r the
night before.

"Never you fear, Farquhar," he replied; "Ranald is not one to fail us."

As Ranald stood watching the wagons rumbling down the road and out of
sight, he felt as if years must have passed since he had received the
letter that had laid on him the heavy burden of this sad news. That his
uncle, Macdonald Bhain, should have sent the word to him brought Ranald
a sense of responsibility that awakened the man in him, and he knew he
would feel himself a boy no more. And with that new feeling of manhood
stirring within him, he went about his work that day, omitting no detail
in arrangement for the seemly conduct of the funeral.

Night was falling as the wagons rumbled back again from Cornwall,
bringing back the shantymen and their dead companion. Up through the
Sixteenth, where a great company of people stood silent and with bared
heads, the sad procession moved, past the old church, up through the
swamp, and so onward to the home of the dead. None of the Macdonald gang
turned aside to their homes till they had given their comrade over
into the keeping of his own people. By the time the Cameron's gate was
reached the night had grown thick and black, and the drivers were glad
enough of the cedar bark torches that Ranald and Don waved in front of
the teams to light the way up the lane. In silence Donald Ross, who was
leading, drove up his team to the little garden gate and allowed the
great Macdonald and Dannie to alight.

At the gate stood Long John Cameron, silent and self-controlled, but
with face showing white and haggard in the light of the flaring torches.
Behind him, in the shadow, stood the minister. For a few moments they
all remained motionless and silent. The time was too great for words,
and these men knew when it was good to hold their peace. At length
Macdonald Bhain broke the silence, saying in his great deep voice, as he
bared his head: "Mr. Cameron, I have brought you back your son, and God
is my witness, I would his place were mine this night."

"Bring him in, Mr. Macdonald," replied the father, gravely and steadily.
"Bring him in. It is the Lord; let Him do what seemeth Him good."

Then six of the Macdonald men came forward from the darkness, Curly and
Yankee leading the way, and lifted the coffin from Farquhar's wagon, and
reverently, with heads uncovered, they followed the torches to the door.
There they stopped suddenly, for as they reached the threshold, there
arose a low, long, hea