ain,' said he, 'and Dan McBride
has killed Dol Rob Beag.'

"'Run, Ronny, run,' cried Mirren, and pulled me to the stable. 'Dan
will be needing all his friends before the morning,' and she had the
bridle on the garron, and I was on his back like a flash, and making
for the Quay Inn before she was done speaking."

[1] Coosp=chilblain on the heel.

CHAPTER X.

DOL BEAG IS FLUNG INTO A FIRE.

And now you will be coming to meet Dan and me on the long road back
from the South End, and coming on with us like a good comrade, for Dan
that day walked like a man that was fey, and I, who would be thinking I
kent him, might just as weel have been walking with a stranger. Below
the shoulder o' the big black hill, before ye come to the Laird's Turn,
he halted.

"Man, Hamish, the hills are just vexed wi' me this day," said he, "and
I ken a' their moods, as weel as a bairn kens his mother."

"To me," said I, and I would be searching about in my mind for the
right words, like a pedant, for was I not college-bred--"to me," said
I, "they aye look just grandly contemptuous," and, mind you, my heart
went out to the great strong man at my side because of the soft place
in his warm heart for the grim old hills, for I would aye be feared to
talk that way to him, for fear of his laughing.

"I ken what ye mean by grandly contemptuous too," said he. "I have
felt that way when I would be gathering sheep, and looking up at the
crags and the rocks above me, and the head o' the hill would be turned
from me in disdain, and I would be feeling like the wee red ant
crawling on the beard o' a warrior, asleep on a glorious battlefield.
I canna just be putting the right words to it, but, man, I feel it
inside o' me.

"There's days in the early summer mornings before the heat-haze has
lifted when a man can see the hills lying on their backs wi' their
faces to the sun, like giants resting, and he can see the smile on the
brow o' them when the sun beats down, and it's fine to be imagining
that they're laughing to one another; and on these days the hills are
aye friendly to a man, and when he lies down among the heather the
spirit o' the hills will be knowing him, and his forebears, since the
hills were established; but ah! they will be glooming at me the day.

"There's a frown on the brow o' the Urie, and his face is hidden from
me, and listen to the grumbling and flyting o' the burn. They're a'
vexed, Hamish, but we're to have company