ou are safe. I was afraid
you--you--" Her voice broke in sobs. Her hood had fallen back from her
white face, and her eyes were shining like two stars. She laid her hand
on Ranald's arm, and her voice grew steady as she said: "Thank God, my
boy, and thank you with all my heart. You risked your life for mine. You
are a brave fellow! I can never forget this!"

"Oh, pshaw!" said Ranald, awkwardly. "You are better stuff than I am.
You came back with Bugle. And I knew Liz could beat the pony whatever."
Then they walked their horses quietly to the stable, and nothing more
was said by either of them; but from that hour Ranald had a friend ready
to offer life for him, though he did not know it then nor till years
afterward.

CHAPTER V

FORGIVE US OUR DEBTS

Macdonald Dubh's farm lay about three miles north and west from the
manse, and the house stood far back from the cross-road in a small
clearing encircled by thick bush. It was a hard farm to clear, the
timber was heavy, the land lay low, and Macdonald Dubh did not make as
much progress as his neighbors in his conflict with the forest. Not but
that he was a hard worker and a good man with the ax, but somehow he did
not succeed as a farmer. It may have been that his heart was more in the
forest than in the farm. He was a famous hunter, and in the deer season
was never to be found at home, but was ever ranging the woods with his
rifle and his great deerhound, Bugle.

He made money at the shanties, but money would not stick to his fingers,
and by the time the summer was over most of his money would be gone,
with the government mortgage on his farm still unlifted. His habits
of life wrought a kind of wildness in him which set him apart from the
thrifty, steady-going people among whom he lived. True, the shanty-men
were his stanch friends and admirers, but then the shanty-men, though
well-doing, could hardly be called steady, except the boss of the
Macdonald gang, Macdonald Bhain, who was a regular attendant and stanch
supporter of the church, and indeed had been spoken of for an elder. But
from the church Macdonald Dubh held aloof. He belonged distinctly to the
"careless," though he could not be called irreligious. He had all the
reverence for "the Word of God, and the Sabbath day, and the church"
that characterized his people. All these held a high place in his
esteem; and though he would not presume to "take the books," not being a
member of the church, yet on the Sa