A Warlike Chapter 5

As Yuill spoke the quick rub-a-dub of a drum
was heard.

«The soldiers!” Gavin let go his hold of
the old man, who hastened away to give himself
up.
“That’s no the sojers,” said a woman; “it’s
the folk gathering in the square. This’ll be a
watery Sabbath in Thrums.”

“Rob Dow,” shouted Gavin, as Dow flung
past with a scythe in his hand, “lay down that
scythe.”

“To hell wi’ religion!” Rob retorted, fiercely ;
“it spoils a’ thing.”

“Lay down that scythe; I command you.”

Rob stopped undecidedly, then cast the scythe
from him, but its rattle on the stones was more
than he could bear.

“T winna,” he cried, and, picking it up, ran to
the square.

An upper window in Bank Street opened, and
Doctor McQueen put out his head. He was
smoking as usual.

“Mr. Dishart,’ he said, “you will return
home at once if you are a wise man; or, better
still, come in here. You can do nothing with
these people to-night.”

“‘T can stop their fighting.”

“You will only make black blood between
them and you.”

“ Dinna heed him, Mr. Dishart,”’ cried some
women.

* © You had better heed him,” cried a man.
“*T will not desert my people,” Gavin said. -
“ Listen, then, to my prescription,” thé doctor