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homeward. We

crossed a largely deforested, covered with
rank vegetation and patches of
cultivation.
But Sikhim has
no better cultivated hillside
than the slope from the Ringbi
to Pamionchi. It was after
dark when three battered and
disreputable travellers stum-
bled up to the Pamionchi rest-
house. It was occupied by four
startlingly civilised and well-
groomed people who were mak-
ing the usual leisurely round.
They were tolerant, and hospit-
ably offered us the dining-room
to sleep in. But we felt that our
place was without, amongst the
dogs and coolies. At dawn we
arose and crept silently away.
At Pul Bazar in the valley
ponies from Darjeeling met us,
and in luxurious ease we did
the steep double march to
Chakun. The valleys smiled
in sunlight under blue skies
and fleecy clouds, but looking
back we could see that our old
haunts above 13,000 feet were
still wrapped in mist. The
march ended in the usual
downpour. Fortunately the
rest-house at Chakun was un-
occupied, and we were free to
deal painfully with our hirsute
and tender faces.
Next even-
ing we lounged before a fire
in the Darjeeling Club, con-
scious of a civilised meal and
a hot bath and clean clothes,
and filled with a great content.
W. H. BUCHAN.

stream and came on some huts where children were playing on the grass. A little temple crowned a slope on the right, and in front, 1000 feet above, perched the Dubdi monastery. Beyond a belt of trees we came upon the Kazi's house, where we were hospitably received and regaled with marwa beer. A room of bare boards was given us, and, after a fortnight of congested canvas, we found it all that is spacious and comfortable. The little settlement lay steeped in the evening light; only homely sounds broke the stillness; there was an atmosphere of security and peace and human intercourse and things familiar. Civilisation at that moment seemed very good in our eyes. From Yoksun to the ways of tourists is a longish and a tiring day's march. There are two steep descents to the lower Rathong and the Ringbi Chu, and two equally steep and longer climbs. At 17,000 feet we had felt no distress and no touch of mountain-sickness. Possibly a fortnight spent above 12,000 feet had acclimatised us and unfitted us for lower heights, for these relentless ascents from 3000 to 5000 feet in soft moist heat produced an unusual feeling of strain. The country is nondescript at first,

THE RIDING OF NINE MILEBURN.

BY JOHN BUCHAN.

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SIM bent over the meal ark and plumbed its contents with his fist. Two feet and more remained : provender with care for a month, till he harvested the waterside corn and ground it at Ashkirk mill. He straightened his back, better pleased; but, as he moved, the fine dust flew into his throat and set him coughing. He choked back the sound till his face crimsoned.

But the mischief was done. A woman's voice, thin and weary, came from the benend.

"The bairn 'ill be gone ere ye ken, Sim," she said wearily. "He canna live without milk, and I've nane to gie him. Get the coo back or lose the

son I bore ye. If I were my ordinar' I wad hae't in the byre, though I had to kindle Ninemileburn ower Wat's heid."

She turned miserably on her pillow, and the babe beside her set

up a feeble crying. Sim busied himself with re-lighting the peat fire. He knew too well that he would never see the milk-cow till he took with him the price of his debt or gave a bond on harvested crops. He had had a bad lambing, and the wet summer had soured his shallow lands. The cess

The long man tiptoed awkwardly to her side. "Canny, lass," he crooned. "It's me back frae the hill. There's a mune and a clear sky, and I'll hae the lave under thack to Branksome was due, and and rape the morn. Syne I'm for Ninemileburn, and the coo 'ill be i' the byre by Setterday. Things micht be waur, and we'll warstle through yet. There was mair tint at Flodden."

The last rays of October daylight that filtered through

the straw lattice showed a woman's head on the pillow. The face was white and drawn, and the great black eyes-she had been an Oliver out of Megget-were fixed in the long stare of pain. Her voice had the high lilt and the deep undertones of the Forest.

he had had no means to pay it. His father's cousin of the Ninemileburn was a brawling fellow, who never lacked beast in byre or corn in bin, and to him he had gone for the loan. But Wat was a hard man, and demanded surety; so the one cow had travelled the six moorland miles and would not return till the bond was cancelled. As well might he try to get water from stone as move Wat by any tale of a sick wife and dying child.

The peat smoke got into his throat and brought on 8 fresh fit of coughing. The

wet year had played havoc
with his chest, and his lean
shoulders shook with the
paroxysms.
An anxious look
at the bed told him that
Marion was drowsing, so he
slipped to the door.

Outside, as he had said, the sky was clear. From the plashy hillside came the rumour of swollen burns. Then he was aware of a man's voice shouting.

66

'Sim," it cried, "Sim o' the Cleuch. Sim." A sturdy figure came down through the serog of hazel and revealed itself as his neighbour of the Dodhead. Jamie Telfer lived five miles off in Ettrick, but his was the next house to the Cleuch sheiling.

bestial's heavy wark to drive. They shut up Wat in the auld peel, and he didna win free. till bye mid-day. Syne he was off to Branksome, and the word frae Branksome is to raise a' Ettrick, Teviotdale, Ale Water, and the Muirs o' Esk. We look to win up wi' the lads long ere they cross Liddell, and that at the speed they gang will be gey an' near sunrise. It's a braw mune for the job."

Jamie Telfer lay on his face by the burn and lapped up water like a dog. Then without another word he trotted off across the hillside beyond which lay the Ranklehope.

Sim had a fit of coughing and looked stupidly at the Telfer was running, and his sky. Here was the last round red face shone with straw. He was dog - tired, sweat. "Dod, man Sim, for he had had little sleep ye're hard o' hearin'. I was the past week. There was routin' like to wake the deid, no one to leave with Marion, and ye never turned your and Marion was too weak to neck. It's the fray I bring tend herself. The word was ye. Mount and ride to the from Branksome, and at anCarewoodrig. The word's frae other time Branksome was to Branksome. I've but Rankle- be obeyed. But now the hope to raise, and then me thing was past reason. What and William's Tam will be use was there for a miserable on the road to join ye." careworn man to ride among the swank, well-fed lads in the Bewcastle chase?

"Whatna fray?" Sim asked blankly.

"Ninemileburn. Bewcastle's marching. They riped the place at cockcrow, and took twenty-six kye, five horse, and a walth o' plenishing. They were seen fordin' Teviot at ten afore noon, but they're gaun round by Ewes Water, for they durstna try the Hermitage Slack. Forbye they move slow, for

the

And then he remembered his cow. She would be hirpling with the rest of the Ninemileburn beasts on the road to the Border. The case was more desperate than he had thought. She was gone for ever unless he helped Wat to win her back. And if she went, where was the milk for the child?

He stared hopelessly up at

a darkening sky. Then he dwelled long ago and the

went to the lean-to where his horse was stalled. The beast was fresh, for it had not been out for two days-a rough Forest shelty, with shaggy fetlocks and a mane like a thicket. Sim set his old saddle on it and went back to the house.

His wife was still asleep, breathing painfully. He put water on the fire to boil, and fetched a handful of meal from the ark. With this he made a dish of gruel, and set it by the bedside. He drew a pitcher of water from the well, for she might be thirsty. Then he banked up the fire and steeked the window. When she woke she would find food and drink, and he would be back before the next darkening. He dared not look at the child. The shelty shied at a line of firelight from the window as Sim flung himself wearily on its back. He had got his long ash spear from its place among the rafters and donned his leather jacket with the iron studs on breast and shoulder. One of the seams gaped. His wife had been mending it when her pains took her.

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Devil still came in the small hours. But now he was too full of his cares to have room for dread. With his head on his breast he let the shelty take its own road through the mosses.

But on the Caerlanrig he came on a troop of horse. They were a lusty crowd, well mounted and armed, with iron basnets and corselets that jingled as they rode. Harden's men, he guessed, with young Harden at the head of them. They cried him greeting as he fell in at the tail. "It's Long Sim o' the Cleuch," one said; "he's sib to Wat or he wadna be here. Sim likes his ain fireside better than the 'Bateable Land."

The companionship of others cheered him. There had been a time, before he brought Marion from Megget, when he was a well-kenned figure on the Borders, a good man at weaponshows, and & fierce fighter when his blood was up. Those days were long gone; but the gusto of them returned. No man had ever lightlied him without paying scot. He held up his head and forgot his cares and his gaping jacket. In a little they had topped the hill and were looking down on the young waters of Ewes.

The company grew, as men dropped in from left and right. Sim recognised the wild hair of Charlie of Geddinscleuch and the square shoulders of Adam of Frodslaw. They passed Mosspaul, a twinkle far down in the glen, and presently came to the long green slope which

is called the Carewoodrig, and which makes a pass from Ewes to Hermitage. To Sim it seemed that an army had encamped on it. Fires had been lit in a howe, and wearied men slept by them. By one fire stood the great figure of Wat o' the Ninemileburn, blaspheming to the skies and counting his losses. He had girded on a long sword, and for better precaution had slung an axe on his back. At the sight of young Harden he held his peace. The foray was Branksome's and a Scott must

lead.

Dimly and stupidly, for he was very weary, Sim heard word of the enemy. The beasts had travelled slow, and would not cross Liddell till sunrise. Now they were high up on Tarras water, making for Liddell at a ford below the Castletown. There had been no time to warn the Elliots, but the odds were that Lariston and Mangerton would be out by morning.

"Never heed the Elliots," cried young Harden. "We can redd our ain frays, lads. Haste and ride, and we'll hae Geordie Musgrave long ere he wins to the Ritterford. Borrowstonemoss is the bit for us,' and with a light Scott laugh he was in the saddle.

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They were now in a land of low marshy hills which made ill-going. A companion gave Sim the news. Bewcastle had five-score men and the Scots fourscore and three. "It's waur to haud than to win," said the man. "Ae man can take ten beasts when three 'ill no keep

them. There'll be bluidy war on Tarras side ere the nicht's dune."

Sim was feeling his weariness too sore for speech. He remembered that he had tasted no food for fifteen hours. He found his meal-poke and filled his mouth, but the stuff choked him. It only made him cough. fiercely, so that Wat o' the Ninemileburn, riding riding before him, cursed him for a brokenwinded fool. Also he was remembering about Marion, lying sick in the darkness twenty miles over the hills.

The moon was clouded, for an east wind was springing up. It was ill riding on the braeface, and Sim and his shelty floundered among the screes. He was wondering how long it would all last. Soon he must fall down and be the scorn of the Border men. The thought put Marion out of his head again. He set his mind on tending his horse and keeping up with his fellows.

Suddenly a whistle from Harden halted the company. A man came running back from the crown of the rig. A whisper went about that Bewcastle was on the far side, in the little glen called the Brunt Burn. The men held their breath, and in the stillness they heard far off the sound. of hooves on stones and the heavy breathing of cattle.

It was a noble spot for an ambuscade. The Borderers scattered over the hillside, some riding south to hold the convoy as it came down the glen. Sim's weariness lightened. His blood ran quicker; he remem

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