dour, crooked, and coarse as the Cameronian's road
to heaven, I'll gang that road this night!' said Lag, who was pleased
with the death of the six Whigs at the Caldons--though, as it might be,
vexed that he had not been at the shooting himself.

"We were no more than clear of the loch-side path, when Douglas bade old
Sandy tune his pipes to help the men along the easier road with a song.

"'A Whig's sang or a King's-man's sang?' asked the auld tod blythely.

"'Hoot, a Cavalier's song--what need hae we to tak' the Book here!'
cried Douglas loudly.

"'More need than inclination!' said Claverhouse scornfully, who was now
riding beside them.

"Sandy Gillespie, who was an exceedingly far-seeing old worthy,
pretended that he was loth to sing, whereat Douglas ordered him with an
oath to sing upon peril of his life.

"So the old man struck up in a high piping voice, but none so ill in
tune:

'Our thistles flourished fresh and fair,
And bonny bloomed our roses,
But Whigs cam' like a frost in June,
And withered a' oor posies.'

"As he went on the old man's voice grew louder, and in a little, half
the command was cantily shouting the song, which indeed goes very well
to march to.

"'And there's Bongill,' cried Sandy, suddenly stopping and dropping off
his horse, 'an' guid e'en to ye!'

"And with that the old fellow slid off among the brush-wood and copse,
and we saw no more of him--which perhaps was as well for him.

"When we went into the little house of Bongill, we found an open door
both back and front. Peats were blazing on the hearth. Great dishes of
porridge sat on a table. Chairs and stools were overturned, and Bibles
and Testaments lay everywhere.

"'Curse the old dog. He has sung them a' to the hill,' cried Douglas.
'Have him out and shoot him.'

"But Sandy was not to be seen. Only from the hillside, a voice--the same
that had sung, 'Awa, Whigs, awa,' gave us 'Bonny Davie Leslie'; and then
cried in mockery three times 'Good-night!'

"So the night being pit mirk and the hill unknown, we took up our abode
at Bongill till the morning. Sitting in the hole of the peat stack we
found a strange object, a crazy natural, shapeless and ill-looking.

"But some of the men who had seen his mother, knew him for the idiot son
of Corp-licht Kate, the Informer, of the Shiel of the Star. Douglas
questioned him, for sometimes these naturals have much shrewd wit.

"'How came ye to be here?'

"'Weel