The minister's one thought was to find her, but he searched in vain. She might be crossing the hill on her way to Thrums, or perhaps she was still laughing at him from behind a tree. After a longer time than he was aware of, Gavin realised that his boots were chirping and his trousers streaked with mud. Then he abandoned the search and hastened homewards in a rage. From the hill to the manse the nearest way is down two fields, and the little minister descended them rapidly. Thrums, which is red in daylight, was grey and still as the cemetery. He had glimpses of several of its deserted streets. To the south the watch-light showed brightly, but no other was visible. So it seemed to Gavin, and then--suddenly--he lost the power to of people at one moment and empty the next, the minister stumbled over old Charles Yuill, "Take me and welcome," Yuill cried, mistaking Gavin for the enemy. He had only one arm through the sleeve of his jacket, and his feet were bare. "I am Mr. Dishart. Are the soldiers already in the square, Yuill?" "They'll be there in a minute." The man was so weak that Gavin had to hold him. "Be a man, Charles. You have nothing to fear. It is not such as you the soldiers have come for. If need be, I can swear that you had not the strength, even if you had the will, to join in the weavers' riot." "For Godsake, Mr. Dishart," Yuill cried, his hands chattering on Gavin's coat, "dinna swear that. My laddie was in the thick o' the riot; and if he's ta'en there's the poor's-house gaping for Kitty and me, for I couldna weave half a web a week. If there's a warrant agin onybody o' the name of Yuill, swear it's me; swear I'm a desperate character, swear I'm michty strong for all I look palsied; and if when they take me, my courage breaks down, swear the mair, swear I confessed my guilt to you on the Book." As Yuill spoke the quick rub-a-dub of a drum was heard. "The soldiers!" Gavin let go his hold of the old man, who hastened away to give himself up. "That's no the sojers," said a woman; "it's the folk gathering in the square. This'll be a watery Sabbath In Thrums." "Rob Dow," shouted Gavin, as Dow flung past with a scythe in his hand, "lay down that scythe." "To hell wi' religion!" Rob retorted, fiercely; "it spoils a' thing." "Lay down that scythe; I command you." Rob stopped undecidedly, then cast the scythe from him, but its rattle on the stones was more than he could bear. "I winna," he cried, and, picking it up, ran to the square. An upper window in Bank Street opened, and Dr. McQueen put out his head. He was smoking as usual. "Mr. Dishart," he said, "you will return home at once if you are a wise man; or, better still, come in here. You can do nothing with these people to-night." "I can stop their fighting." "You will only make black blood between them and you." "Dinna heed him, Mr. Dishart," cried some women. "You had better heed him," cried a man. "I will not desert my people," Gavin said.