When I went below I found my servant ready and waiting, with the horses saddled and my meal prepared. The soldiers had gone early, paying no score; for when their liquor had left them they had wakened up to the solemn conviction that this countryside was not like to be a pleasant habitation for them for many months to come. So they had gone off to Heaven knows where, cutting my bridle-rein as a last token of their affection. It was near ten o’clock ere we started, the two of us, on our road to the West. I had travelled it many times, for it was the way to Glasgow, and I found myself calling up, whether I would or no, a thousand half-sad and half-pleasing memories. At this place I had stopped to water my horse, at this cottage I had halted for an hour, at this hostel I had lain the night. Had I not looked at my comrade every now and then, I might have fancied that I was still the schoolboy, with his wide interest in letters and life, and little knowledge of either, with half a dozen letters in his pocket, looking forward with fear and hope to town and college. Heigh-ho! Many things had come and gone since then, and here was I still the same boy, but ah! how tossed and buffeted and perplexed. Yet I would not have bartered my present state for those careless and joyous years, for after all this is a rugged world, with God knows how many sore straits and devilish temptations, but with so many fair and valiant rewards, that a man is a coward indeed who would not battle through the one for the sweet sake of the other. As we went Nicol talked of many things with a cheery good humour. His was an adventure-loving mind, and there were few things which he would not brave save the routine of settled life. Now, as the November sun came out, for the morn was frosty and clear, his face shone with the sharp air and the excitement of the ride, and he entertained me to his views on the world and the things in it. The ground was hard as steel underfoot, the horse’s hooves crackled through the little ice-coated pools in the road, and a solitary thrush sang its song from a wayside wood and seemed like a silver trump calling to action and daring. "What think ye o’ the hills, Laird?" said my servant. "Ye’ve been lang among them, and ye’ll ken them noo in anither way than if ye had just trampit ower them after wild-jucks or ridden through them to Yarrow or Moffatdale. I’ve wandered among them since I was a laddie five ’ear auld, and used to gang oot wi’ my faither to the herdin’. And since then I’ve traivelled up Tweed and doun Tweed, and a’ ower the Clydeside and the Annanside, no to speak o’ furrin pairts, and I can weel say that I ken naucht sae awfu’ and sae kindly, sae couthy and bonny and hamely, and, at the same time, sae cauld and cruel, as juist thae green hills and muirs." "You speak truly," said I. "I’ve seen them in all weathers and I know well what you mean."