But at the moment he heard Alec whistling a favourite tune, as he
shovelled away at the snow.

"General!" cried Linkum, in ecstasy.

"Here!" answered Alec, flinging his spade twenty feet from him, and
bolting in the direction of the call. "Is't you, Linkum?"

"She's oot, General."

"Deil hae her, gin ever she wins in again, the curst worryin' brute!
Did ye gang to Curly?"

"Ay did I. He fired the gun, and brunt three blue lichts, and waited
seven minutes and a half; and syne he sent me for ye, General."

"_Con_foon' 't," cried Alec, and tore through shrubbery and hedge, the
nearest way to the road, followed by Linkum, who even at full speed was
not a match for Alec. Away they flew like the wind, along the
well-beaten path to the town, over the footbridge that crossed the
Glamour, and full speed up the hill to Willie Macwha, who, with a dozen
or fifteen more, was anxiously waiting for the commander. They all had
their book-bags, pockets, and arms filled with stones lately broken for
mending the turnpike road, mostly granite, but partly whinstone and
flint. One bag was ready filled for Alec.

"Noo," said the General, in the tone of Gideon of old, "gin ony o' ye
be fleyt at the brute, jist gang hame."

"Ay! ay! General."

But nobody stirred, for those who were afraid had slunk away the moment
they saw Alec coming up the hill, like the avenger of blood.

"Wha's watchin' her?"

"Doddles, Gapy, and Goat."

"Whaur was she last seen?"

"Takin' up wi' anither tyke on the squaure."

"Doddles 'll be at the pump, to tell whaur's the ither twa and the
tyke."

"Come along, then. This is hoo ye're to gang. We maunna a' gang
thegither. Some o' ye--you three--doon the Back Wynd; you sax, up Lucky
Hunter's Close; and the lave by Gowan Street; an' first at the pump
bides for the lave."

"Hoo are we to mak the attack, General?"

"I'll gie my orders as the case may demand," said Alec.

And away they shot.

The muffled sounds of the feet of the various companies as they
thundered past upon the snow, roused the old wives dozing over their
knitting by their fires of spent oak-bark; and according to her temper
would be the remark with which each startled dame turned again to her
former busy quiescence:--"Some mischeef o' the loons!" "Some ploy o'
the laddies!" "Some deevilry o' thae rascals frae Malison's school!"

They reached the square almost together, and found Doddles at the pump;
who reported that Juno had g