Peter Lauchie further explained that all Pat Murphy's crew were nothing but Fenians. He pronounced the evil word in a whisper, and added in a more sepulchral tone that the Caldwell boys and a lot more Irish from the Flats, yes, and "Hoak" Tucker's people, too, were Orangemen. These terrible disclosures filled Scotty with vague alarm; for, though he strove to keep his companionship a secret, there could be no doubt that most of his time at school was spent in the very pleasant company of Danny Murphy and "Hash" Tucker; and furthermore that, since the day she had saved him from old McAllister's clutches, Nancy Caldwell had been the bright, particular star of his existence. He had no doubt that Nancy returned his devotion, either; for she brought him big lumps of maple sugar and the rosiest apples, and was always anxious that he should share her cake. Of course, she was apt to exact payment for these favours, and would chase him all over the school and kiss him in spite of his fiercest struggles. But, nevertheless, Nancy held his heart. Surely she could not be anything very wicked. Fenians he knew something about; the Fenian Raids had been talked of in his home ever since he could remember. Orangemen might not be quite so bad. He made up his mind he would ask Hamish all about it. There was quite a little circle of friends about the fire that evening; Long Lauchie MacDonald and three of his grown-up sons had come over for a chat, and of course Weaver Jimmie was there, having been turned out of Kirsty John's house at the point of the potato masher. Like most of the Highlanders, Long Lauchie was aptly described by his name. He was a tall, thin, attenuated man. Everything about him seemed to run to a point and vanish; his long, thin hands, his flimsy pointed beard, even his long nose and ears helped out his character. He rarely indulged in conversation, coming out of an habitual reverie only occasionally to make a remark. Nevertheless he was of a sociable turn and was often seen at Big Malcolm's fireside. The company sat round in a comfortable, hump-backed circle, emitting clouds of smoke and discussing the affairs of the Empire; for these men's affections were still set on the old land, and that which touched Britain was vital to them. Then Old Farquhar started upon a tale, so long and rambling that Rory took his fiddle and strummed impatiently in the background. Scotty understood enough of Gaelic to gather that it was the story of a beautiful maiden who had died that night when her father and brother and lover lay slain in the bloody massacre of Glencoe. Impatient of the high-flown Gaelic phrases, Scotty flew to Hamish, and his indulgent chum put aside the book and told him the story, and why the MacDonalds hated the name of Orange. Scotty went back to the fire, his cheeks aflame with excitement. Hereafter he would fight everything and anything remotely connected with the name of Orange. See if he wouldn't!