fragrant
odour, and the four night-voyagers looked at each other, wondering at
the wild eyes and haggard faces which they saw.

One corner of the cavern had been roughly screened off with sacking, and
within was a comfortable couch of broom and heather twigs, upon which
Miss Aline was advised to lie down. But this she refused emphatically to
do.

"And me as near to my ain decent house at Ladykirk," she said, "what for
should I do such a thing?"

"Because," said the Poor Scholar, "I have much to tell you, much you
must hear, and you will not see Ladykirk this night. In fact you could
not, without betraying the secrets of those who have been depending upon
your aid."

"Say on, then," quoth Miss Aline; "the Mintos are no tale-pyets, and
that ye shall ken. Let us hear what ye hae to say, laddie! Ye will be
Nicholas Airie's gyte--I kenned her when she was dairy lass up at the
Folds and mony is the time I warned her--but there's nae use harkin'
back on the things noo, and when a' is said and dune ye carried me nane
so ill, though the deil flee awa' wi' you and your 'Seniores'!--I would
have you know that the day has been when I was as young--I am no sayin'
sae bonnie or sae flichertsome as Miss Patsy there--but still weel
eneuch and young eneuch. 'Seniores,' indeed, and you thinkin' I wad not
tak' your meaning! Faith, I hae wasted my time ower Ruddiman's
Ruddiments as well as the best o' them."

CHAPTER XXXII

ORDEAL BY FIRE

The Bothy on the Wild of Blairmore was an entrenched camp, for Stair was
too good a general not to see to the state of his defences, to his
victualling and armament from the beginning. So, though the moment of
the attack was a surprise, its manner had long been foreseen. As Stair
had repeatedly said, "The sea is never shut!"

Landing parties from the _Britomart_ and _Vandeleur_ had marched up the
Valleys, and the Preventive men of all the West of Galloway had quietly
gathered at Stranryan in order to co-operate with them.

It was Stair who stumbled upon a picket of the _Britomart_ men hidden
among the eastern sand-dunes. He was on his way to meet Joseph,
Whitefoot as usual at his heels, when suddenly the dog sprang forward,
eyes blazing, hackles stiff, his nose high in the air, and his teeth
bared, ready to bound. Stair restrained him and crept to the lip of a
little sandy cup where, from the midst of a clump of dry saw-edged
sea-grass, he could look down on a group of men busied abou