dors
of many passing horses and men, there. He knew the smells of poultry
and cheese at a dairy-farm; of hunting dogs and riding-leathers at a
sportsman's trysting inn, and of grist and polluted water at a mill.
And after passing the hilltop toll-bar of Fairmilehead, dipping across a
narrow valley and rounding the base of a sentinel peak, many tame odors
were left behind. At the buildings of the large, scattered farms there
were smells of sheep, and dogs and barn yards. But, for the most part,
after the road began to climb over a high shoulder of the range, there
was just one wild tang of heather and gorse and fern, tingling with salt
air from the German Ocean.

When they reached Cauldbrae farm, high up on the slope, it was entirely
dark. Lights in the small, deep-set windows gave the outlines of a low,
steep-roofed, stone farm-house. Out of the darkness a little wind blown
figure of a lassie fled down the brae to meet the cart, and an eager
little voice, as clear as a hill-bird's piping, cried out:

"Hae ye got ma ain Bobby, faither?"

"Ay, lassie, I fetched 'im hame," the farmer roared back, in his big
voice.

Then the cart was stopped for the wee maid to scramble up over a
wheel, and there were sweet little sounds of kissing and muffled little
cuddlings under the warm plaid. When these soft endearments had been
attended to there was time for another yearning.

"May I haud wee Bobby, faither?"

"Nae, lassie, a bonny bit bairnie couldna haud 'im in 'er sma' airms.
Bobby's a' for gangin' awa' to leev in a grand kirkyaird wi' Auld Jock."

A little gasp, and a wee sob, and an awed question: "Is gude Auld Jock
deid, daddy?"

Bobby heard it and answered with a mournful howl. The lassie snuggled
closer to the warm, beating heart, hid her eyes in the rough plaid, and
cried for Auld Jock and for the grieving little dog.

"Niest to faither an' mither an' big brither Wattie I lo'e Auld Jock an'
Bobby." The bairnie's voice was smothered in the plaidie. Because it was
dark and none were by to see, the reticent Scot could overflow in tender
speech. His arm tightened around this one little ewe lamb of the human
fold on cold slope farm. He comforted the child by telling her how
they would mak' it up to Bobby, and how very soon a wee dog forgets the
keenest sorrow and is happy again.

The sheep-dogs charged the cart with as deafening a clamor of welcome as
if a home-coming had never happened before, and raced the horse acr