himself down on the slab for a pleasant probing into the soul of
this courageous dominie, who had long been under fire for his
innovations in the kirk services.

"I heard of Bobby first early in the winter, from a Bible-reader
at the Medical Mission in the Cowgate, who saw the little dog's
master buried. He sees many strange, sad things in his work, but
nothing ever shocked him so as the lonely death of that pious old
shepherd in such a picturesque den of vice and misery."

"Ay, he went from my place, fair ill, into the storm. I never
knew whaur the auld man died."

The minister looked at Mr. Traill, struck by the note of remorse
in his tone.

"The missionary returned to the churchyard to look for the dog
that had refused to leave the grave. He concluded that Bobby had
gone away to a new home and master, as most dogs do go sooner or
later. Some weeks afterward the minister of a small church in the
hills inquired for him and insisted that he was still here. This
last week, at the General Assembly, I heard of the wee Highlander
from several sources. The tales of his escapes from the
sheep-farm have grown into a sort of Odyssey of the Pentlands. I
think, perhaps, if you had not continued to feed him, Mr. Traill,
he might have remained at his old home."

"Nae, I'm no' thinking so, and I was no' willing to risk the
starvation of the bonny, leal Highlander."