Well, he was not afraid—on this occasion. It was announced from the chair that Mr. Ronald Strang, to whom they were already indebted, would favour the company with ’The MacGregors’ Gathering,’ accompanied by Mr. Jaap; and in the rattle of applause that followed this announcement, Ronald made his way across the floor and went up the couple of steps leading to the platform. Why he had consented he hardly knew, nor did he stay to ask. It was enough that he had to face this long hall, and its groups of faces seen through the pale haze of the tobacco smoke; and then the first notes of the piano startled him into the necessity of getting into the same key. He began—a little bewildered, perhaps, and hearing his own voice too consciously— _’The moon’s on the lake, and the mist’s on the brae,_ _And the clan has a name that is nameless by day.’_ ’Louder, man, louder!’ the accompanist muttered, under his breath. Whether it was this admonition, or whether it was that he gained confidence from feeling himself in harmony with the firm-struck notes of the accompaniment, his voice rose in clearness and courage, and he got through the first verse with very fair success. Nay, when he came to the second, and the music went into a pathetic minor, the sensitiveness of his ear still carried him through bravely— _’Glenorchy’s proud mountains, Colchurn and her towers,_ _Glenstrae and Glen Lyon no longer are ours—_ _We’re landless, landless, landless, Gregalach.’_ All this was very well done; for he began to forget his audience a little, and to put into his singing something of the expression that had come naturally enough to him when he was away on the Clebrig slopes or wandering along Strath-Terry. As for the audience—when he had finished and stepped back to his seat—they seemed quite electrified. Not often had such a clear-ringing voice penetrated that murky atmosphere. But nothing would induce Ronald to repeat the performance. ’What made me do it?’ he kept asking himself. ’What made me do it? Bless me, surely I’m no fou’?’ ’Ye’ve got a most extraordinarily fine voice, Mr. Strang,’ the chairman said, in his most complaisant manner, ’I hope it’s not the last time ye’ll favour us.’ Ronald did not answer this. He seemed at once moody and restless. Presently he said— ’Come away, lads, come away. In God’s name let’s get a breath o’ fresh air—the smoke o’ this place is like the bottomless pit.’ ’Then let’s gang down and have a chat wi’ Kate Menzies,’ said Jimmy Laidlaw at once. ’Ye’re after that supper, Jimmy!’ the big skipper said facetiously. ’What for no? Would ye disappoint the woman; and her sae anxious to hear what happened to Strang’s poetry? Come on, Ronald—she’ll be as proud as Punch. And we’ll tell her about "The MacGregors’ Gathering"’—she said East Lothian would show them something.’ ’Very well, then—very well; anything to get out o’ here,’ Ronald said; and away they all went down to the tavern.