the medical student gone up to the lodge, and the children
had been persuaded to go home to watch the proceedings anxiously from
the amphitheater of the tenement windows, than the kirkyard gate was
slammed back noisily by a man in a hurry. It was the sergeant who, in
the splendor of full uniform, dropped in the wet grass beside Bobby.

"Lush! The sma' dog got hame, an' is still leevin'. Noo, God forgie
me--"

"Eh, man, what had you to do with Bobby's misadventure?"

Mr. Traill fixed an accusing eye on the soldier, remembering suddenly
his laughing threat to kidnap Bobby. The story came out in a flood of
remorseful words, from Bobby's following of the troops so gaily into the
Castle to his desperate escape over the precipice.

"Noo," he said, humbly, "gin it wad be ony satisfaction to ye, I'll gang
up to the Castle an' put on fatigue dress, no' to disgrace the unifarm
o' her Maijesty, an' let ye tak' me oot on the Burghmuir an' gie me a
gude lickin'."

Mr. Traill shrugged his shoulders. "Naething would satisfy me, man, but
to get behind you and kick you over the Firth into the Kingdom of Fife."

He turned an angry back on the sergeant and helped Geordie lift Bobby
onto Mrs. Brown's braided hearth-rug and carry the improvised litter up
to the lodge. In the kitchen the little dog was lowered into a hot bath,
dried, and rubbed with liniments under his fleece. After his lacerated
feet had been cleaned and dressed with healing ointments and tied up,
Bobby was wrapped in Mistress Jeanie's best flannel petticoat and laid
on the hearth-rug, a very comfortable wee dog, who enjoyed his breakfast
of broth and porridge.

Mr. Brown, hearing the commotion and perishing of curiosity, demanded
that some one should come and help him out of bed. As no attention
was paid to him he managed to get up himself and to hobble out to the
kitchen just as Mr. Traill's ain medical man came in. Bobby's spine was
examined again, the tail and toes nipped, the heart tested, and all the
soft parts of his body pressed and punched, in spite of the little dog's
vigorous objections to these indignities.

"Except for sprains and bruises the wee dog is all right. Came down
Castle Crag in the fog, did he? He's a clever and plucky little chap,
indeed, and deserving of a hero medal to hang on the Lord Provost's
collar. You've done very well, Mr. Ross. Just take as good care of him
for a week or so and he could do the gallant deed again."

Mr. Brown list