ould be
doing with the cattle o' his mother's brother--yon was sailin' near the
win'.

"I was seein' beasts like yon, speckled and spotted and runnin' wild"
(he would be thinking of Laban's herd), "in an island in the Indies,"
said Ronald's son after a while.

"A herd?"

"A herd--ay, kye in legions. We made a slaughter o' them and
smoke-cured the flesh for the harnish casks--the Frenchmen are the
clever ones at that work--'boucan,' they would be saying; and, man, it
aye minded me o' a bochan wi' the smoke and that"; and I was thinking
while Angus McKinnon was speaking of the wee black huts that our folk
will be calling bochans to this day, and wondering if the French had
put that name on them, for smoky they are indeed.

"It was _that_ I was coming to," said the sailor; "it would be there I
fell in with your kinsman."

"Ay," said I, sitting up and thinking of Mhari nic Cloidh; "is it Bryde
McBride you are meaning?"

"Just that," said he, looking far to sea; "a devil o' a man yon, with
eyes that would drill a hole in an oak timber. He came there in a
privateer--Captain Cook, I think, was master of her, Bryde McBride
mate--lieutenant, the crew would be saying, for the schooner carried
letters o' marque--a fast ship and well found; the _Spray_ was the name
of her."

"And Bryde McBride--had you speech with him?"

"I had that--ay, we yarned for long and long, him in his fine clothes
an' all, and very pressing with the rum. He would be speaking about
you, and telling me if I was seeing you ever to be saying he would be
doing finely, and very full of notions about growing fine crops when he
would be back again. It was droll to be listening to him yarning about
his crops, and me with all the stories I would be hearing from the crew
of his schooner."

"Ay, man; but what like is the boy?"

"The boy," says he, and laughed. "Lord, he is a boy, ye may weel say
it, quiet and smiling, and fond of throwing back the head of him and
laughing. He will aye be doing that; but there is no man will run foul
o' him, drunk or sober, in these seas, and there are bold sailor-men in
the Indies, ay, bold stark men. He carries a long lean sword wi' a
bonny grip--the maiden, he will be calling her,--she will have kissed
many, they were saying. . . ."

"And is he coming home?"

"He would be settling that," said the sailor; "but there were stories
o' bonny bright eyes in Jamaica and the towns there-away--ay there is
dancing and