Part 6 (2/2)

”The Orangemen 'll kape Canada!” cried Tom Caldwell rea.s.suringly.

”Hoh, him an' his 'kape Canada,'” cried Callum Fiach in disgust, as he pitched himself into the sleigh. ”Let's get out o' this!”

”Eh, eh!” cried Store Thompson, standing in the doorway to see them depart, ”ye MacDonalds are aye too ready wi' the neeves!”

Big Malcolm took the reins and drove away without another word. The joy of battle was always succeeded by a season of depression. His old friend's reproof had already begun to work repentance in his breast.

The homeward drive was silent and gloomy. Even Callum forbore to talk; for he was uncomfortably conscious that he had had more to do with setting the Orangemen and the Catholics against each other than he would like Big Malcolm to know. He had not foreseen that all the MacDonalds would plunge into it, and his father with them, and was rather uneasy at the havoc he had caused. For this would bring sorrow upon the mother at home.

But Scotty could not be silent, he was alive with curiosity; and, taking advantage of his grandfather's gloomy absorption, he crept out from between the two on the front seat, and got close to the source of all knowledge, Hamish.

He overflowed with questions. Why should the MacDonalds be helping Orangemen? And hadn't Hash Tucker's father and a lot more from the Tenth been on their side, too? And how in the name of all nationalities did it happen that the Caldwells and the Tuckers came to be fighting together against the Murphys? And weren't Orangemen far worse than Fenians, anyway?

The confusion in Scotty's mind was like that which befell the builders of the Tower of Babel; and for once Hamish failed to satisfy him. He seemed rather ashamed of the fact that they had helped a Caldwell in battle, and was rather inclined to drop the subject.

That evening at home was something new to Scotty. A gloomy silence pervaded the place, and there was a look in Granny's eyes that made the boy want to put his head into her lap and cry. There were no prayers before they retired, either; there always came a stage in Big Malcolm's repentence which consisted almost entirely of religious exercises, but that was not yet.

Scotty felt vaguely that there was something terribly wrong, for the boys, even Hamish, went off after supper, and Old Farquhar did not sing his accustomed song before retiring. And when Scotty went up to bed in the loft he left Granny praying by the bed in the corner, and he could hear the steady tramp, tramp of his grandfather's feet up and down in the snow outside. He half woke late in the night and found that Hamish was beside him; the problems of the day were still troubling his dreams.

”Hamish,” he whispered, ”where's Cape Canady?”

”What?” growled Hamish sleepily.

”Where's Cape Canady? Tom Caldwell said somethin' about it, an' the Master learned the Fourth Cla.s.s all about capes yesterday, an' he wouldn't be saying anything about that one!”

But Hamish was snoring; and outside the steady tramp, tramp of feet went up and down in the snow.

V

THE REFORMATION

O strong hearts, guarding the birthright of our glory, Worth your best blood this heritage that ye guard!

These mighty streams resplendent with our story, These iron coasts by rage of seas unjarred-- What fields of peace these bulwarks will secure!

What vales of plenty these calm floods supply!

Shall not our love this rough, sweet land make sure, Her bounds preserve inviolate, though we die?

--C. G. D. ROBERTS.

The fathers of the Scottish settlement were gathered about the stove in Store Thompson's shop. This emporium was a respectable rival of Pete Nash's tavern across the way. Anyone, weary of the noise and wrangling which characterised that lively establishment, might step across to Store Thompson's haven and find rest and quiet, a never-failing hospitality and a much better social atmosphere. To-night the company represented the best the settlement could produce, several of the MacDonalds and a few of the inhabitants of the Glen.

Big Malcolm was among them. It was his first visit to the Glen since the day of his disgrace, and he had not yet quite recovered his old genial spirits.

One small lamp burned dimly on the counter and the forms of boxes and barrels loomed up fantastically in shadowy corners. In the circle about the stove the men's faces shone out spectrally from the cloud of smoke produced by some half-dozen pipes.

As usual, Store Thompson was taking the lead in the conversation. He stood leaning over the counter in the little ring of light, his spectacles pushed up on his benign-looking forehead, his finger-tips brought carefully together. In company with the schoolmaster, Store Thompson had begun his winter's course of reading and was more than usually oratorical.

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