The pipes were over his shoulder as he walked away along the moonlit road; but he did not tune up; he had had enough playing for that evening. And be sure that in his mind there was no discontent because he had no allotment of land on the Platte Valley, nor yet a place in a Chicago bank, nor the glory of being pipe-major to a Highland regiment. He was perfectly content as he was; and knew naught of these things. If there was any matter troubling him—on this still and moonlight night, as he walked blithely along, inhaling the keen sweet air, and conscious of the companionship of the faithful Harry—it was that the jog-trot kind of tune he had invented for certain verses did not seem to have sufficient definiteness about it. But then the verses themselves—as they kept time to his tramp on the road—were careless and light-hearted enough: _The blossom was white on the blackthorn tree,_ _And the mavis was singing rarely;_ _When Meenie, Love Meenie, walked out wi’ me,_ _All in the springtime early._ _’Meenie, Love Meenie, your face let me see,_ _Meenie, come answer me fairly;_ _Meenie, Love Meenie, will you wed me,_ _All in the springtime early?’_ _Meenie but laughed; and kentna the pain_ _That shot through my heart fu’ sairly:_ _’Kind sir, it’s a maid that I would remain,_ _All in the springtime early.’_ And ’Hey, Harry, lad,’ he was saying, as he entered the cottage and went into the little parlour, where a candle had been left burning, ’we’ll have our supper together now; for between you and me I’m just as hungry as a gled.’ *CHAPTER V.* *BEGINNINGS.* Next day promised to give them sharper work on the loch. The weather had changed towards the morning; showers of hail had fallen; and now all the hills around—Ben Hee and Ben Hope and Ben Loyal—had their far peaks and shoulders powdered over, while the higher slopes and summit of the giant Clebrig were one solid mass of white. It was much colder, too; and the gusts of wind that came hurling along Strath Terry[#] struck down on the loch, spreading out like black fans, and driving the darkened water into curling crisp foam. It was a wild, changeable, blowy morning; sunlight and gloom intermingled; and ever the wind howled and moaned around the house, and the leafless trees outside bent and shivered before the wintry blast. [#] No doubt corrupted from _Strath Tairibh_, the Strath of the Bull. When the tall Highland lass brought in breakfast it appeared that the recusant gillie had not yet come down from Tongue; but it was no matter, she said; she would call Ronald. Now this exactly suited Mr. Hodson, who wanted to have some further speech with the young man—in view of certain far-reaching designs he had formed; and what better opportunity for talk than the placid trolling for salmon on the lake there? But courtesy demanded some small protest. ’I am afraid I cannot ask him a second day,’ he remarked.