“I must own,” said Aramis, “I am like the Comte de la Fere — I can see nothing remarkable about it.”

“My lord,” said Athos, “in a position so precarious as ours we must examine the earth and not the heavens.

Have you studied our Scotch troops and have you confidence in them?”

“The Scotch?” inquired Winter. “What Scotch?”

“Ours, egad!” exclaimed Athos. “Those in whom the king has confided — Lord Leven’s Highlanders.”

“No,” said Winter, then he paused; “but tell me, can you not perceive the russet tint which marks the heavens?”