f noisy demonstration marked the spot
where the fortunate nominee was receiving the congratulations of his
friends; sometimes a cheer was given when a favorite or familiar name
was announced.

"How many names have been drawn?" asked the King.

"Forty-nine," answered the Lord Keeper. Amid profound silence the last
name was drawn and announced:

"Rodney Bruce!"

It was the Captain's brother, a young and promising sailor, who had won
much praise for daring adventures with water pixies on "the stream that
joins Loch Katrine and Achray." His name was welcomed with cheers, and
then a buzz of disappointment arose from the crowd who heartily envied
the "Fortunate Fifty." However, the disappointment soon passed away,
for Brownies are a cheerful and contented folk. The hum of voices
ceased, and the people waited to know what might be needed to forward
the comfort and success of the emigrant escort.

"How shall we get off?" said Captain Bruce. "Has your Majesty any orders
or counsel? Has the Assembly any advice?"

That was a puzzling question. The Lord Keeper, Lord Herald, and all the
other lords and nobles shook their heads wisely and said nothing. Some
one called out the name of "Rodney, the sailor," whereat the old Lord
Admiral turned up his little red nose, looked contemptuously at the
speaker, and muttered something about "land lubbers." As no one had any
advice to venture, all waited for their sovereign's opinion.

"Hoot!" said the King at last, "Ye shall juist gae your ain gait.
Howiver, ye maun steal awa' unbeknowns, I'se warrant ye; for Parson
Wille, good heart! will never allow ye to risk anything for him. But
how? Well, I dinna ken; ye maun e'en settle that, amang yoursels."

The difficulty was no nearer solution than before. There was another
long pause. It was broken by a voice that called from the outer edge of
the Assembly.

"I can tell you how!" It was Walter MacWhirlie who spoke, one of the
chosen escort.

"Come to the front, then," said the King, "and say your say."

Every eye was at once fixed on the bold speaker. But MacWhirlie, nothing
abashed, leaped from the heather stalk on which he stood, and making a
double somersault above the whole company, landed erect upon the edge of
a leaf whereon sat the King and lords.

[Illustration: FIG. 11.--Brownie MacWhirlie Comes to the Front by a
Double Somersault.]

"Ugh!" said the monarch, starting back; for MacWhirlie had well nigh
alighted on his toes.