"It may be that I hef judged him hardly," said Lachlan Campbell, one of the Free Kirk Highlanders, and our St. Dominic. "I shall never again deny that the root of the matter is in the man, although much choked with the tares of worldliness and Arminianism." "He is a goot man, Lachlan," replied Donald Menzies, another Celt, and he was our St. Francis, for "every one that loveth is born of God." There was no hearse in Drumtochty, and we carried our dead by relays of four, who waded every stream unless more than knee deep, the rest following in straggling, picturesque procession over the moor and across the stepping stones. Before we started, Marget came out and arranged George's white silken hood upon the coffin with roses in its folds. She swept us into one brief flush of gratitude, from Domsie to Posty. "Neeburs, ye were a' his freends, and he wanted ye tae ken hoo yir trust wes mickle help tae him in his battle." There was a stir within us, and it came to birth in Drumsheugh of all men: "Marget Hoo, this is no the day for mony words, but there's juist ae heart in Drumtochty, and it's sair." No one spoke to Domsie as we went down the cart track, with the ripe corn standing on either side, but he beckoned Chalmers to walk with him. "Ye hae heard him speak o' me, then, Maister Jamieson?" "Ay, oftentimes, and he said once that ye were hard driven, but that ye had trampled Satan under yir feet." "He didna tell ye all, for if it hadna been for George Howe I wudna been worth callin' a man this day. One night when he was workin' hard for his honours examination and his disease was heavy upon him, puir fellow, he sought me oot where I was, and wouldna leave till I cam' wi him. "'Go home,' I said, 'Howe; it's death for ye to be oot in this sleet and cold. Why not leave me to lie in the bed I hae made?' "He took me by the arm into a passage. I see the gaslicht on his white face, and the shining o' his eyes. "'Because I have a mother...' "Dominie, he pulled me oot o' hell." "Me tae, Andra, but no your hell. Ye mind the Roman Triumph, when a general cam' hame wi' his spoils. Laddie, we're the captives that go with his chariot up the Capitol." Donald Menzies was a man of moods, and the Doctor's prayer had loosed his imagination so that he saw visions. "Look," said he, as we stood on a ridge, "I hef seen it before in the book of Joshua." Below the bearers had crossed a burn on foot, and were ascending the slope where an open space of deep green was fringed with purple heather. "The ark hass gone over Jordan, and George will have come into the Land of Promise." The September sunshine glinted on the white silk George won with his blood, and fell like a benediction on the two figures that climbed the hard ascent close after the man they loved.