e, even that of our first father Adam--'The woman thou gavest
me she called my horse Gay Garland.'"

I suppose that to-day Ken flashes as clear and the heather blooms as
bonny on the Bennan side. But not for me, for I have laid away so many
that I loved in the howe of the Glen since then, and seen so many places
of this Scotland red with a crimson the bell heather never made. Ay me
for the times that were, and for all that is come and gone, whereof it
shall be mine to tell!

But we came at long and last to the Duchrae, which is a sweet bit house,
sitting on a south-looking brae-face, though not a laird's castle like
the tower of Earlstoun. Maisie Lennox met us at the loaning foot,
whereat I begged that my father would put me down so that I might run
barefoot with her. And I think my father was in nowise unwilling, for a
twelve-year-old callant on the saddle before one is no comfort, though
Gay Garland bore me like a feather.

So Maisie Lennox and I fell eagerly a-talking together after our first
shy chill of silence, having many things to say. But as soon as ever we
reached the Craigs we fell to our fantasy. It was an old game with us,
like the sand houses we used to build in bairns' play. We drew lots,
long stalk and short stalk, which of us should be the Wanderer. Maisie
Lennox won the lot--as she always did, for I had no good fortune at the
drawing of cuts. So she went to hide in some bosky bouroch or moss-hag,
while I bode still among the hazels at the woodside, accoutring myself
as a trooper with sword and pistol of tree.

Then I rode forth crying loud commands and sending my soldiers to seek
out all the hidie-holes by the water-sides, and under all the tussocks
of heather on the benty brows of the black mosses.

Soon Maisie Lennox began to cry after the manner of the hunted
hill-folk--peeping like the nestlings of the muir-birds, craiking like
the bird of the corn, laughing like the jack-snipe--and all with so
clear a note and such brisk assurance that I declare she had imposed
upon Tom Dalyell himself.

After seeking long in vain, I spied the fugitive hiding behind a
peat-casting on the edge of the moss, and immediately cried on the men
to shoot. So those that were men-at-arms of my command pursued after and
cracked muskets, as the Wanderers jooked and fled before us. Yet
cumbered with cavalry as I was on the soft bog land, the light-foot
enemy easily escaped me.

Then when I saw well that catch her I cou