to send him up, but he is Tommy Sandys, you see, and--it is a
terrible thing to say, but it's Gospel truth, it's Gospel truth--I'm
trusting to the possibility of his diddling the examiners!"

It was a startling confession for a conscientious dominie, and Cathro
flung out his hands as if to withdraw the words, but his visitor would
have no tampering with them. "So that sums up Tommy, so far as you know
him," he said as he bade his host good-night.

"It does," Cathro admitted, grimly, "but if what you wanted was a
written certificate of character I should like to add this, that never
did any boy sit on my forms whom I had such a pleasure in thrashing."

CHAPTER XXX

END OF THE JACOBITE RISING

In the small hours of the following night the pulse of Thrums stopped
for a moment, and then went on again, but the only watcher remained
silent, and the people rose in the morning without knowing that they had
lost one of their number while they slept. In the same ignorance they
toiled through a long day.

It was a close October day in the end of a summer that had lingered to
give the countryside nothing better than a second crop of haws. Beneath
the beeches leaves lay in yellow heaps like sliced turnip, and over all
the strath was a pink haze; the fields were singed brown, except where a
recent ploughing gave them a mourning border. From early morn men, women
and children (Tommy among them) were in the fields taking up their
potatoes, half-a-dozen gatherers at first to every drill, and by noon it
seemed a dozen, though the new-comers were but stout sacks, now able to
stand alone. By and by heavy-laden carts were trailing into Thrums,
dog-tired toilers hanging on behind, not to be dragged, but for an
incentive to keep them trudging, boys and girls falling asleep on top
of the load, and so neglecting to enjoy the ride which was their
recompense for lifting. A growing mist mixed with the daylight, and
still there were a few people out, falling over their feet with fatigue;
it took silent possession, and then the shadowy forms left in the fields
were motionless and would remain there until carted to garrets and
kitchen corners and other winter quarters on Monday morning. There were
few gad-abouts that Saturday night. Washings were not brought in, though
Mr. Dishart had preached against the unseemly sight of linen hanging on
the line on the Sabbath-day. Innes, stravaiging the square and wynds in
his apple-cart, jingled h