‘Maybe I could try them again,’ he began; ‘I’ll awa and see.’ ‘Get in!’ thundered Gilbert. At this moment Jimmy Stirk’s arm came out from under the hood, and Macquean was hauled into the seat beside him; Captain Somerville took a rein in each hand, and they whirled down the short drive, and swung out into the road with a couple of inches to spare between the gatepost and the box of the wheel. ‘You will hardly find that man of yours very useful,’ observed the sailor, as they were galloping down the Morphie road; ‘I cannot think why you brought him.’ Gilbert sat fuming; exasperation had impelled him to terrify Macquean, and, as soon as they had started, he realized the futility of his act. ‘The boy behind is worth two,’ he said. ‘There may be four or five of these rascals at the dovecot.’ ‘We must just do our best,’ said Gilbert, rather curtly. Somerville thought of his leg and sighed; how dearly he loved a fray no one knew but himself. As they approached Morphie, they stopped to extinguish their lights, and he began, in consequence, to drive with what he considered great caution, though Gilbert was still forced to cling to the rail beside him; Macquean, under the hood, was rolled and jolted from side to side in a manner that tended to make him no happier. His companion, seldom a waster of words, gave him little comfort when he spoke. ‘Ye’ve no gotten a stick wi’ ye,’ he observed, as they bowled through the flying mud. ‘Na,’ said Macquean faintly. ‘Ye’ll need it.’ There was a pause. ‘I kent a man that got a richt skelp from ane o’ they Blackport laddies,’ continued Jimmy; ‘’twas i’ the airm, too. It swelled, an’ the doctor just wheepit it off. I mind it well, for I was passin’ by the house at the time, an’ I heard him skirl.’ There was no reply from the corner of the hood and they pressed on; only Somerville, who had a habit of chirruping which attacked him the moment he took up the reins and only left him when he laid them down, relieved the silence. Thanks to the invisible moon, the uniform grayness which, though not light, was yet luminous, made the way plain, and the dark trees of Morphie could be seen massed in the distance. ‘I wonder they wad choose sic a night as this,’ remarked Jimmy; ‘it’s a peety, too, for they’ll likely see us if we dinna gang cannylike under the trees. Can ye run, Mr. Macquean?’ ‘Ay, can I,’ replied the other, grinning from under the safe cover of the darkness. A project was beginning to form itself in his mind. ‘There’ll be mair nor three or four. I’d like fine if we’d gotten another man wi’ us; we could hae ta’en them a’ then. They’re ill deevils to ficht wi’.’ ‘I could believe that,’ said Macquean. His expression was happily invisible to Stirk. ‘If I’d time, I could cut ye a bit stick frae the hedge,’ said Jimmy. ‘Heuch! dinna mind,’ replied Macquean soothingly.