more.

But Duncan Polite could not answer; in the midst of his happiness, when
his hopes were at their height, he had been stricken with a great fear.
He understood too well the significance of his pastor's words, the
farewell of Elijah, and, like Elisha, the old man could have cried out
from his very soul, "As the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, I will
not leave thee!" But he knew that this was a Jordan that must be
crossed alone.

The two friends walked up the hill in silence, one filled with a
foreboding, the other with a dread certainty of impending trouble.

"If Maister Cameron's ever ta'en awa frae us, Duncan," said the elder
gloomily, "mark ma word, there'll be trouble in the kirk. We ha'e a
pack o' godless young folk growin' up that need the blue beech gad,
every one o' them, an' if Maister Cameron was ta'en Ah'm no sayin' what
they'd do!"

Duncan had turned and was looking down the hill at a rapidly
approaching figure. His companion followed the direction of his gaze.
"Man, is yon Peter McNabb?" he inquired in amazement.

The feeling was quite natural. To see an elder of the Presbyterian
Church rushing along the public highway without his coat, on the
Sabbath day, was sufficient to raise consternation in the breast of any
Glenorian. Duncan's heart contracted with fear. "Is it the minister?"
he asked tremulously, as the blacksmith came up to them, breathless.

Peter's ruddy face was pale beneath the tan. His eyes fell before the
question as though he were guilty. "Aye, it's jist that," he said with
simple sorrow; "I came for ye both."

The two turned and retraced their steps at his side. Andrew Johnstone
was the first to speak. "He's no gone, Peter?" he asked, with more
than his usual sternness.

"Aye," said the other in a whisper, "that's jist it, Andra, he's gone."

III

A WAR-MAKER AND A PEACE-MAKER

Duncan Polite's valley was slowly disappearing in the shadows of
evening when he stepped from his gate and somewhat hesitatingly turned
down into its purple depths. He was experiencing a strange, almost
uncanny feeling, for, not only was he going to church alone, but he was
actually on his way to worship with the Methodists! He had a vague
fear that he must be doing wrong. But indeed, he was going merely in
the hope that he might hear some comforting words from the Methodist
minister; and Duncan was sadly in need of comfort.

In the long months since Mr. Cameron's death, h