‘In less than an hour, at any rate,’ he answered as he drove away; and Margaret, seeing some schoolgirls whom she knew engaged in sliding, went off to speak to them. At this point a loud roar of laughter came from the group of men standing at the side of the loch; and Lord Bantock, who dearly loved a joke, hurried back to them. ‘Old Simpson is telling some of his stories; let us go and hear him,’ said Alec Lindsay, as, passing his arm through his friend’s, he led him up to the little crowd. A tall man with a lean, smooth face, dressed in a high hat and black frock-coat, and wearing an old-fashioned black silk handkerchief round his neck, was standing in a slouching attitude, his hands half out of his pockets, while the others hung around in silence, waiting for his next anecdote. ‘That minds me,’ he was saying, as Alec and Cameron came up, ‘that minds me o’ what auld Craig o’ the Burn-Fuit said to wee Jamieson the writer.[4] Craig was a dour,[5] ill-tempered man; and though he had never fashed the kirk muckle, the minister cam’ to see him on one occasion when it was thocht he was near his hinner-en’. ‘“Ye’re deein’, Burn-Fuit,” says Maister Symie. ‘“No jist yet, minister,” says Craig. ‘“I doot ye’re deein’; an’ it behoves ye to mak’ your peace wi’ the haill warl’,” says the minister. ‘Craig gied a sigh, as if it was the hardest job he could set himself tae. After a heap o’ talkin’ the minister got him persuaded to see Jamieson, who just then was his great enemy--he aye had ane or twa o’ them--an’ forgie him for some ill-turn the writer had dune him. An’ wi’ jist as much persuasion he got Jamieson to come to the deein’ man’s bedside, and be a pairty to the reconciliation. ‘Sae the twa met, and had a freenly crack i’ the minister’s presence. Guid Mr. Symie was delighted. As the writer was depairtin’, they shook hands. ‘“Guid-day, Maister Jamieson,” says Craig. “Ye’ve done me many an ill-turn, but I forgie ye. But mind--mind, if I get weel, a’ this gangs for nowt!”’ A laugh followed the schoolmaster’s story; and the group dispersed to see that the preparations which were being made on the ice were duly performed. A small hole had already been bored at each end of the principal rink. Each of these was to be in its turn the ‘tee,’ or mark. At some distance from each of the tees, a line called the ‘hog-score’ was drawn across the ice. Stones which did not pass this line were not to be allowed to count, and were to be removed at once from the ice. A long piece of wood, with nails driven through it at fixed intervals, was now placed with one of its ends resting on the tee, and held there firmly, while it was slowly turned round on the ice. The result of this operation was that the ice was marked by circles drawn at equal distances from the tee, by which the relative distances of two stones from the central point could be easily determined. The players having been already selected, the match began as soon as this was done.