n or afterwards, for speech came only once in his
lifetime to Tammas, but Annie whispered, "Ma ain dear man."

When the doctor placed the precious bag beside Sir George in our
solitary first next morning, he laid a cheque beside it and was about to
leave.

"No, no," said the great man. "Mrs. Macfayden and I were on the gossip
last night, and I know the whole story about you and your friend.

"You have some right to call me a coward, but I'll never let you count
me a mean, miserly rascal," and the cheque with Drumsheugh's painful
writing fell in fifty pieces on the floor.

[Illustration: "I'M PROUD TO HAVE MET YOU"]

As the train began to move, a voice from the first called so that all
the station heard. "Give's another shake of your hand, MacLure; I'm
proud to have met you; you are an honor to our profession. Mind the
antiseptic dressings."

It was market day, but only Jamie Soutar and Hillocks had ventured down.

"Did ye hear yon, Hillocks? hoo dae ye feel? A'll no deny a'm lifted."

Halfway to the Junction Hillocks had recovered, and began to grasp the
situation.

"Tell's what he said. A' wud like to hae it exact for Drumsheugh."

"Thae's the eedentical words, an' they're true; there's no a man in
Drumtochty disna ken that, except ane."

"An' wha's thar, Jamie?"

"It's Weelum MacLure himsel. Man, a've often girned that he sud fecht
awa for us a', and maybe dee before he kent that he hed githered mair
luve than ony man in the Glen.

"'A'm prood tae hae met ye', says Sir George, an' him the greatest
doctor in the land. 'Yir an honor tae oor profession.'

"Hillocks, a' wudna hae missed it for twenty notes," said James Soutar,
cynic-in-ordinary to the parish of Drumtochty.

A FIGHT WITH DEATH.

III

A FIGHT WITH DEATH

When Drumsheugh's grieve was brought to the gates of death by fever,
caught, as was supposed, on an adventurous visit to Glasgow, the London
doctor at Lord Kilspindie's shooting lodge looked in on his way from the
moor, and declared it impossible for Saunders to live through the night.

"I give him six hours, more or less; it is only a question of time,"
said the oracle, buttoning his gloves and getting into the brake;
"tell your parish doctor that I was sorry not to have met him."

Bell heard this verdict from behind the door, and gave way utterly,
but Drumsheugh declined to accept it as final, and devoted himself to
consolation.

"Dinna greet l