tle dark figures: my
mother with her face sunk in her Shetland shawl, and my father waving
his drover's stick to hearten me upon my way.

CHAPTER XI.

THE GATHERING OF THE NATIONS.

And now I come to a bit of my story that clean takes my breath away as I
think of it, and makes me wish that I had never taken the job of telling
it in hand. For when I write I like things to come slow and orderly and
in their turn, like sheep coming out of a paddock. So it was at West
Inch. But now that we were drawn into a larger life, like wee bits of
straw that float slowly down some lazy ditch, until they suddenly find
themselves in the dash and swirl of a great river; then it is very hard
for me with my simple words to keep pace with it all. But you can find
the cause and reason of everything in the books about history, and so I
shall just leave that alone and talk about what I saw with my own eyes
and heard with my own ears.

The regiment to which our friend had been appointed was the 71st
Highland Light Infantry, which wore the red coat and the trews, and had
its depot in Glasgow town. There we went, all three, by coach: the
Major in great spirits and full of stories about the Duke and the
Peninsula, while Jim sat in the corner with his lips set and his arms
folded, and I knew that he killed de Lissac three times an hour in his
heart. I could tell it by the sudden glint of his eyes and grip of his
hand. As to me, I did not know whether to be glad or sorry; for home is
home, and it is a weary thing, however you may brazen it out, to feel
that half Scotland is between you and your mother.

We were in Glasgow next day, and the Major took us down to the depot,
where a soldier with three stripes on his arm and a fistful of ribbons
from his cap, showed every tooth he had in his head at the sight of Jim,
and walked three times round him to have the view of him, as if he had
been Carlisle Castle. Then he came over to me and punched me in the
ribs and felt my muscle, and was nigh as pleased as with Jim.

"These are the sort, Major, these are the sort," he kept saying.
"With a thousand of these we could stand up to Boney's best."

"How do they run?" asked the Major.

"A poor show," said he, "but they may lick into shape. The best men
have been drafted to America, and we are full of Militiamen and
recruities."

"Tut, tut!" said the Major. "We'll have old soldiers and good ones
against us. Come to me if you need any h