ng, danced
an Indian war-dance. Captain Rudstone and Christopher Burley, who were
rarely anything but quiet and reserved, showed us sides of their
characters that we had not suspected before; they clapped their hands
and joined in the laughter and merriment. And in Flora's unfeigned
happiness and light spirits I took my greatest enjoyment.

"Comrade, it's your turn," said Forbes, addressing old Malcolm Cameron.
"Maybe you'll be giving us your imitation of the skirl of the bagpipes."

"Man, it's too dry work," Cameron replied. "If I had a wee drop of
liquor--But it's no use asking for that."

"By the way, Carew," said Captain Rudstone, "as I was overhauling that
heap of rubbish in the cellar this morning, I pulled out a small cask.
Could it contain anything drinkable?"

I was on my feet like a shot.

"Come; we'll see!" I cried. "Lead the way!"

I followed the captain to the cellar and we found the cask. I quickly
broached it, and to my delight it, contained what I had scarcely
ventured to hope for--a fine old port wine.

"Where did it come from?" asked the captain, smacking his lips.

"My father used to have it sent to him from England," I replied, "and
this cask must have been mislaid and covered up."

"Your father?" muttered the captain: and he gave me one of those strange
looks that had so mystified me in the past.

"Yes, he was a judge of wine, I believe," I answered. "Come, we'll go
up. Cameron can wet his whistle now, and we'll all be the better for a
little sound port."

When we returned to our companions with the cask, and told them what it
held, they gave us an eager and noisy welcome. We rummaged about until
we found a sufficient number of cracked glasses and cups, and then we
filled them with the fragrant, ruddy beverage.

"Miss Hatherton shall drink first," said I, as I sat down beside her and
handed her a glass.

My own I held up with a little nod, and she partly understood me. Such a
roguish look twinkled in her eyes that I carried out my purpose.

"Attention!" I cried, standing up. "A toast, comrades! to my promised
wife!"

With an earnestness that I liked, the men drank, one and all, and Flora
smiled very prettily through her confusion and blushes.

"Ah, she's a bonnie lady," old Malcolm Cameron said bluntly.

"And with the spirit of a man," added Luke Hutter.

I acknowledged these compliments with a bow as I sat down. Most of the
drinking vessels were emptied and passed to Carteret