to take away our home from us!"

"It's not just the same, little woman," said the Shepherd, laying
his big brown hand on Jean's small one on his knee. "But the loss
of it hurts just the same. Rob Roy loved Craig Royston no better
than we love this wee bit hoosie."

"But why must you go, then?" asked Alan, his eyes shining with
interest and sympathy.

"You see; lad," answered the Shepherd, "it's like the tale of the
dog in the manger. The Auld Laird will neither use the land nor
let us." He explained about the lease, and when he had finished,
Alan said, "But what will you do when you leave this place?"

"I'm spiering the same question myself," answered the Shepherd.
"As yet I dinna ken."

"I tell you what," shouted Jock, springing to his feet and
knocking over his stool. "Why don't we live in the caves the way
Rob Roy did? If the Crumpets and all the people who have to give
up their homes should band together in a clan and hide themselves
in the glen, the Auld Laird could send all the Mr. Craigies and
Angus Niels in the world after us and they'd never get us!"

The Shepherd smiled and shook his head. "The time for that has
gone by," he said sadly. "Na, na, we must just submit. But one
thing I do know, and that is, we'll not seek a place with the
Laird of Kinross. They say he will let his land to none but
members of the Established Church, and I'll not give up my
religion for any man not if I'm forever walking the world!"

"But come, now," he went on, seeing them downcast, "you all have
faces on you as long as a summer Sabbath. Cheer up, and I'll tell
you a tale my grandfather told me of the water cow of Loch Leven.
You mind the song says, 'The Campbells are coming from bonnie
Loch Leven.' Well, it was around that loch that the Campbells
pastured their cattle. One day when my grandsire was a young lad
he was playing with some other children on the pastures near the
shore, when all of a sudden what should they see among their own
cows but a fine young dun-colored heifer without any horns. She
was lying by herself on the green grass, chewing her cud and
looking so gentle and pretty that the children played around her
without fear. They wound a wreath of daisies and put it on her
neck, and then they got on her back. The cow stretched out longer
and longer to make room for them until they were all on her back
except my grandsire. Then all of a sudden the dun cow rose up,
first on her hind legs, tipping the children