departure, with having disappointed all those dreams of military service
and glory that are almost the natural inheritance of a Macleod of the
Western Highlands? If he was a stay-at-home, at least his hands were not
white. And yet, when young Ogilvie and he studied under the same
tutor--the poor man had to travel eighteen miles between the two houses,
many a time in hard weather--all the talk and aspirations of the boys
were about a soldier's life; and Macleod could show his friend the
various trophies, and curiosities sent home by his elder brothers from
all parts of the world. And now the lily-fingered and gentle-natured
Ogilvie was at Aldershot; while he--what else was he than a mere
deer-stalker and salmon-killer?

"Ogilvie has been very kind to me, mother," he said, laughing. "He has
sent me a list of places in London where I am to get my clothes, and
boots, and a hat; and by the time I have done that, he will be up from
Aldershot, and will lead me about--with a string round my neck, I
suppose, lest I should bite somebody."

"You could not go better to London than in your own tartan," said the
proud mother; "and it is not for an Ogilvie to say how a Macleod should
be dressed. But it is no matter, one after the other has gone; the house
is left empty at last. And they all went away like you, with a laugh on
their face. It was but a trip, a holiday, they said: they would soon be
back to Dare. And where are they this night?"

Old Hamish came in.

"It will be time for the boat now, Sir Keith, and the men are down at
the shore."