Most of the Thrums lights were already out, and that in the
windmill disappeared as footsteps were heard.

"You're desperate characters," the policeman cried, but got no
answer. He changed his tactics.

"A fine nicht for the time o' year," he cried. No answer.

"But I wouldna wonder," he shouted, "though we had rain afore
morning." No answer.

"Surely you could gie me a word frae ahint the door. You're doing
an onlawful thing, but I dinna ken wha you are."

"You'll swear to that?" some one asked gruffly.

"I swear to it, Peter."

Wearyworld tried another six remarks in vain.

"Ay," he said to the minister, "that's what it is to be an
onpopular man. And now I'll hae to turn back, for the very anes
that winna let me join them would be the first to complain if I
gaed out o' bounds."

Gavin found Dow at New Zealand, a hamlet of mud houses, whose
tenants could be seen on any Sabbath morning washing themselves in
the burn that trickled hard by. Rob's son, Micah, was asleep at
the door, but he brightened when he saw who was shaking him.