"'Out on you, gangrel. Gin ye canna rin ye shall ride. Pu' the auld wretch up ahint ye,' said Douglas, ready to be angry as soon as he was crossed, like all men in liquor. "And so we went over the hillside very carefully--such a road as beast was never set to gang on before. "'Keep doon the swearin' as muckle ye can,' ordered Sergeant Murphy. 'Lord, Lord, but this is heart-breaking!' "Sandy Gillespie, canny man, tried to dissuade him from going to Bongill that night. Which only made Douglas the more determined, thinking there was something or some-body that he might light on there, and so get great credit to himself. "'Gin the road be as dour, crooked, and coarse as the Cameronian's road to heaven, I'll gang that road this night!' said Lag, who was pleased with the death of the six Whigs at the Caldons--though, as it might be, vexed that he had not been at the shooting himself. "We were no more than clear of the loch-side path, when Douglas bade old Sandy tune his pipes to help the men along the easier road with a song. "'A Whig's sang or a King's-man's sang?' asked the auld tod blythely. "'Hoot, a Cavalier's song--what need hae we to tak' the Book here!' cried Douglas loudly. "'More need than inclination!' said Claverhouse scornfully, who was now riding beside them. "Sandy Gillespie, who was an exceedingly far-seeing old worthy, pretended that he was loth to sing, whereat Douglas ordered him with an oath to sing upon peril of his life. "So the old man struck up in a high piping voice, but none so ill in tune: 'Our thistles flourished fresh and fair, And bonny bloomed our roses, But Whigs cam' like a frost in June, And withered a' oor posies.' "As he went on the old man's voice grew louder, and in a little, half the command was cantily shouting the song, which indeed goes very well to march to. "'And there's Bongill,' cried Sandy, suddenly stopping and dropping off his horse, 'an' guid e'en to ye!' "And with that the old fellow slid off among the brush-wood and copse, and we saw no more of him--which perhaps was as well for him. "When we went into the little house of Bongill, we found an open door both back and front. Peats were blazing on the hearth. Great dishes of porridge sat on a table. Chairs and stools were overturned, and Bibles and Testaments lay everywhere. "'Curse the old dog. He has sung them a' to the hill,' cried Douglas. 'Have him out and shoot him.' "But Sandy was not to be seen. Only from the hillside, a voice--the same that had sung, 'Awa, Whigs, awa,' gave us 'Bonny Davie Leslie'; and then cried in mockery three times 'Good-night!' "So the night being pit mirk and the hill unknown, we took up our abode at Bongill till the morning. Sitting in the hole of the peat stack we found a strange object, a crazy natural, shapeless and ill-looking.