or are like to be when the brigade chaplain passes — if the Tories meddle not with his honest scalp! Come! Honest Euan, shall we make our rounds together? Or must I go alone?”

And she linked her arm in mine and put one foot forward, looking up at me with all the light mischief of the very boy she seemed in her soft rifle-dress and leggins, and the bright hair crisply curling ‘round her moleskin cap.

“Have a care of the trees, then, little minx,” I said.

“Pooh! Can you not see in the dark?”

“Can you?”

“Surely. When you and I went to the Spring Waiontha, I needed not your lantern light to guide me.”