own as November oak-leaves, and he white that
day as the froth on the rapid.

"That put us farther from Godfrey than before. And farther yet we were
from him after, when he and my father would be walking up and down, up
and down, arm in arm, up and down the lawn in the evenings. They would
be talking about books, and the great McNeils in Scotland. The six of
us knew we were McNeils, for all we were Indians, and we would listen
to the talk of the great pride and the great deeds of the McNeils
that was our own kin. We would be drinking the whiskey if we had it,
and saying: 'Godfrey to be the only McNeil! Godfrey to take all the
pride of the name of us!' Oh, man, man! but we hated Godfrey sore."

Big Angus paused long, and I seemed to see clearly the two
fair-haired, tall men walking arm in arm on the lawn in the twilight,
as if unconscious or careless of being watched and overheard by six
sore-hearted kinsmen.

"You'll mind when my father was thrown from his horse and carried into
this room, Aleck McTavish? Ay, well you do. But you nor no other
living man but me knows what came about the night that he died.

"Godfrey was alone with him. The six of us were in yon room. Drink we
had, but cautious we were with it, for there was a deed to be done
that would need all our senses. We sat in a row on the floor--we were
Indians--it was our wigwam--we sat on the floor to be against the
ways of them two. Godfrey was in here across the hall from us; alone
he was with our white father. He would be chief over us by the will,
no doubt,--and if Godfrey lived through that night it would be
strange.

"We were cautious with the whiskey, I told you before. Not a sound
could we hear of Godfrey or of my father. Only the rapid, calling and
calling,--I mind it well that night. Ay, and well I mind the striking
of the great clock,--tick, tick, tick, tick, tick,--I listened and I
dreamed on it till I doubted but it was the beating of my father's
heart.

"Ten o'clock was gone by, and eleven was near. How many of us sat
sleeping I know not; but I woke up with a start, and there was Great
Godfrey, with a candle in his hand, looking down strange at us, and us
looking up strange at him.

"'He is dead,' Godfrey said.

"We said nothing.

"'Father died two hours ago,' Godfrey said.

"We said nothing.

"'Our father is white,--he is very white,' Godfrey said, and he
trembled. 'Our mother was brown when she was dead.'

"Godfrey's voice was wi