And the boys had rolled the body of poor Kooran in a piece of old tartan plaid, and, followed by Shot, carried him up to the fairy glen, and buried him near the fairy knoll. Remember they were only boys. Then Kenneth sat down and cried. Archie had never before seen such an exhibition of weakness on the part of his friend, so what could he do but sit down and keep him company? They were only boys. Shot looked very sad. He did not know what to make of it all. He whined impatiently. Then he licked Archie's wet face and touched Kenneth under the arm with his nose, as some dogs have a way of doing. "Poor Shot!" said Kenneth. "You too have lost a faithful friend." Together, after this, they took their way down the hill. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ A short, crisp, and gentlemanly letter came to Kenneth two days after this. It was from Jessie's father. "My daughter has spoken much about you," said this epistle, "and quite induced me to take an interest in your welfare. The situation of under-ghillie at my Highland shooting-box is vacant. I have much pleasure in placing it at your disposal. You will be good enough therefore to enter on your duties on Monday next, etc, etc." Kenneth's cheek burned like a glowing peat. He tore the letter in fragments, and threw them in the fire. "Mother," he cried, "dear mother, it needed but this! I shall leave the glen. I go to seek our fortune--your fortune, mother, and my own. I shall return in a few years as wealthy mayhap as the proud Saxon who now offers me the position of under-ghillie. Mother, it is best I should go." I pass over the parting between the mother and her boy. With his flute in his pocket, with no other wealth except a few shillings and his Bible, Kenneth McAlpine turned his back on the glen, and went away out into the wide, wide world to seek his fortune. For years, if not for ever, he bade farewell to his Highland home and all he held so dear. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ End of Book First. CHAPTER ELEVEN. FOR AULD LANG SYNE. "We twa have paddled in the burn Frae mornin' sun till dine. But seas between us broad hae rolled Since the days o' auld lang syne." Burns. Scene: Landscape, seascape, and cloudscape. A more lovely view than that which met the eye of a stranger, who had seated himself on Cotago Cliff this evening, it was never surely the lot of mortal man to behold. It was on the northern shores of South America, and many miles to the eastward of Venezuela Gulf.