LITMIR.BIZ

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most people find different; and here the offer of payment added to the difficulty. But the word SHILLING had raised the vision of the old woman in her lonely cottage, brooding over the loss, real or imaginary mattered nothing, of her three far-borne peats. What a happy night, through all the wind and the rain, would a silver shilling under her chaff pillow give her! The thought froze the chief's pride, and warmed his heart. What right had he to deny her such a pleasure! It would cost him nothing! It would even bring him a little amusement! The chief of Clanruadh carrying his game-bag for a Sasunnach fellow to earn a shilling! the idea had a touch of humorous consolation in it. I will not assert the consolation strong enough to cast quite out a certain feeling of shame that mingled with his amusement—a shame which—is it not odd!—he would not have felt had his sporan been full of sovereigns. But the shame was not altogether a shameful one; a fanciful fear of degrading the chieftainship, and a vague sense of the thing being an imposition, had each a part in it. There could be nothing dishonest, however, in thus earning a shilling for poor mistress Conal!

      "I will carry your bag," he said, "but I must have the shilling first, if you please."

      "Oh!" rejoined Valentine Palmer. "You do not trust me! How then am I to trust you?"

      "Sir!" exclaimed Alister—and, again finding himself on the point of being foolish, laughed.

      "I will pay you when the job is done," said Valentine.

      "That is quite fair, but it does not suit my purpose," returned Alister.

      They were walking along the road side by side, but each could scarcely see anything of the other. The sportsman was searching his pockets to find a shilling. He succeeded, and, groping, put it in Alister's hand, with the words—

      "All right! it is only a shilling! There it is! But it is not yours yet: here is the bag!"

      Alister took the bag, turned, and ran back.

      "Hillo!" cried Valentine.

      But Alister had disappeared, and as soon as he turned up the soft path to the cottage, his steps became inaudible through the wind.

      He opened the door, went in, laid the shilling on the back of the old woman's hand, and without a word hurried out again, and down to the road. The stranger was some distance ahead, tramping wearily on through the darkness, and grumbling at his folly in bribing a fellow with a shilling to carry off his game-bag. Alister overtook him.

      "Oh, here you are after all!" exclaimed Valentine. "I thought you had made off with work and wages both! What did you do it for?"

      "I wanted to give the shilling to an old woman close by."

      "Your mother—eh?"

      "No."

      "Your grandmother?"

      "No."

      "SOME relation then!" insisted the stranger.

      "Doubtless," answered the laird, and Valentine thought him a surly fellow.

      They walked on in silence. The youth could hardly keep up with Alister, who thought him ill bred, and did not care for his company.

      "Why do you walk so fast?" said Valentine.

      "Because I want to get home," replied Alister.

      "But I paid you to keep me company!"

      "You paid me to carry your bag. I will leave it at the New House."

      His coolness roused the weary youth.

      "You rascal!" he said; "you keep alongside of me, or I'll pepper you."

      As he spoke, he shifted his gun. But Alister had already, with a few long strides, put a space of utter darkness between them. He had taken the shilling, and must carry the bag, but did not feel bound to personal attendance. At the same time he could not deny there was reason in the man's unwillingness to trust him. What had he about him to give him in pledge? Nothing but his watch, his father's, a gift of THE PRINCE to the head of the family!—he could not profane that by depositing it for a game-bag! He must yield to his employer, moderate his pace, and move side by side with the Sasunnach!

      Again they walked some distance in silence. Alister began to discover that his companion was weary, and his good heart spoke.

      "Let me carry your gun," he said.

      "See you damned!" returned Valentine, with an angry laugh.

      "You fancy your gun protects your bag?"

      "I do."

      The same instant the gun was drawn, with swift quiet force, through the loop of his arm from behind. Feeling himself defenceless, he sprang at the highlander, but he eluded him, and in a moment was out of his reach, lost in the darkness. He heard the lock of one barrel snap: it was not loaded; the second barrel went off, and he gave a great jump, imagining himself struck. The next instant the gun was below his arm again.

      "It will be lighter to carry now!" said the Macruadh; "but if you like I will take it."

      "Take it, then. But no!—By Jove, I wish there was light enough to see what sort of a rascal you look!"

      "You are not very polite!"

      "Mind your own politeness. I was never so roughly served in my life!—by a fellow too that had taken my money! If I knew where to find a magistrate in this beastly place,—"

      "You would tell him I emptied your gun because you threatened me with it!"

      "You were going off with my bag!"

      "Because I undertook to carry your bag, was I bound to endure your company?"

      "Alister!" said a quiet voice out of the darkness.

      The highlander started, and in a tone strangely tremulous, yet with a kind of triumph in it, answered—

      "Ian!"

      The one word said, he stood still, but as in the act to run, staring into the darkness. The next moment he flung down the game-bag, and two men were in each other's arms.

      "Where are you from, Ian?" said the chief at length, in a voice broken with gladness.

      All Valentine understood of the question, for it was in Gaelic, was its emotion, and he scorned a fellow to show the least sign of breaking down.

      "Straight from Moscow," answered the new-comer. "How is our mother?"

      "Well, Ian, thank God!"

      "Then, thank God, all is well!"

      "What brought you home in such haste?"

      "I had a bad dream about my mother, and was a little anxious. There was more reason too, which I will tell you afterwards."

      "What were you doing in Moscow? Have you a furlough?"

      "No; I am a sort of deserter. I would have thrown up my commission, but had not a chance. In Moscow I was teaching in a school to keep out of the way of the police. But I will tell you all by and by."

      The voice was low, veiled, and sad; the joy of the meeting rippled through it like a brook.

      The brothers had forgotten the stranger, and stood talking till the patience of Valentine was as much exhausted as his strength.

      "Are you going to stand there all night?" he said at last. "This is no doubt very interesting to you, but it is rather a bore to one who can neither see you, nor understand a word you say."

      "Is the gentleman a friend of yours, Alister?" asked Ian.

      "Not exactly.—But he is a Sasunnach," he concluded in English, "and we ought not to be speaking Gaelic."

      "I beg his pardon," said Ian. "Will you introduce me?"

      "It is impossible; I do not know his name. I never saw him, and don't see him now. But he insists on my company."

      "That is a great compliment. How far?"

      "To the New House."

      "I

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