268 THE GOLD OF FAIRNILEE.

 

were bounding about close to the fire, and
sometimes in it, and were all mixed in the
smoke.

Jeanie was dreadfully frightened, too fright-
ened to scream.

Presently she heard the voices of men shout-
ing on the hill below her. The shouts and the
barking of dogs came nearer and nearer.

Then a dog ran up to her, and licked her
face, and jumped about her.

It was her own sheepdog, Yarrow.

He ran back to the men who were following
him, and came again with one of them.

It was old Simon Grieve, very tired, and so
much out of breath that he could scarcely
speak.

Jean was very glad to see him, and not
frightened any longer.

“Oh, Jeanie, my doo’,”’ said Simon, “ where
hae ye been? A muckle gliff ye hae gien us,
and a weary spiel up the weary braes.”

Jean told him all about it: how she had
come with Randal to see the Wishing Well,
and how she had lost him, and fallen asleep.

“And sic a nicht for you bairns to wander
on the hill,” said Simon. ‘It’s the nicht o’
St. John, when the guid folk hae power. And
there’s a’ the lads burning the Bel fires, and
driving the nowt * through them: nae less will
serve them. Sica nicht!”

* Nowt, cattle,