It was, perhaps, fortunate to the design of the Rev. Mr. Woods, that neither the captain nor the serjeant was in the way, to arrest it.  This the former would certainly have done, out of regard to his friend, and the last out of regard to “orders.”  But these military personages were in the library, in deep consultation concerning the next step necessary to take.  This left the coast clear, no one belonging to the guard conceiving himself of sufficient authority to stop the chaplain, more especially when he appeared in his wig and surplice.  Jamie Allen was a corporal, by courtesy; and, at the first summons, he caused the outer gate to be unlocked and unbarred, permitting the chaplain to make his egress, attended by his own respectful bows.  This Jamie did, out of reverence to religion, generally; though the surplice ever excited his disgust; and, as for the Liturgy, he deemed it to be a species of solemn mockery of worship.

The captain did not reappear outside of the court, until the chaplain, who had made the best of his way towards the rocks, was actually stalking like a ghost among ruins, through the deserted shantees of the late encampment.

“What in the name of Indian artifice is the white animal that I see moving about on the rocks?” demanded the captain, whose look was first turned in the direction of the camp.

“It seems an Indian wrapped up in a shirt, your honour—­as I live, sir, it has a cocked hat on its head!”

“Na—­na”—­interrupted Jamie, “ye’ll no be guessing the truth this time, without the aid of a little profane revelation.  The chiel ye see yan, yer honour, is just chaplain Woods.”

“Woods—­the devil!”

“Na—­na—­yer honour, it’s the reverend gentleman, hissel’, and no the de’il, at a’.  He’s in his white frock—­though why he didn’t wear his black gairment is more than I can tell ye—­but there he is, walking about amang the Indian dwellings, all the same as if they were so many pews in his ain kirk.”

“And, how came you to let him pass the gate, against orders?”

“Well, and it is aboot the orders of the priesthood, that he so often preaches, and seeing him in the white gairment, and knowing ye’ve so many fast-days, and Christmas’, in the kirk o’ England, I fancied it might be a bit matter o’ prayer he wished to offer up, yan, in the house on the flat; and so I e’en thought church prayers better than no prayers at all, in such a strait.”

As it was useless to complain, the captain was fain to submit, even beginning to hope some good might come of the adventure, when he saw Mr. Woods walking unmolested through the deserted camp.  The glass was levelled, and the result was watched in intense interest.