th chariots, and with horsemen and
companies and muck people. He shall slay with the sword thy daughters
in the field_...."

"Fine words," I thought; "but Elspeth laid her whip over your
shoulders, my man."

"... _With the hoofs of his horses shall he tread down all thy streets.
He shall slay thy people by the sword, and thy strong garrisons shall
go down to the ground.... And I will cause the music of thy songs to
cease, and the sound of thy harps shall no more be heard."_

I had a vision of Elspeth's birthday party when we sat round the
Governor's table, and I had wondered dismally how long it would be
before our pleasant songs would be turned to mourning.

The fires died down, the smoke thinned, and the full moon rising over
the crest of the hills poured her light on us. The torches flickered
insolently in that calm radiance. The voice, too, grew lower and the
incantation ceased. Then it began again in the Indian tongue, and the
whole host rose to their feet. Muckle John, like some old priest of
Diana, flung up his arms to the heavens, and seemed to be invoking his
strange gods. Or he may have been blessing his flock--I know not which.
Then he turned and strode back to his tent, just as he had done on that
night in the Cauldstaneslap....

A hand was laid on my arm and Onotawah stood by me. He motioned me to
follow him, and led me past the smoking altar to a row of painted white
stones around the great wigwam. This he did not cross, but pointed to
the tent door, I pushed aside the flap and entered.

An Indian lamp--a wick floating in oil--stood on a rough table. But its
thin light was unneeded, for the great flood of moonshine, coming
through the slits of the skins, made a clear yellow twilight. By it I
marked the figure of Muckle John on his knees.

"Good evening to you, Mr. Gib," I said.

The figure sprang to its feet and strode over to me.

"Who are ye," it cried, "who speaks a name that is no more spoken on
earth?"

"Just a countryman of yours, who has forgathered with you before. Have
you no mind of the Cauldstaneslap and the Canongate Tolbooth?"

He snatched up the lamp and peered into my face, but he was long past
recollection.

"I know ye not. But if ye be indeed one from that idolatrous country of
Scotland, the Lord hath sent you to witness the triumph of His servant,
Know that I am no longer the man John Gib, but the chosen of the Lord,
to whom He hath given a new name, even Jerubbaal, saying