there they met. Although he had never seen him before, Malcolm
perceived at once it must be Lord Lossie, and lifted his bonnet.
The marquis nodded and passed on, but the next moment, hearing the
noise of Malcolm's proceedings with the swivel, turned and said--
"What are you about there with that gun, my lad?"

"I'm jist ga'in' to dicht her oot an' lod her, my lord," answered
Malcolm.

"And what next? You're not going to fire the thing?"

"Ay--the morn's mornin', my lord."

"What will that be for?"

"Ow, jist to wauk yer lordship."

"Hm!" said his lordship, with more expression than articulation.

"Will I no lod her?" asked Malcolm, throwing down the ramrod, and
approaching the swivel, as if to turn the muzzle of it again into
the embrasure.

"Oh, yes! load her by all means. I don't want to interfere with
any of your customs. But if that is your object, the means, I fear,
are inadequate."

"It's a comfort to hear that, my lord; for I canna aye be sure o'
my auld watch, an' may weel be oot a five minutes or twa whiles.
Sae, in future, seem' it's o' sic sma' consequence to yer lordship,