wud hae been drifted up again before morning. We've cleared awa the snow
at the back for the prayer; ye 'ill get in at the kitchen door.

"There's a puckle Dunleith men-----"

"Wha?" cried Jamie in an instant.

"Dunleith men," said Drumsheugh.

"Div ye mean they're here, whar are they?"

"Drying themsels at the fire, an' no withoot need; ane of them gied
ower the head in a drift, and his neeburs hed tae pu' him oot.

"It took them a gude fower oors tae get across, an' it wes coorse wark;
they likit him weel doon that wy, an', Jamie, man"--here Drumsheugh's
voice changed its note, and his public manner disappeared--"what div ye
think o' this? every man o' them has on his blacks."

"It's mair than cud be expeckit" said Jamie; "but whar dae yon men come
frae, Drumsheugh?"

Two men in plaids were descending the hill behind the doctor's cottage,
taking three feet at a stride, and carrying long staffs in their hands.

"They're Glen Urtach men, Jamie, for are o' them wes at Kildrummie fair
wi' sheep, but hoo they've wun doon passes me."

"It canna be, Drumsheugh," said Jamie, greatly excited. "Glen Urtach's
steikit up wi' sna like a locked door.