so loyal in the North. It
were well for the land if this could be done. In the North a few dozen
Whigs would do small harm; here ten score King's men melled and married
would settle the land and keep the King's peace."

Then he looked at my cousin with a certain uncommon gracious affection
that sat well on him--all the more that he showed such a thing but
rarely.

"Well, Wat, for your sake let young Earlstoun go bury his father in
peace, an it likes him. The more Whigs buried the better pleased will
John Graham be. If he will only bury his brother also when he is about
it, he will rid the earth of a very pestilent fellow!"

"There is no great harm in Sandy," returned Lochinvar briskly and
easily. From his whole demeanour I saw that he was in good estimation
with Colonel Graham, and was accustomed to talk familiarly with him.

Perhaps the reason was that Claverhouse found himself much alone in
Galloway. When he ordered a muster of the lairds and the well affected,
only Grier of Lag and Fergusson of Craigdarroch came in, and even they
brought but few at their back. Then again these rough-riding, hard
drinkers of Nithside had little in common with John Graham. But
Lochinvar was well trained by his mother, and had been some time about
the court. It was, doubtless, a relief to the high-bred soldier to speak
to him after the foul oaths and scurril jests of the country cavaliers.

"Why," said Claverhouse, "as you say, there is no great harm in Sandy;
but yet Sandy hath a stout arm and can lay well about him when it comes
to the dunts. Sandy's arm is stronger than Sandy's wit."

All this time I had not spoken, for so with a look my cousin Lochinvar
had warned me to let him speak for me; but now I broke the silence.

"I am obliged to you, Colonel Graham," I said, "for your permission to
go and bury my dead."

"Ay," said Claverhouse, with a certain courteous disdain that was
natural to him, but which he dropped when he spoke to the young
Lochinvar, "ay, you are no doubt greatly obliged to me; but your father,
though a rebel, fought us fairly and deserves clean burial. A Whig is
aye best buried at any rate," he continued, gathering up his reins as
one that prepares to ride away.

"Lochinvar," he cried, in his voice of command, "take Cornet Inglis's
post and duty, since you have disabled him. But mark me well, let there
be no more tullying and brawling, or I shall send you all to bridewell.
Hark you, young Wullcat of Loc