“The _Sidier Dhu?_ the black soldier; that is what they call the independent companies that were raised to keep peace and law in the Highlands. Vich Ian Vohr commanded one of them for five years, and I was sergeant mysell, I shall warrant ye. They call them_ Sidier Dhu_ because they wear the tartans, as they call your men—King George’s men—_Sidier Roy_, or red soldiers.” “Well, but when you were in King George’s pay, Evan, you were surely King George’s soldiers?” “Troth, and you must ask Vich Ian Vohr about that; for we are for his king, and care not much which o’ them it is. At ony rate, nobody can say we are King George’s men now, when we have not seen his pay this twelve-month.” This last argument admitted of no reply, nor did Edward attempt any; he rather chose to bring back the discourse to Donald Bean Lean. “Does Donald confine himself to cattle, or does he ‘lift,’ as you call it, anything else that comes in his way?” “Troth, he’s nae nice body, and he’ll just tak onything, but most readily cattle, horse, or live Christians; for sheep are slow of travel, and inside plenishing is cumbrous to carry, and not easy to put away for siller in this country.” “But does he carry off men and women?” “Out, ay. Did not ye hear him speak o’ the Perth bailie? It cost that body five hundred merks ere he got to the south of Bally-Brough. And ance Donald played a pretty sport.[17] There was to be a blythe bridal between the Lady Cramfeezer, in the howe o’ the Mearns (she was the auld laird’s widow, and no sae young as she had been hersell), and young Gilliewhackit, who had spent his heirship and movables, like a gentleman, at cock-matches, bull-baitings, horse-races, and the like. Now, Donald Bean Lean, being aware that the bridegroom was in request, and wanting to cleik the cunzie (that is, to hook the siller), he cannily carried off Gilliewhackit ae night when he was riding _dovering_ hame (wi’ the malt rather abune the meal), and with the help of his gillies he gat him into the hills with the speed of light, and the first place he wakened in was the cove of Uaimh an Ri. So there was old to do about ransoming the bridegroom; for Donald would not lower a farthing of a thousand punds—” “The devil!”