sed to do."

Her rich contralto rang down the misty aisles beneath the dripping firs.

"Fine!" Angus applauded. "That's a great old song." She nodded and swung
into the old, original refrain, her voice taking on the North Country
burr:

"O-ho! it's hame, lads, hame, an' it's hame we yet wull be--
Back thegither scatheless in the North Countree;
Hame wi' wives an' bairns an' sweethearts in our ain countree--
Whaur the ash, an' the oak, an' the bonnie hazel tree,
They be all a-growin' green in our ain countree."

"I like those old songs," Angus approved.

"So do I. Modern songs seem to me cheap things, written just to sell.
But the old ones--the real, old songs that were the songs of generations
before us--weren't really written at all. Somehow, when I sing them I
feel that I am almost touching the spirits of those who sang them many
years ago." She stopped abruptly. "And now you'll think I'm silly!"

"Not a bit. Spirits! Old Murdoch McGillivray--"

"Who was he?"

"A friend of my father's. He had the gift."

"The gift?"

"I mean the second sight."

"You believe in that?"

"Well, he foretold his own death."

"Not really?"

"It comes to the same thing. The last night he was at our house he was
playing the pipes, and suddenly he stopped and would play no more.
Before he left he told my father he had seen himself lying dead beside
running water. A week after that they found him dead beside the creek.
What would you think?"

"I don't know," Faith admitted. "It's a thin veil, and some may see
beyond." She shivered. "I wish you had the second sight yourself. Then
you might tell me what to do."

"About what?" he asked.

"Uncle Godfrey has made me an offer for my land, and I don't know
whether to accept it or not."

"Will he give you a fair price?"

"He offers the price paid for the land and the cost of the improvements
I have made."

It seemed to Angus that Godfrey French had some conscience left. But it
might be less conscience than fear that the girl would find out how he
had cheated her father. Restitution was practically forced on him if he
had the money to make good, and apparently, in spite of what Judge Riley
had said, he had.

"I would take his offer," Angus advised reluctantly, for it meant that
he would lose his neighbor.

"Why?"

"Why? Why, I've always told you you can't make a success of ranching."

"And I've never admitted it. I'm gaining experience. And land is g