oil things more by staying than by going. I would be forever
seeing that hammer crushing down--" He covered his face with his hands
and shuddered.

"All right, Mack! I will stay," said Cameron. "But what about you?"

"Oh," said Black Duncan, "Mack and I will walk about and have a smoke
for a little."

"Thanks, boys, you are the stuff!" said Fatty fervently. "Once more you
have saved the day. Come then, Cameron! Get your pipes. Old Sutherland
is waiting for you."

But before he set off Mack called Cameron to him.

"You will see Isa," he said, "and tell her why I could not stay. And you
will take her home." His face was still pallid, his voice unsteady.

"I will take care of her, Mack, never fear. But could you not remain? It
might help you."

But Mack only shook his head. His fervent Highland soul had too recently
passed through the valley of death and its shadows were still upon him.

Four hours later Fatty looked in upon Mack at his own home. He found him
sitting in the moonlight in the open door of the big new barn, with his
new-made friend, Duncan Ross, at one door post and old Piper Sutherland
at the other, while up and down the floor in the shadow within Cameron
marched, droning the wild melody of the "Maccrimmon Lament." Mournful
and weird it sounded through the gloom, but upon the hearts of these
Highlanders it fell like a soothing balm. With a wave of his hand Mack
indicated a seat, which Fatty took without a word. Irrepressible though
he was, he had all the instincts of a true gentleman. He knew it was the
time for silence, and silent he stood till the Lament had run through
its "doubling" and its "trebling," ending with the simple stately
movement of its original theme. To Fatty it was a mere mad and
unmelodious noise, but, reading the faces of the three men before him in
the moonlight, he had sense enough to recognise his own limitations.

At length the Lament was finished and Cameron came forward into the
light.

"Ah! That iss good for the soul," said old piper Sutherland. "Do you
know what your pipes have been saying to me in yon Lament?

'Yea, though I walk through Death's dark vale,
Yet will I fear none ill;
For Thou art with me, and Thy rod
And staff me comfort still.'

And we have been in the valley thiss day."

Mack rose to his feet.

"I could not have said it myself, but, as true as death, that is the
word for me."

"Well," said Fa