the manner of his kind, merchant and trader as well as planter and maker
of laws--had built, and which, through his agent in Virginia, he had
maintained.

Before one of the benches a man was kneeling with his back to Haward, who
could only see that his garb was that of a servant, and that his hands
were busily moving certain small objects this way and that upon the board.
At the edge of the space of bare earth were a horse-block and a
hitching-post. Haward rode up to them, dismounted, and fastened his horse,
then walked over to the man at the bench.

So intent was the latter upon his employment that he heard neither horse
nor rider. He had some shells, a few bits of turf, and a double handful of
sand, and he was arranging these trifles upon the rough, unpainted boards
in a curious and intricate pattern. He was a tall man, with hair that was
more red than brown, and he was dressed in a shirt of dowlas, leather
breeches, and coarse plantation-made shoes and stockings.

"What are you doing?" asked Haward, after a moment's silent watching of
the busy fingers and intent countenance.

There was no start of awakened consciousness upon the other's part. "Why,"
he said, as if he had asked the question of himself, "with this sand I
have traced the shores of Loch-na-Keal. This turf is green Ulva, and this
is Gometra, and the shell is Little Colonsay. With this wet sand I have
moulded Ben Grieg, and this higher pile is Ben More. If I had but a sprig
of heather, now, or a pebble from the shore of Scridain!"

The voice, while harsh, was not disagreeably so, and neither the words nor
the manner of using them smacked of the rustic.