ther's skirt,
and his head against her knees.

* * * * * *

There was great company gathered at the Quay Inn when we entered,
although many of the ships had sailed, but there were sailors too, for
the bay was not handy for owners to come at, and the Quay Inn was a
favourite, so that it was no uncommon thing for ships to be wind-bound
for days, and even weeks, and there would be the great fights between
the men from the ships and the lads from the glens. But there was no
trouble when we entered at all, for with the snow and the hard frost
outside, the great fire was the cheery place to be sitting at, and
indeed there must needs be ill blood between men if they will not be
agreeing over the best of drink, and fine company to be drinking it
with.

But it was as if every one was well pleased and with no worries, for I
saw no men whispering, with heads close, but every one happy to
recklessness, and already there was the darker red flush on the faces
that told of drink taken, and then I saw that many of the men gathered,
had been to the cove at the Rhu Ban in their skiffs, and were met here
to celebrate the run in their ain way. A great shouting they made when
Dan stood among them, his eyes shining, for a ploy of this kind was
meat and drink to him, and they made room for us by the fire; while
McKelvie brought steaming glasses, and winked and nodded, and would be
looking wise as though we might ken something about his wares that he
would not be telling everybody, till indeed I could not keep back the
laughing to see the grave stern man so far gone with his own liquor.

And as we sat I would be watching a sailor with a knife at his hip, and
the lithe swing of the mountaineer in his carriage--a Skye man, I was
thinking; but he stood silent against the jamb of the fireplace, and
his eyes were dreamy and sad, and in myself I knew he was seeing his
own place, and him outward bound. When the night was wearing on it
came his turn to sing, and with his song I knew that my thinking was
right, for his song was a farewell to Skye. Now I know not the words,
but the air will haunt me whiles when the days are shortening, and the
pictures he painted will never be leaving my mind.

For I saw the dark sad hills of Coulin, and the sun blood-red on the
peaks, and the heavy dark night clouds tinged and burnished with gold,
and the sea was all silent, with the wee waves rippling on the shore.
And on the s