! _Your_ company! . . . Aweel, come on an' see
me dae it.'

In the dusk Macgregor peered at his watch. It told him that the
thing could not be done, not if he ran both ways. 'I canna manage
it, Wullie,' he said, with honest regret.

'Then it's off,' the contrary William declared.

'What's off?'

'I've changed ma mind. I'm no for the sojerin'.'

At this Macgregor bristled, so to speak. He could stand being
'codded,' but already the Army was sacred to him.

'See here, Wullie, will ye gang an' enlist noo or tak' a hammerin'?'

'Wha'll gi'e me the hammerin'?'

'Come an' see,' was the curt reply. Macgregor turned back into the
close and led the way to a small yard comprising some sooty earth,
several blades of grass and a couple of poles for the support of
clothes lines. A little light came from windows above. Here he
removed his jacket, hung it carefully on a pole; and began to roll
up his sleeves.

'It's ower dark here,' Willie complained. 'I canna see.'

'Ye can feel. Tak' aff yer coat.' Willie knew that despite his
inches he was a poor match for the other, yet he was a stubborn
chap. 'What business is it o' yours whether I enlist or no?' he
scowled.

'Will ye enlist?'

'I'll see ye damp first!'

'Come on, then!' Macgregor spat lightly On his palms. 'I've nae
time to waste.'

Willie cast his jacket on the ground. 'I'll wrastle ye,' he said,
with a gleam of hope.

'Thenk ye; but I'm no for dirtyin' ma guid claes. Come on!'

To Willie's credit, let it be recorded, he did come on, and so
promptly that Macgregor, scarcely prepared, had to take a light tap
on the chin. A brief display of thoroughly unscientific boxing
ensued, and then Macgregor got home between the eyes. Willie,
tripping over his own jacket, dropped to earth.

'I wasna ready that time,' he grumbled, sitting up.

Macgregor seized his hand and dragged him to his feet, with the
encouraging remark, 'Ye'll be readier next time.'

In the course of the second round Willie achieved a smart clip on
his opponent's ear, but next moment he received, as it seemed, an
express train on the point of his nose, and straightway sat down in
agony.

'Is't bled, Wullie?' Macgregor presently inquired with compunction
as well as satisfaction.

'It's near broke, ye----!' groaned the sufferer, adding, 'I kent
fine ye wud bate me.'

'What for did ye fecht then?'

'Nane o' your business.'

'Weel, get up. Yer breeks'll get soakit sitti