'My brither Sandy's ill-faured groom,' answered Shargar. 'Whatever mischeef Sandy's up till, Jock comes in i' the heid or tail o' 't.' 'I wonner what he's up till noo.' 'Faith! nae guid. But I aye like waur to meet Sandy by himsel' upo' that reekit deevil o' his. Man, it's awfu' whan Black Geordie turns the white o' 's ee, an' the white o' 's teeth upo' ye. It's a' the white 'at there is about 'im.' 'Wasna yer brither i' the airmy, Shargar?' 'Ow, 'deed ay. They tell me he was at Watterloo. He's a cornel, or something like that.' 'Wha tellt ye a' that?' 'My mither whiles,' answered Shargar. CHAPTER XI. ROBERT'S VOW. Ericson was recovering slowly. He could sit up in bed the greater part of the day, and talk about getting out of it. He was able to give Robert an occasional help with his Greek, and to listen with pleasure to his violin. The night-watching grew less needful, and Ericson would have dispensed with it willingly, but Robert would not yet consent. But Ericson had seasons of great depression, during which he could not away with music, or listen to the words of the New Testament. During one of these Robert had begun to read a chapter to him, in the faint hope that he might draw some comfort from it. 'Shut the book,' he said. 'If it were the word of God to men, it would have brought its own proof with it.' 'Are ye sure it hasna?' asked Robert. 'No,' answered Ericson. 'But why should a fellow that would give his life--that's not much, but it's all I've got--to believe in God, not be able? Only I confess that God in the New Testament wouldn't satisfy me. There's no help. I must just die, and go and see.--She'll be left without anybody. 'What does it matter? She would not mind a word I said. And the God they talk about will just let her take her own way. He always does.' He had closed his eyes and forgotten that Robert heard him. He opened them now, and fixed them on him with an expression that seemed to ask, 'Have I been saying anything I ought not?' Robert knelt by the bedside, and said, slowly, with strongly repressed emotion, 'Mr. Ericson, I sweir by God, gin there be ane, that gin ye dee, I'll tak up what ye lea' ahin' ye. Gin there be onybody ye want luikit efter, I'll luik efter her. I'll do what I can for her to the best o' my abeelity, sae help me God--aye savin' what I maun do for my ain father, gin he be in life, to fess (bring) him back to the richt gait, gin there be a richt gait. Sae ye can think aboot whether there's onything ye wad like to lippen till me.' A something grew in Ericson's eyes as Robert spoke. Before he had finished, they beamed on the boy.