crying down
the wind tempestuously, when his dogs are working sourly.

"Hark ye," he cried, "ill bairns that ye are, ye are all to dee, and
that quickly, unless ye answer me what I shall ask of you."

Then I saw something that I had never seen but among the sheep, and it
was a most pitiful and heart-wringing thing to see, though now in the
telling it seems no great matter. There is a time of the year when it is
fitting that the lambs should be separated from the ewes; and it ever
touches me nearly to see the flock of poor lammies when first the dogs
come near to them to begin the work, and wear them in the direction in
which they are to depart. All their little lives the lambs had run to
their mothers at the first hint of danger. Now they have no mothers to
flee to, and you can see them huddle and pack in a frightened solid
bunch, quivering with apprehension, all with their sweet little winsome
faces turned one way. Then as the dogs run nearer to start them, there
comes from them a little low broken-hearted bleating, as if terror were
driving the cry out of them against their wills. Thus it is with the
lambs on the hill, and so also it was with the bairns that clung
together in a cluster on the brae-face.

A party of soldiers was now drawn out before them, and the young things
were bid look into the black muzzles of the muskets. They were indeed
loaded only with powder, but the children were not to know that.

"Now," cried Westerha', "tell me who comes to your houses at night, and
who goes away early in the morning!"

The children crept closer to one another, but none of them answered.
Whereupon Westerha' indicated one with his finger--the lad who stood up
so straightly and held his head back.

"You, young Cock-of-the-heather, what might be your black Whig's name?"

"Juist the same as your honour's--James Johnstone!" replied the boy, in
no way abashed.

Methought there ran a titter of laughter among the soldiers, for
Westerha' was noways so well liked among the soldiers as Claverhouse or
even roaring Grier of Lag.

"And what is your father's name?" continued Westerha', bending just one
black look upon the lad.

"James Johnstone!" yet again replied the boy.

Back in the ranks some one laughed.

Westerhall flung an oath over his shoulder.

"Who was the man who laughed? I shall teach you to laugh at the
Johnstone in his own country!"

"It was Jeems Johnstone of Wanphray that laughed, your honour," replied