she promised to try, and he
went on —

"Well, then, let me begin by saying that I have read
something of what has appeared in the papers."

She lifted her head quickly.

"The papers have been saying cruel things," she said,
flushing.

" And untrue," he added. " I don't believe them."

She walked a little in silence, then said in a low but
vibrating voice —

" You are very good. Some not only believe the reports,
but add to them."

"Cowards!" he returned so fiercely that she started. "You
will always find cowards. They are weeds that flourish in
every soil. But in this instance they will get the he yet."

He saw her quiver as in pain, and was rating himself for
a crass blunderer when she cried out in an abandon of
anguish, " Oh, Captain MacLean, it is true ; it is true ! "
and fluttered away like a wounded bird. Norman stood
inert, gazing after her, a strange mist in his eyes. What
was he to do ? He had made terms with an enemy, stood

THE KING AND HIS OWN ^g,

andMrr'"''^'" ' ^J"."'' ''"^ '^^ ^'' °"'='de his experience,
d?d n„7 f '■' *"'"""• ^""""''^ discovered that he

hl"f ■HeT, "•'^':; '°"°-' ^""^ ^''"^ '^ f^"- heart tdd
lit u } " •^"'""'"S ">«•" But the next minute he
w^ by her s.de. very pale and, a, =he rather felt than saw

" You t^l 1^'''"^'°' ''"^ "'°"S ^•^'^ '^^d done him.
You tell me, Miss Ogilvie, it is true?"

The words came from a dry, stifled throat.

Yes, she replied ; and then desperately, " But, Captain

Maclean, let us talk of something else for thL little whiKe

are together. I must not worry you with my troubles '

The response was as a shock of electricity.

Ihen I may turn and go back," he said in acute dis-

appomtmem, and pulled up as if suiting the action to t

the^fL'n'slr '" ^ ™'^ '" ^°°' unconsciously kicked

"No," she pleaded; "please don't do that."

M.SS Ogilvie," he rejoined in a choked voice, "I have

already told you-perhaps it wasn't necessa,y-tkat I am
a man of u, ^^^^^ ^^^ ^ ^^^ .^ _^^.y^^^ ^ I am

more'vjLt ~"' '"'"'' "'"^ ''"''"' ''' ="°-
When I read those reports my blood boiled. I could not

live to h""r' '° "' '"'"' ^"^ ' "^^-"^ ''-'' - icia
leave to hear from yourself they were false "

sob ^' uf^uf "°^j' °^ >'°"'" ^he replied, keeping down a
sob. I w,sh I could tell you they are false, but I cannot
They are true, and they mean more than anyone here

What do you mean? " he demanded, amazement giving

his tone a touch of brusqueness. ^ ^

"I mean," she answered, her face wrung with misery.

; il

36a

A SON OF GAD

You are the first outside of our-

but she could hear that he

"that we must leave it.
selves who knows."

She durst not look at him ;
was breathing very hard.

" Miss Ogilvie," he returned, with the emphasis of his
whole being, "you must not, you shall not leave Dunveagle."

It seemed to Connie that fireflies all at once began to
dance in the falling dusk.

" Ah, but we must leave it, Captain MacLean," she said,
her heartbreak in her voice. " We are preparing even now."

"You must not," he retorted almost angrily. "Until
I met you I was a poor man — poor in a worldly and in
every other sense. Since then I have in every sense grown
rich. Will you not permit me to help you ? "

She swayed as if falling, and instinctively he put forth
a hand to support her. He was startled to find her quaking
as in an ague.

" You are ill," he cried in alarm. " I have vexed you.
I should not have spoken as I did, but — but, dear Miss
Ogilvie, it was my reason for coming back, and I couldn't
keep it to myself."

" You are very good," she murmured, and he fancied her
gloved hand pressed his own.

" No," he corrected, " the goodness is all on the other
side. You know a little of Mr. Ogilvie's kindneso to me.
What he did was a miracle of generosity, and I cannot
stand by if any little aid of mine can be of use. I met
him as the enemy of my house ; at any rate, as the usurper
of my place and inheritance. There was a deep prejudice,
but he and you overcame it. Nay, more; through him
there came to me what I never had before— money, money
in abundance. It is every penny at his, at your service
if you will accept it."

"But, Captain MacLean," she answered in palpitating
admiration and gratitude, "we cannot dream of that. I
cannot consent to your risking money for us. Get back
with it the birthright that was taken from you. As for

THE KING AND HIS OWN 363

wnrbelTl'" '" T""'' "°'"'- «"' -'""^ =°J°"'n here
wm be as a parsing dream, to think over in quiet moments

dTctnitVnr '7' d^^.P-haps,V'm~vi:i;

deserve to ^ If ^°\ ^'^ ^°" °"^''' '° ^' «''^^'= y°"
aeserve to be. If my father were here he would tell you

what I cannot. But, dear Captain MacLean, take mv HI

expressed gratitude; it is poo, but it could not well bJ

more hearty or genuine."

Ending with a rush, she insensibly laid a hand on his
arm, and the touch was as fire.

"It is unkind of you to be ironical," he replied the

ironical! she repeated. "God knn«.<: f k„j
thought r irony. I ^sh I couS make/ou fee hoi"
grateful I am, Captain MacLain."

"I don't want gratitude." he cried. "I want "-the

What ? she asked, drawmg in her breath sharply.
A dizzymg thnll passed through -"^rman. Dare he take

Not^^o^i^'r '"' ""T' ^"'^ ■ "P-- '° 'he hLTl
Not now, not now. He could not, would not act like a

rtffr„tr""^ '--' -' ^^' ^^^ -'• - ^

"Suppose what you suggest were possible," he said, whio-
pmg out o the central current .0 collect his thoughVs. "^
I he reply was swift and decisive.
" Then the King would have his own again "
It was his turn to find the air full of fireflies.
_ You mock me." he cried ; " you mock me."

JhJfU T^ ^ ^°°^' ^^"'^'■°"'' ^'^^^ ™^n "ever waste
other thought on me. Why do you say or imagine that ? "

••armh ru'V"'''""'™' he could almost feel her
^arm breath, but the dusk prevented him from s.eing her

"Z^rKT^l •""" ^'""''^^ ^"^""g '"'^ ^ drunken man.
Becau e oh 1 he ended on a note of tragic disappoint-
mem. I have no right to speak, no right whatever:"

3^4

A SON OF GAD

" If you don't speak I'll complain you are unkind ;o me,"
was the response made with a coolness that surprised herself.
"Then," he cried, like a man making a burst for life,
"you must not, you cannot leave Dunveagle. Will you
bear with me if I tell you something ? If I am rude, if I
take a liberty, turn about and leave me."
She neither spoke nor moved, and he went on headlong.
" I told you I came back to hear from yourself that the
newspaper reports were false or exaggerated; that is true,
and yet "—he almost choked on the confession—" it is not
the whole truth. I began to draw pictures in my own
mind. You were always the central figure, and you were
always at Dunveagle. I could not separate you from
Dunveagle. I thought that, that in case of the worst in
New York— I thought of the possibility you have suggested,
and you were still at Dunveagle. And it was your own,
all your very own to do with as you liked."

"That is impossible," she s.'iid, in a tone which the fates
decreed he should misinterpret. Her bosom was dancing ;
her face snow-white ; but how could he know that ?

"Then my picture is demolished," he replied in an
accent of despair. " But since I began, Miss Ogilvie, let
me end. I was sorry all this had come upon you."

" You need not tell me. I am sure of that," she replied,
smothering a flame-like emotion.

" Yes," he continued impetuously. " But I have some-
thing else to tell you. I said I was sorry. That's true,
and yet, God forgive me, I was glad also."
" Of getting back," she said, holding her breath.
" No, no. Miss Ogilvie, not that," he cried, his tongue
and throat parched. " At any rate I was not thinking of
myself, and yet it was for myself I was planning. Only
you were in the plan. All depended on you."

In the gathering darkness her hand sought his; he
gripped it like a vice, and for a little there was no sound
but the purling of the bum under its snow banks and the
hot beating of two hearts.

THE KIMJ AND HIS OWN 363

" Is my dream too wild ? " he asked, his whole passionate-
being in the question.

He felt her quivering as she answered softly—

" Your goodness prompts you to too much. You forget
all that these changes mean. You ought to be at Dun-
veagle; but my place is elsewhere."

In crises of human affairs cross currents, half-under-
standings, wrong constructions are the very tools of
mischief. Too much boldness, too little boldness, a hair's
breadth this way or that, a strained inflection, the mis-
interpretation of a word, a look, a tone, a gesture, and
two souls drawing together are off at a tangent that may
end in separation wide as the poles. While she was think-
ing how generous, how noble he was, and telling herself
that love could not permit the sacrifice he proposed, he
thought she was merely parrying to keep him at arm's
length till he should grow weary or disgusted and desist.
"Then mine is elsewhere too," he returned, like one
incurably hurt. "I am very properly punished."

An exquisite pain and terror seized her. How was she to
put him right while, at the same time, keeping herself right ?
He had come back to her once, drawn by what mystic cord
she could guess. But a subtle feminine intelligence told
her that if he left her now he would never return, never,
never. It was as if for one fiery, dazing instant she held the
choice of happiness or misery for eternity, and, by a fateful
spell, was prevented from deciding. Fed by imagination, her
fears became a dizzying panic. Already he appeared to be
slipping from her, fading into the darkness of night; and
the passion of her heart was a throttling agony.

Without knowing it she withdrew her hand from his, and
he took that act of unconsciousness as another measure in
the process of disillusionment and dismissal. She blamed
him for not understanding; he condemned himself for
presumption; and soldier-like shut his lips to take his
punishment in silence. Honour, chivalry, delicacy, every
sentiment that holds woman in reverence, that makes a

366

A SON OF GAD

man the son of his n.jther, the brother of his sister, the
lover of his wife, forbade him to speak more, except to offer
apologies for vexing her. He had done what he ought not
tu have done. He had been mistaken : for a moment had
perhaps forgotten himself. He craved her pardon. Would
she forget and forgive ?

Was he bent on driving her mad, or mt.ely on pushing
maiden reserve to extremity ?

"You are wrong, quite wrong," she cried, her voice
breakmg on a sob.

Something in the tone rather than in the words illumined
as by a lightning flash, the darkness of his mind. Like a
dnftmg sailor rescued on a pitchy night, he came swiftly
back to light on a tide that mingled its spray with the very
stars. He saw the figure by his side sway and bend
towards him. His arms opened and she melted into them,
shaking m the throes of her great fear, her sudden bliss. In
a blind ecstasy of endearment he comforted her. The
swtjtest words she had ever heard sounded in her ears, and
she lifted her face to his.

Stars came out thick and fast in the frosty sky, and the
low moon peered at them through a silvery gap, chastely as
m her first peep at Endymion ; but except a- lamps by
which to see each other's happiness they thought of neither
moon nor stars.

When the captain was leaving the castle some hours later,
Connie saw him alone to the door.

"Do you know what day it will be to-morrow?" she
asked, and as he did not immediately reply, being deeply
engaged m studying her face, she laughed. "Of course
you don't ; men never do remember the righ thing. It's the
New Year. And, sweetheart, that's for luck."

But when with a like rite he would hi, e reciprocated her
good wishes, she drew back, a gleaming forefinger raised in
protest.

" To-morrow," she said. " To-morrow— perhaps."

CHAPTER LV

HANDS ACROSS THE SEA

T^HE frost relaxed, and the earth came out in spots, as
A if the landscape had contracted a virulent erurx'ivc
disease, then was gently hidden again under a stainless
white that fell without tremor or breath of wind, so that
tree and eave glistered as with gems and filigree of chased
silver. A little while, and many waters lifted up their
voices and sang together. Sudden thaws and freshets
made the bums boil, and the turbid rivers scoop their
banks furiously, and even overflow like old Nile. The
Veagle came down grandly in brown cataracts that filled
the air with the low music of thunder. Bogs and fields
gleamed bleakly, as if only recovering from .he flood and
every furrow in the hillsides was a l.aping brook.

Then day by day the sun stayed longer and grew more
genial. Fresh scents were in the air. The earth, putting
off- desolation and drowsiness, was weaving herself the
garments of a new life. Saps were moving resistlessly in
the woodlands, primroses gleamed in protected nooks
and the young grass of the valleys tempted sheep from
insucculent heights above.

In this rejuvenating tide of spring Mr. Ogilvie returned
for a httle to Dunveagle. He had pressed Connie to go to
him m New York, but she made puzzling excuses, and
finally begged him to come home. He noted the word
"home," and read in it large, new meanings.

Perhaps he was not struck with amazement when she
confided ner great secret, nor was he displeased, only a
367

368

A SON OF GAD

'■I

little sad in losing one about whom the tendrils of I
heart entwined with uncommon fondness.

"Ah. Con, Con I" he said. "Unkind Con, wanting
forsake your |)oor old father."

"Papa, you're not sorry?" she cried, looking into h
eyes with a pretty dismay.

"I can never be sorry, dear, over anything that mak(
you happy," was the answer. "Only, you see, I'm su
rendering my own sweetheart to another, and that's a goo
deal to ask of one."

She closed his mouth with a kiss, and setting herself o
his knee, accused him of not telling her what he thought c
Norman. What she hungered for was praise, not of he,
seit, out of hmt.

"As you know, I always thought well of him," her fathe
replied. "And I don't think less of him now when yoi
have honoured him."

" He deserves far more honour than mine," she rejoined
toying with a button.

"Stick to that, darling, and God bless you," was the
response. " May he always be so to you, so that whateve.
comes-and there are more twists and turnings in life than
my little Con dreams of-you may cling to him secure in
your trust. So long as a woman adores the man of her
choice she cannot be unhappy. When she ceases to adore
him I believe nothing in this world will be compensation
for that falling away."

" I am sure," she declared, tears of joy and pride in her
eyes, "any woman would adore Norman, and be gUd in
his courage and noble in his nobility."

"He is lucky who has such a champion," her father said
quietly. " Well, I wish my little sweetheart, the sweetheart
who has grown up beside me, many good things, but I can
wish her nothing in this worid half so good as a husband
of whom she can continue to use the words she has used

HANDS ACROSS THE SEA 369

now. It will be better for her than heaps of gold and troops
of servants. By the wa,/ he broke off, "Jeff Dunbar did
not seem too happy when e parted in New York."

" Poor Jeff ! " Connie returned wistfully. " I like him • I
like him very much. But 1 always felt we were not mclnt
for each other. Now I know."

"You are sure of your choice, ihen?"
" Grannie has often told me about mother and you ; and
I am as suru as she was."

She nestled closer, and he kissed her, stroking the fair
hair till it was all disordered.

"I was very happy then," he said in a low voice, "and
I daresay Norman is very happy now."

For answer she snuggled yet closer, and put a tight ri"ht
arm about his neck. In this affectionate attitude IvTrs
Ogilvie found them.

"Upon my word," she cried, feig..mg lightness, "you
two carry on like lovers."

"So we are. Grannie dear," replied Connie, lifting her
head and smilmg; "very fond lovers."
"That's good, dearie," Mrs. Ogilvie said in a changed

tone. " I've had three lovers in my day, and "

"Oh, you naughty, naughty old woman !" Connie cried
springing up. " Who were they ? Come, you must tell." '
"If I must, I must. Well, the first was my father—
a giri should always be head and ears in love with her
father ; the second w-^s my husband ; the third is my son
A woman with three .uch lovers has her fill of happiness ;
and I can wish you, dearie, nothing better in thi^ life."

Connie put out a hand to each and drew them together
herself standing half between.

"We'll share your last lover. Grannie," she sa'd, with
a solemn joy and prido. " He's not all yours, nor all mine
He belongs to us both."

As she spoke a ray of sunshine fell on them thus grouped,
and Connie took it as a good omen.
2 B

370

A SON OF GAD

Norman paid a flying visit to ace Mr. Ogilvie and arrange
matters, the mere thought of which strung Connie's ncrvei
to the cracking point. He had his own plans, which he
pushed to an issue with the intrepidity of a soldier. But
on one point at least Mr. Ogilvie was equally determined,
the ardour on each side (contrary to rule) being on behalf
of the other.

In America Mr. Ogilvie's strong head and hand were
beginning to bring order once more out of chaos. It had
been suggested to him that he should compound in the
customary way, and thus at a stroke wipe out half his debt ;
but he resolutely shook his head.

"A whole cc science, if possible," he said, "and after
that a sop to pride. If Heaven gives me health, and my
creditors a little time, every man, I think, will have his own."
Many called him Quixotic, but all admired, for we like in
others the sacrifices for which we have not heart ourselves.
A shrewd few, however, remarked that he was right as
usual, that he was pursuing the best, if the hardest policy,
and would yet recover everything.

"Give me," said a veteran, "the man who builds on
character. That's what tells in the end. Ogilvie's down
to-day, but he's the sort of man wholl be up to-mcrrow ;
and in the meantime his word's good enough for me."

Now in prosperity a certain sum was settled on Connie
.^.u invested in gilt-edge in her own name. When the
crash came, she hastened to place it unreservedly in her
father's hand. Half a second he hesitated under the dire
pressure of circumstances ; then, as we know, returned an
emphatic negative. What was hers should remain hers.
No man could say it had not been legitimately given, and
come what might it was not to be taken back. Besides, in
that mighty vortex in New York it would be but as a drop
to the ocean.

In the swing of events that refusal suggested to Connie

HANDS ACROSS THE SKA

other

37«

> pretty

1 supplementary to Norm: 's. 'ihtn
ngnt m which all three engaged warmly, but for once she
held invmcibly to her purpose.

" All the men and arguments in Christendom won't make
me alter my mind," =he told Norman, laughing fondly in
his face. "So papa and you may just as well give in and
agree gracefully. It isn't much to give a woman her own
way once m a while."

"I didn't mean it to be at all as you propose," Norman
responded, as .f deprived of keenly anticipated pleasure.
" You upset all my plans."

"And must you have your -ay in everything?" she
asked, puttmg her face close to • . " Mind, it's a bad, bad
beginnmg to be selfish."

Norman appealed to Mr. Ogilvie, and was answered
that she WIS now her own mistress. Thereup-n the laird
was taken into counsel, but he was in too -. t a maze
over the domgs of Providence to have any ju „.nent left.
He admitted, however, he was disposed to side with his
son, and was treated as cavalierly as were the others.

So when the inevitable came, those social carpenters
and jomers, the solicitors, were called in to fashion new
covenants according to law. One day a telegram flashed
northward to Aberfourie, passed thence post-haste to
Craigenard, and bowled the laird over in the midst of a
domestic conversation with Janet. It contained but two
words; yet as Janet told Maggie, if the old earth had
stood on us head and whisked an impudent tail in the
suns face the laird could not have been more dumfounded.
1 he pertinent part of the tale ran thus :—

'"Janet woman,' says he, so white and trembly I
thought he was going to fall, though when I looked again
and saw the light in his eye I knew it was no falling
matter. 'Janet,' says he, in the blessed Gaelic speech,
just as I am talking to you, 'you'd hardly believe the

372

A SON OF GAD

queer things that are happening.' ' Deed no, sir,' says I,
'whiles my head's nearly turned with what is happening.'
'Well, Janet,' he says, 'I have a bit of news for you
that'll turn it altogether. Brace up, for you'll need all
your strength, for this is the queerest thing that's happened
in my time. Dunveagle is ours again.' ' God's sake, sir,'
I cried, my heart just jumping in my mouth with fear
and gladness, 'do not be making a fool of me. I was
thinking the other day of lying down quietly to die where
I am.' ' It's a small privilege, that, Janet,' says he. You
know his way 'You can die here or elsewhere, as you
like. But I'm not making a fool of you. Norman's got
it.' And with that I had just to sit down and greet, and
you'd greet too, Maggie, in my place. Well, I looked
up half blind, and as sure's death the laird's eyes were
running nearly as bad as mine. 'Ay,' he said again, as
if he was half speaking to himself to make sure of the
thing, 'he's got it. Norman's got it.' And at that,
Maggie, I just up and gripped his hand and kissed it,
and it was as shaky as my own. But he'd make it all
a joke by his way of it 'Tut, tut, Janet, what's this?'
he said. 'What the devil's come over you?' says he.
'If they catch us like this there'll be a fine splore, and,
Janet woman, we're too old for a scandal.' Did you ever
hear the like of him? Well, who should come walking
in with that but Ian Veg himself. 'Ian,' cries the laird,
putting a handkerchief to his eyes as if he'd been coughing
badly, 'this wife of yours is gone gyte, making love to
an old runt like me. You'll better take her away.' Ian
turned on me, not knowing what to say or think, but
just glowering. ' There, what did I tell you, Janet ? ' says
the laird, laughing to ease himself. 'We're caught, and
there's no jealousy like an old man's jealousy.' Then he
looked queer-hke at Ian ; ' If ye'U not make a Court of
Session case of it, Ian,' says he, 'I'll tell ye something,'

HANDS ACROSS THE SEA

373

and he told him what was come to pass. Ian just gaped,
for he couldn't speak, and didn't like very well to greet
before folk. ' If it was the summer time, Ian,' says the
laird, 'ye'd be having a fine feed of flies. Why, man,
you needn't stare so much, and what in the world's the
matter with your jaw ? '

'"Is it true, sir?' Ian asked, coming to himself.

"'There's the telegram, Ian,' says the laird; 'read for
yourself.' Ian read, and then just gave oiic hooch that
made me jump.

" ' It has come, sir,' he said, looking as if he was beside
himself. ' I knew it would come.'

"'And how did you know it would come?' the laird
asked ; but Ian only kept on saying over and over again,
' I knew it would come.'

" ' Pick it out of him, Janet,' says the laird to me. ' I'm
sure you've got many a secret out of him in your time,' and
that's quite true, Maggie, but I couldn't manage it that time."

Thus Janet. Perhaps the laird did not greatly desire
to press for lan's secret ; but at any rate he took evasion
in good part, ordered Janet to produce the decanter, and
invited them both to drink health and felicity to the new
laird of Dunveagle.

" And now to the new mistress," he cried, when the rite
was performed.

" And who's that, sir ? " Ian asked, with a sudden change
of mien.

At the name he drew a wry face, whereupon the laird
turned on him sternly.

" Ian Veg Mackern, for forty years, more or less, we've
been friends, whiles quarrelling, whiles making up, but
always, I think, friends. But before we're an hour older
we'll quarrel outright, if you don't please me now."

There was the fear of his master's eye, to say nothing of
the temptation of liquor. So Ian drank. Then he went

374

A SON OF GAD

out to seek Alick, who was sunning himself on a rock by the
lower sheepfold.

"Alick," he said, producing a black bottle from the inner
pocket of his coat and a stemless glass from the outer, "it's
in my head that the dram's not just the best thing going for
the like of you. But you'll drink now, my lad, if you go as
dry's a teetotaller for the rest of your days."
He poured out a brimming glass.
" That's to drink the health of the new laird of Dunveagle."
"And what might they call him?" Alick asked, getting
to his feet.

"God bless my heart!" cried Ian, "what's you and me
been doing early and late ? What haf we been scraping up
half-croons for and make Linnie turn out his pockets, and
turning the enemy's guns on themselves, as planned by
somebody I know ? It's not so often Providence helps you
and me, Alick ; but I am pleased to tell you there's to be a
new laird of Dunveagle, and his name's MacLean. You
needn't glower, Alick ; take off your drink."

Then having taken a thimbleful himself to pass the time
while Alick gasped and wiped his eyes, Ian said—

"There's only one thing I don't like. It seems Miss
Ogilvie is to be the new mistress. What d'ye think of that ?
I know you and her's thick ; but you needn't be getting red
in the face, for indeed I'm not going to fight, Alick Ruah.
Folk cannot haf everything they want. It's enough for me
and you that we're going back to Dunveagle. As for the
new mistress, we'll try to thole her. It was the wee store in
the rock that did it, Alick, and the laird never knew.
Think of it, man, he never knew."

In the month of flowers and hopes, when Dunveagle
woods wore their loveliest green, and breathed their sweetest
perfume, preparations for a great festivity were made at the
castle. And on the great night there was not within the

HANDS ACUOSS THK SKA 375

Highland border a piper so proud as Ian Veg Mackern, as
his pipes sounded the welcome home to the captain and his
bride. The fir torches gleamed ruddily on bare knees as
they had gleamed on that far-off night when Alan MacLean
came of age (the electric jets among the ivy remaining for
one evening unht), and the ball that followed was an old-
fashioned jubilant marshalling of the clans. Among those
who danced in honour of his captain was Lord Kinluig, who
showed a very tender interest in a handsome and costly
present which came to the bride from New York. When
congratulated on a certain whispered event he flushed with
pleasure.

"I knew it was coming," Connie said privately to her
husband. " I guessed from the first our good Kitty would
be Countess of Ardvenmore. I'll be so glad to have her
beside me."

"Aren't you sorry, dear, you didn't marry a title?" he
asked her.

But she only smiled up at him, as one whose happiness
is too deep to be disturbed by foolish questions.

As soon as possible after the wedding festivities Mr.
Ogilvie, who had crossed the Atlantic to give his daughter
away, prepared to return to his affairs in New York;
but before going he saw one thing which made him'
speechless, namely, Craigenard made over absolutely to his
mother. Norman had heard her express a longing to be
back there, and next day the old home was hers. So the
great magicians, time and vicissitude, once more restored a
MacLean to Dunveagle, and an Ogilvie to Craigenard. Mrs.
Ogilvie cried softly on taking possession, and even in the
home of her youth might have been unhappy, but for the con-
stant love and solicitude of the new mistress of Dunveagle.
The laird, with his small retinue, returned to the castle,
bringing the treasure he had guarded so zealously through
so many years and hardships. For a little he kept it from

376

A SON OF GAD

all eyes, scarcely knowing what to do with it ; then con-
vinced that the time for delivering it had come, one
evening while his son and daughter-in-law were merry in
the drawing-room he marched in, handed over the bag,
saying it would explain itself, and marched out again swiftly
as if to avoid r/jestions. With feelings not to be described,
Norman and Connie read the letter and handled the gold.

"Will you give them to me, dear?" Connie asked
presently, looking with wet eyes in her husband's white
face. "I'll take good care of them."

"Yes, darling — from my mother to my wife," he answered.
" My father never told me of this."

" Think how th^ loved you," she said quietly, and took
the treasure into her own keeping. But not until Alick's
mysterious hints set Norman inquiring did she confess her
own share in certain plots.

The parting with her father tried her sorely, for they
were chums of twenty years' standing, but she was comforted
by the knowledge that America was again proving kind.

" It's the finest country in the world," her father said.
" No other gives a man of grit and brains so many and
such good chances. I love the old home— like a High-
lander — but I love America too."

"So do I," Connie returned fervently. "So do I. Papa
dear, I'm going to be very happy in Dunveagle, and i m
sure," looking at her husband, " Norman won't be angry or
jealous if I say part of my happiness will be due to friends
beyond the Atlantic. We'll think of one another, visit one
another, often, often."

"Hands across the sea, Con," sai '. her father.

A quick joy shone through her tears.

" Yes," she cried. " Hands across the sea, in a double
sense— yours and mine— Britain's and America's."

KLVMOUTH : W. BRENDON AND SON, PRINTHRS

P -'