"Can you lead them where you will?"

His back stiffened, and the spirit of a general looked out of his eyes.

"They will follow where I bid. There's no a man of them dare cheep at
what I tell them."

"My work is done," I said. "I go to whence I came. And some day I shall
go to Cramond and tell Alison that John Gib is no disgrace to his kin."

"Would you put up a prayer?" he said timidly. "I would be the better of
one."

Then for the first and last time in my life I spoke aloud to my Maker
in another's presence, and it was surely the strangest petition ever
offered.

"Lord," I prayed, "Thou seest Thy creature, John Gib, who by the
perverseness of his heart has come to the edge of grievous sin. Take
the cloud from his spirit, arrange his disordered wits, and lead him to
a wiser life. Keep him in mind of his own land, and of her who prays
for him. Guide him over hills and rivers to an enlarged country, and
make his arm strong against his enemies, so be they are not of his own
kin. And if ever he should hearken again to the devil, do Thou blast
his body with Thy fires, so that his soul may be saved."

"Amen," said he, and I went out of the tent to find the grey dawn
beginning to steal up the sky.