och Moan, lying all abroad among
its green wet heather and stretches of yellow bent.

What struck me as most surprising in this assembly was the entire
absence of anything like concealment. From every quarter, up from the
green meadows of the Minnoch Valley, over the scaurs of the Straiton
hills, down past the craigs of Craigfacie, over from the deep howe of
Carsphairn, streams of men came walking and riding. The sun glinted on
their war-gear. Had there been a trooper within miles, upon any of the
circle of the hills, the dimples of light could not have been missed.
For they caught the sun and flecked the heather--as when one looks upon
a sparkling sea, with the sun rising over it and each wave carrying its
own glint of light with it upon its moving crest.

As I looked, the heart within me became glad with a full-grown joy. So
long had we of the Religion hidden like foxes and run like hares, that
we had forgotten that there were so many in the like case, only needing
drawing together to be the one power in the land. But the time, though
at hand, was not yet.

I asked of a dark long-haired man who stood near us, what was the
meaning of such a gathering. He looked at me with a kind of pity, and I
saw the enthusiasm flash from his eye.

"The Seven Thousand!" he said; "ken ye not the Seven Thousand upon the
hills of Scotland, that never bowed the knee to Baal?"

"Pardon me, friend," said I, "long hiding on the mountains has made me
ignorant. But who are the Seven Thousand?"

"Have ye indeed hidden on the mountains and ken not that? Did ye never
hear of them that wait for the time appointed?"

I told him no.

"Then," said he, "who may you be that kens so little?"

I said that I was William Gordon, younger son of the persecuted house of
the Gordons of Earlstoun.

"O, the Bull's brother!" said he, shortly, and turned him about to go
away. But Spitfire Wat was at his side, and, taking the dark man by the
elbow, presently halted him and span him round so that he faced us.

"And who are you that speaks so lightly of my cousin of Earlstoun?" he
asked.

I think Wat had forgotten that he was not now among his Cavalier
blades--who, to do them justice, are ready to put every pot-house
quarrel to the arbitrament of the sword, which is after all a better way
than disputation and the strife of tongues.

The dark man smiled. "Ye are hot, young sir," he said bitterly. "These
manners better befit the guard-room of Rob Grier