On the morning of the day before the Twelfth his books did not get much attention. He kept going to the window to watch the arrivals at the railway station opposite, wondering whether this one or that was off and away to the wide moors and the hills. Then, about mid-day, he saw a young lad bring up four dogs—a brace of setters, a small spaniel, and a big brown retriever—and give them over in charge to a porter. Well, human nature could not stand this any longer. His books were no longer thought of; on went his Glengarry cap; and in a couple of minutes he was across the road and into the station, where the porter was hauling the dogs along the platform. ’Here, my man, I’ll manage the doggies for ye,’ he said, getting hold of the chains and straps; and of course the dogs at once recognised in him a natural ally and were less alarmed. A shambling, bow-legged porter hauling at them they could not understand at all; but in the straight figure and sun-tanned cheek and clear eye of the newcomer they recognised features familiar to them; and then he spoke to them as if he knew them. ’Ay, and what’s your name, then?—Bruce, or Wallace, or Soldier?—but there’ll no be much work for you for a while yet. It’s you, you two bonnie lassies, that’ll be amongst the heather the morn; and well I can see ye’ll work together, and back each other, and just set an example to human folk. And if ye show yourselves just a wee bit eager at the beginning o’ the day—well, well, well, we all have our faults, and that one soon wears off. And what’s your names, then?—Lufra, or Nell, or Bess, or Fan? And you, you wise auld chiel—I’m thinking ye could get a grip o’ a mallard that would make him imagine he had got back into his mother’s nest—you’re a wise one—the Free Kirk elder o’ the lot’—for, indeed, the rest of them were all pawing at him, and licking his hands, and whimpering their friendship. The porter had to point out to him that he, the porter, could not stand there the whole day with ’a wheen dogs;’ whereupon Ronald led these new companions of his along to the dog-box that had been provided for them, and there, when they had been properly secured, the porter left him. Ronald could still talk to them however, and ask them questions; and they seemed to understand well enough: indeed, he had not spent so pleasant a half-hour for many and many a day. There chanced to come along the platform a little, wiry, elderly man, with a wholesome-looking weather-tanned face, who was carrying a bundle of fishing-rods over his shoulder; and seeing how Ronald was engaged he spoke to him in passing and began to talk about the dogs. ’Perhaps they’re your dogs?’ Ronald said. ’No, no, our folk are a’ fishing folk,’ said the little old man, who was probably a gardener or something of the kind, and who seemed to take readily to this new acquaintance. ’I’ve just been in to Glasgow to get a rod mended, and to bring out a new one that the laird has bought for himself.’