tone. Ye're ane o' thae mealy-mou'd
frien's that like a man sae wel they wad raither hae him gang wi' his
back to the pleuch, nor ca't i' the face o' a cauld win'. I wad raither
see my frein' hangt nor see him deserve hangin'. Haud awa' wi' ye. Gin
he disna gang, I'll gang mysel', an' I never was in a boat i' my life."

"Come awa, Thomas," cried Alec, already across three or four ridges; "I
canna carry her my lane."

Thomas followed as fast as he could, but before he reached the barn, he
met Alec and one of the farm-servants, with the boat on their
shoulders.

It was a short way to the water. They had her afloat in a few minutes,
below the footbridge. At the edge the water was as still as a pond.

Alec seized the oars, and the men shoved him off.

"Pray, Alec," shouted Thomas.

"I haena time. Pray yersel'," shouted Alec in reply, and gave a stroke
that shot him far towards the current. Before he reached it, he shifted
his seat, and sat facing the bows. There was little need for pulling,
nor was there much fear of being overtaken by any floating mass, while
there was great necessity for looking out ahead. The moment Thomas saw
the boat laid hold of by the current, he turned his back to the
Glamour, fell upon his knees in the grass, and cried in an agony:

"Lord, let not the curse o' the widow and the childless be upo' me,
Thomas Crann."

Thereafter he was silent.

Johnstone and the farm-lad ran down the river-side. Truffey had started
for the bridge again, having tied up his crutch with a string. Thomas
remained kneeling, with his arms stretched out as stiff as the poles of
a scaffold, and the joints of his clasped fingers buried in the roots
of the grass. The stone piers of the wooden bridge fell into the water
with a rush, but he never heard it. The bridge floated past him bodily,
but his back was towards it. Like a wretch in sanctuary, he dared not
leave "the footstool of grace," or expose himself to the inroads of the
visible world around him, by opening his eyes.

Alec did not find it so hard as he had expected to keep his boat from
capsizing. But the rapidity with which the banks swept past him was
frightful. The cottage lay on the other side of the Glamour, lower
down, and all that he had to do for a while, was to keep the bows of
his boat down the stream. When he approached the cottage, he drew a
little out of the centre of the current, which, confined within rising
ground, was here fiercer than anywh