aid a long blue blade across the bed, and
the little groping fingers of the child fluttered a moment, and then
closed on the hilt, and when I lifted the gleaming snake-like sword,
from the hilt scroll with a tinkling fell a ring, and it fell on the
bosom of the mother--and she lay and smiled.

* * * * * *

But I made a safe place for that sword and scabbard (for the messenger
gave that last into my hands), and for many nights in my dreams the
little dimpled hand fluttered and closed on the hilt.

CHAPTER XVI.

I HAVE SOME TALK WITH McGILP IN McKINNON'S KITCHEN.

In the gloaming I left the sheiling, and took my way through the hill,
as we say, for McKinnon's house by the glen on the road to Birrican,
and the first of that road is just plain guessing, but after, maybe, a
mile there rises up the Mulloch Mhor, the big peak of the Island, and
with that, a little to a man's left hand, the road to the sea is easy.
There is a road crossing that way that you'll still see running in
through the Planting above the Letter, and through by the Little
Clearing, and joining the road to the castle.

To the left of me I could hear the kye at the Bothanairidh, where there
was a common grazing, for by this time it was well to have the beasts
away from the steadings, because there was no great fencing in these
days, and the weans would be put to the herding, out on the hillside.
You'll see yet the wee turf byres where the kye were milked, and the
founds of the bochans where the old folk had their summer, with the
hens and beasts about them. And many's the story I could be telling
about these summer quarters when the lassies and old wives would be at
the spinning.

All the glen on the right of me was a McBride place, but you will not
get that name there any more now, and nothing belonging to them but the
trees, old and straggling, that they would be planting long ago, and
the furs on the side of the hill where they had rigs about, and
lazy-beds.

There were not many houses on the shore in these days, except maybe at
a place they would be calling Clamperton, not very far from McKelvie's
Inn.

Ronny was the pleased man to welcome me to his house, and Mirren, his
wife, was at her best to be showing what a thrifty goodwife she was
making, and she was very kind, and spoke good words to me; so, thinks
I, Ronny will have been telling her about the talk we had yon day on
the Isle.

"They will be sa