She took up her bundle of herbs.

"Hoot, Glenfernie! do ye think that's your soul's desire ?" Jock came limping around the house.

Alexander could not now abide the sight of this cripple who had spied, and had not shot some fashion of arrow! He said good-by and loosed Black Alan from the ash-tree and rode away.

He would not tread the glen.

His memory recoiled from it as from some Eastern glen of serpents.