"`Musk,'" sighed Andrew. "Oh ay, `Money Musk' mak's ta plood stir in a man maist as much as `Tullochgorum.'" "Or `The Gathering of the Clans,' Andra," cried Steve. "Hey, she's crant!" cried the man excitedly. "She stirs the plood, too." "Yes, and it rouses up the men." "She feels as if she cauld play it a pit the noo." "Could you? Then look here, Andra. We're going to have a run across the fiord in the moonlight. It's full moon and as clear as day." "She's retty the noo," said Watty. "That's right, Watty; and I want Andra to come, too. Look here, old fellow. Get the pipes, and you and I and Watty'll go at the head of the men, and we'll march across to the side, with you playing `The Gathering of the Clans' in the moonlight, and making the mountains ring. Why, it would be grand." "Ay, she'd pe crant," said Watty; "put she couldna play it. The notes would freeze, ant come rattling doon like hail-stanes." "No, they wouldn't, Watty. My word, how the old pipes would make the mountain-side ring and echo again! Such a sound was never heard before so far north." "Hey! and if she had a claymore an' the plaidie--the plaidie o' the McByles." "Never mind the plaid, Andra. Put on the sheep-skin coat, and come and try." The man's eyes flashed, and, raising himself on his elbow, he thrust one hand behind him, and brought out his beloved pipes from under the blankets. "Tak' haud, laddie," he said. "She was frichten tat the pahg might freeze hairt, put she's quite saft. She'll be retty tirectly." In ten minutes Andrew was in his big boots and sheep-skin coat and hood, ready to stretch out his hands for the pipes. "Ahoy, Mr Steve!" came from the deck in Johannes voice. "We're ready to start." "Coming!" cried Steve, who was trembling for fear his efforts had been thrown away and that Andrew would shirk. But the man pulled himself together, and marched out with quite a military bearing on to the deck, which was empty, and then down the snow steps to where the men were waiting with the captain at their head. And as Steve and his companions stepped out into the bright moonlight reflected from the dazzling snow, the men burst into a cheer, which they repeated when, without a word, Steve took his place with Watty in front, and then signed to Andrew to go first. The Highlander did not hesitate, but threw back his head, placed the mouthpiece to his lips, blew out the bag, and then stepped off, sending forth the wild notes quivering on the frosty air. He played, and played well, the thrilling strains, which echoed and throbbed from the sides of the rock in a weird and wonderful manner, and sent a curious sensation trembling through the nerves of every man present.