."

"I put the oar astern," said Gilian, never hearing the comment, but
carried away by his illusion; "and the wind carried us up the way of
Ealan Dubh. Sometimes the big waves would try to pull the oar from my
hands, wanting fair play between their brothers and the ship. ('Havers!'
muttered the Cornal.) And the spindrift struck me in the eyes like hands
full of sand. I thought I would never get to the vessel. I thought
she would be upset every moment, and I could not keep from thinking of
myself hanging on to the keel and my fingers slipping in weariness."

"A little less thinking and more speed with your boat would be welcome,"
said the Cornal impatiently. "I'm sick sorry for them, waiting there on
a wreck with so slow a rescue coming to them."

Gilian hesitated, with his illusion shattered, and, all unnerved, broke
for the second time into tears.

"Look at that!" cried Miss Mary pitifully, herself weeping; "you are
frightening the poor laddie out of his wits," and she soothed Gilian
with numerous Gaelic endearments.

"Tuts! never mind me," said the Cornal, rising and coming forward to
clap the boy on the head for the very first time. "I think we can guess
the rest of the story. Can we not guess the rest of the story, Dugald?"

The General sat bewildered, the only one out of the secret, into which
Miss Mary's whisper to the Cornal has not brought him.

"I am not good at guessing," said he; "a man at my time likes everything
straight forward." And there was a little irritation in his tone.

"It's only this, Dugald," said his brother, "that here's a pluckier
young fellow than we thought, and good prospects yet for a soger in the
family. I never gave Jock credit for discretion, but, faith, he seems to
have gone with a keen eye to the market for once in his life! If it was
not for Gilian here, Turner was wanting a daughter this day; we could
hardly have hit on a finer revenge."

"Revenge!" said the General, a flash jumping to his eyes, then dying
away. "I would not have said that, Colin; I would not have said that. It
is the phrase of a rough, quarrelsome young soldier, and we are elders
who should be long by with it."

"Anyhow," said the Cornal, "here's the makings of a hero." And he beamed
almost with affection on Gilian, now in a stupor at the complexity his
day's doings had brought him to.

The Paymaster's rattan sounded on the stair, and "Here's John," said his
sister. "He'll be very pleased, I'm sure."