“I do not argue with sectaries!” he stammered, turning on his heel. “Nor I with knavish deceivers,” cried Alexander Gordon, “of whom there are two here--Andrew Cameron and William Boyd. With this right hand I paid them the golden money for their education, wrung from the instant needs of poor hill folk who had lost their all, and who depended oftentime on charity for their bite of bread. From men attainted, from men earning in foreign lands the bitter bread of exile, from men and women imprisoned, shilling by shilling, penny by penny, that money came. It was ill-spent on men like these. William Boyd and Andrew Cameron swore solemn oaths. They took upon them the unbreakable and immutable Covenants. In time they became ministers, and we looked for words of light and wisdom and guidance from them. But we of the Faithful Remnant looked in vain. For lo! Cæsar sat upon his throne, and right gladly they bowed the knee. They licked the gold from his garments like honey. They mumbled his shoe-string that he might graciously permit them to sit at ease in his high places. “Bah!” he cried, so that his voice was heard miles off on the hill-tops, “out upon all such cowards and traitors! And now, folk of this parish, will ye let such scurril loons persuade you to give up your true and faithful minister, on whose tongue is the word of truth, and in whose heart is no fear of the face of any man?” The frightened Presbyters melted before him, some of them swarming off with the men of evil life--the lairds and heritors of the parish. Others mounted their horses and rode homeward as if the devil of Rerrick himself had been after them. Thus was ended the Disputation of Cullenoch near to Clachanpluck, in the shaming of those that withstood us. CHAPTER XXVIII. ALEXANDER-JONITA’S VICTORY. But as for my brother, concerning whom was all this pother, he took no hand at all in the matter. If the people wished him to abide with them, they must maintain him there. Contrariwise, if the Master he served had other fields of labour, he would break down dykes and make plain his path before him. But as it was, he went about as usual with his pilgrim staff in his hand visiting the sick, succouring the poor, lifting up the head of weakness and pain. On the day when the Sheriff came with his men to the water-edge, Quintin saw from the manse window a little cloud of men running hither and thither upon the river-bank. “There is surely some great ploy of fishing afoot!” he said, quietly, and so let his eyes fall again contentedly upon his book. “Faith, ’tis easy to hoodwink a learned man,” cried Alexander-Jonita when I told her.