I
hope I shall not bring disgrace upon the Scots Brigade. But let us
change the subject. We be a barbarous people in the North, but after
all a gentleman does not love to talk about his own doings, still less
of his own glory. To bed, my comrades, we may have heavy work
to-morrow."

The Prince gave his troops a day's rest, and left the artillery to do
their work, and Claverhouse was reading for the sixth time some
letters of his mother's, when Grimond came in with the air of a man
full of news, but determined not to tell them until he was questioned,
and even then to give what he had grudgingly and by way of favor.

"What news, did ye say, Mr. John? Weel, if ye mean from Scotland, ye
have the last yersel' in the letters of your honorable mither. What I
am hearing from some Scot that cam oot o' the west country is that if
the council does na maister the Covenanters, the dear carles will
maister them, and then Scotland will be a gey ill place to live in. It
will be a fine sicht when you and me, Claverhouse, has to sign the
Solemn League and Covenant, and hear Sandy Peden, that they call a
prophet, preachin' three hours on the sins o' prelacy and dancin'. My
certes!" And at the thought thereof Grimond lost the power of speech.

"Never mind Scotland, Jock, just now; the auld country will take care
of herself till we go home, and then we'll give such assistance as in
the power of a good sword. Who knows, man, but we'll be riding through
the muirs of Ayrshire after something bigger than muir-fowl before
many years are over? But the camp, man, what's going on here this
morning, and what are the folk talking about, for, as ye know, I've
been on the broad of my back after yesterday's work?"

"If ye mean by news, laird, what wasna expected, and that, I'm
judging, is a correct definition o' news, there's naethin' worth
mentionin'. A dozen more Scots have come to get their livin' or their
death, as Providence wills, in a foreign army, instead of working
their bit o' land on a brae-side in bonnie Scotland. But that's no
news, for it has been goin' on for centuries, and I'm expectin' will
last as long as thae foreign bodies need buirdly men and Scotland has
a cold climate.

"They are saying, I may mention, that Chamilly is getting sick o'
these mortars, and didna particularly like the attack yesterday, and
the story is going about that he will soon ask for terms, and that if
he gets the honors of war the Prince may have the to