"Bide ye doon, Alec," she said, very quietly, "it's no oor turn yet!" At this the heart within me gave way, and I roared out in my helpless pain a perfect "gowl" of anger and grief. "Bonny Whigs ye are," cried Westerha', "to dee withoot even a prayer. Put up a prayer this minute, for ye shall all dee, every one of you." And the boy James Johnstone made answer to him: "Sir, we cannot pray, for we be too young to pray." "You are not too young to rebel, nor yet to die for it!" was the brute-beast's answer. Then with that the little girl held up a hand as if she were answering a dominie in a class. "An it please ye, sir," she said, "me an' Alec canna pray, but we can sing 'The Lord's my Shepherd,' gin that wull do! My mither learned it us afore she gaed awa'." And before any one could stop her, she stood up like one that leads the singing in a kirk. "Stan' up, Alec, my wee mannie," she said. Then all the bairns stood up. I declare it minded me of Bethlehem and the night when Herod's troopers rode down to look for Mary's bonny Bairn. Then from the lips of the babes and sucklings arose the quavering strains: "The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want. He makes me down to lie In pastures green; He leadeth me The quiet waters by." As they sang I gripped out my pistols and began to sort and prime them, hardly knowing what I did. For I was resolved to make a break for it, and, at the least, to blow a hole in James Johnstone of Westerha' that would mar him for life before I suffered any more of it. But as they sang I saw trooper after trooper turn away his head, for, being Scots bairns, they had all learned that psalm. The ranks shook. Man after man fell out, and I saw the tears happing down their cheeks. But it was Douglas of Morton, that stark persecutor, who first broke down. "Curse it, Westerha'," he cried, "I canna thole this langer. I'll war nae mair wi' bairns for a' the earldom i' the North." And at last even Westerha' turned his bridle rein, and rode away from off the bonny holms of Shieldhill, for the victory was to the bairns. I wonder what his thoughts were, for he too had learned that psalm at the knees of his mother. And as the troopers rode loosely up hill and down brae, broken and ashamed, the sound of these bairns' singing followed after them, and soughing across the fells came the words: "Yea, though I walk in Death's dark vale, Yet will I fear none ill: For Thou art with me; and Thy rod And staff me comfort still." Then Westerha' swore a great oath and put the spurs in his horse to get clear of the sweet singing. CHAPTER X. THE GRAVE IN THE WILDERNESS.