d shall produce him, no fear."

And with that the two old gentlemen parted, loyal to a lifelong
friendship, but loyal first to the trust of those they stood pledged to
serve; for the friendship that gives first place to honour is the only
friendship that honourable men can hold.

Mr. Rae set off for his office through the drizzling rain. "Now then,
for the Captain," he said to himself; "and a state he will be in! Why
did I ever summon him to town? Then for Mr. Dunn, who must keep his eye
upon the young man."

In his office he found Captain Cameron in a state of distraction that
rendered him incapable of either coherent thought or speech. "What now,
Rae? Where have you been? What news have you? My God, this thing is
driving me mad! Penal servitude! Think of it, man, for my son! Oh, the
scandal of it! It will kill me and kill his sister. What's your report?
Come, out with it! Have you seen Mr. Sheratt?" He was pacing up and down
the office like a beast in a cage.

"Tut, tut, Captain Cameron," said Mr. Rae lightly, "this is no way for
a soldier to face the enemy. Sit down and we will just lay out our
campaign."

But the Captain's soldiering, which was of the lightest, had taught him
little either of the spirit or of the tactics of warfare. "Campaign!" he
exclaimed. "There's no campaign about it. It's a complete smash, horse,
foot, and artillery."

"Nonsense, Captain Cameron!" exclaimed Mr. Rae more briskly than his
wont, for the Captain irritated him. "We have still fighting to do, and
hence we must plan our campaign. But first let us get comfortable. Here
Davie," he called, opening the office door, "here, mend this fire. It's
a winter's day this," he continued to the Captain, "and goes to the
marrow."

Davie, a wizened, clean-shaven, dark-visaged little man, appeared with a
scuttle of coal. "Ay, Davie; that's it! Is that cannel?"

"Ay, Sir, it is. What else? I aye get the cannel."

"That's right, Davie. It's a gran' coal."

"Gran' it's no'," said Davie shortly, who was a fierce radical in
politics, and who strove to preserve his sense of independence of all
semblance of authority by cultivating a habit of disagreement. "Gran'
it's no'," he repeated, "but it's the best the Farquhars hae, though
that's no' saying much. It's no' what I call cannel."

"Well, well, Davie, it blazes finely at any rate," said Mr. Rae,
determined to be cheerful, and rubbing his hands before the blazing
coal.

"Ay, it bleezes," gru