"Harkee, comrade, what garrison or fortress is this," asked the visitor, "that peaceable folks are to be challenged in this fashion, and forced to give parole and countersign before they march in--eh?" "It is my house, comrade; and so you had better keep a civil tongue in your head." "Civil tongue? Fire and smoke, you mangy cur! I can be as civil as my neighbours; but get me a glass of grog, for I am as wet as we were the night before Minden." "Where have you come from in such a storm as this?" "Where you'd not like to go--so never mind; but, grog, I tell you--get me some grog, and a bit of tobacco; it is long since I tasted either." Ewen hastened to get a large quaighful of stiff Glenlivat, which the veteran drained to his health, and that of Meinie; but first he gave them a most diabolical grin, and threw into the liquor some black stuff, saying,-- "I always mix my grog with gunpowder--it's a good tonic; I learned that of a comrade who fell at Minden on the glorious 1st of August, '59. "You have been a soldier, then?" "Right! I was one of the 25th, or old Edinburgh Regiment; they enlisted me, though an Englishman, I believe; for my good old dam was a follower of the camp." "Our number was the 26th--the old Cameronian Regiment--so we were near each other, you see, comrade." "Nearer than you would quite like, mayhap," said Wooden-leg, with another grin and a dreadful oath. "And you have served in Germany?" asked Ewen. "Germany--aye, and marched over every foot of it, from Hanover to Hell, and back again. I have fought in Flanders, too." "I wish you had come a wee while sooner," said Ewen gravely, for this discourse startled his sense of propriety. "Sooner," snarled this shocking old fellow, who must have belonged to that army, "which swore so terribly in Flanders," as good Uncle Toby says; "sooner--for what?" "To have heard me read a chapter, and to have joined us in prayer." "Prayers be d--ned!" cried the other, with a shout of laughter, and a face expressive of fiendish mockery, as he gave his wooden leg a thundering blow on the floor; "fire and smoke--another glass of grog--and then we'll settle about my billet upstairs." While getting another dram, which hospitality prevented him from refusing, Ewen scrutinised this strange visitor, whose aspect and attire were very remarkable; but wholly careless of what any one thought, he sat by the hearth, wringing his wet wig, and drying it at the fire.