man, his fine-drawn temperament
strung to the highest pitch of nervousness, was tossed on a sea of
apprehension. His hopes and fears ebbed and flowed on the tide of the
moment. His moods were as uncertain as the winds in March; and there was
no dependence on his humor for a unit of time. At one minute he paced up
and down the kitchen, his face already flushed with the glow of victory,
chanting:

"Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled!"

At the next he was down at the table, his head buried in his hands, his
whole figure shaking, as he cried in choking voice: "Eh, Wullie, Wullie,
they're all agin us."

David found that life with his father now was life with an unamiable
hornet. Careless as he affected to be of his father's vagaries, he was
tried almost to madness, and fled away at every moment to Kenmuir; for,
as he told Maggie, "I'd sooner put up wi' your h'airs and h'imperences,
miss, than wi' him, the wemon that he be!"

* * * * *

At length the great day came. Fears, hopes, doubts, dismays, all
dispersed in the presence of the reality.

Cup Day is always a general holiday in the Daleland, and every soul
crowds over to Silverdale. Shops were shut; special trains ran in
to Grammoch-town; and the road from the little town was dazed with
char-a-bancs, brakes, wagonettes, carriages, carts, foot-passengers,
wending toward the Dalesman's Daughter.

And soon the paddock below that little inn was humming with the crowd
of sportsmen and spectators come to see the battle for the Shepherd's
Trophy.

There, very noticeable with its red body and yellow wheels, was the
great Kenmuir wagon. Many an eye was directed on the handsome young pair
who stood in it, conspicuous and unconscious, above the crowd: Maggie,
looking in her simple print frock as sweet and fresh as any mountain
flower; while David's fair face was all gloomy and his brows knit.

In front of the wagon was a black cluster of Dalesmen, discussing
M'Adam's chances. In the centre was Tammas holding forth. Had you passed
close to the group you might have heard: "A man, d'yo say, Mr. Maddox? A
h'ape, I call him"; or: "A dog? more like an 'og, I tell yo'." Round the
old orator were Jonas, 'Enry, and oor Job, Jem Burton, Rob Saunderson,
Tupper, Jim Mason, Hoppin, and others; while on the outskirts stood
Sam'l Todd prophesying rain and M'Adam's victory. Close at hand Bessie
Bolstock, who was reputed to have designs on David, was giggling
s