“And Lochiel has twa hunder spearsmen.”

“Do you say so?”

“Young Kinnordy’s ettling to come out, and I meet Lord Airlie, when the moon rises, at the Loups o’ Kenny, and auld Bradwardine’s as spunky as ever, and there’s fifty wild Highlandmen lying ready in the muckle cave of Clova.”

He spoke so earnestly that Corp could only ejaculate, “Michty me!”

“But of course they winna rise,” continued Tommy, darkly, “till he lands.”

“Of course no,” said Corp, “but—­wha is he?”

“Himsel’,” whispered Tommy, “the Chevalier!”

Corp hesitated.  “But, I thought,” he said diffidently, “I thought you—­”

“So I am,” said Tommy.

“But you said he hadna landed yet?”

“Neither he has.”

“But you—­”

“Well?”

“You’re here, are you no?”

Tommy stamped his foot in irritation.  “You’re slow in the uptak,” he said.  “I’m no here.  How can I be here when I’m at St. Germains?”

“Dinna be angry wi’ me,” Corp begged.  “I ken you’re ower the water, but when I see you, I kind of forget; and just for the minute I think you’re here.”

“Well, think afore you speak.”

“I’ll try, but that’s teuch work.  When do you come to Scotland?”

“I’m no sure; but as soon as I’m ripe.”

At nights Tommy now sometimes lay among the cabbages of the school-house watching the shadow of Black Cathro on his sitting-room blind.  Cathro never knew he was there.  The reason Tommy lay among the cabbages was that there was a price upon his head.

“But if Black Cathro wanted to get the blood-money,” Corp said apologetically, “he could nab you any day.  He kens you fine.”

Tommy smiled meaningly.  “Not him,” he answered, “I’ve cheated him bonny, he hasna a notion wha I am.  Corp, would you like a good laugh?”

“That I would.”

“Weel, then, I’ll tell you wha he thinks I am.  Do you ken a little house yont the road a bitty irae Monypenny?”

“I ken no sic house,” said Corp, “except Aaron’s.”

“Aaron’s the man as bides in it,” Tommy continued hastily, “at least I think that’s the name.  Well, as you ken the house, you’ve maybe noticed a laddie that bides there too?”

“There’s no laddie,” began Corp, “except—­”

“Let me see,” interrupted Tommy, “what was his name?  Was it Peter?  No.  Was it Willie?  Stop, I mind, it was Tommy.”

He glared so that Corp dared not utter a word.

“Have you notitched him?”

“I’ve—­I’ve seen him,” Corp gasped.

“Well, this is the joke,” said Tommy, trying vainly to restrain his mirth, “Cathro thinks I’m that laddie!  Ho! ho! ho!”

Corp scratched his head, then he bit his warts, then he spat upon his hands, then he said “Damn.”