“They in the Lord that firmly trust,
    Shall be like Zion hill”—­

and sung to the high quavering strains of “Coleshill,” garnished with endless quavers and grace-notes.

The chapter was then read with a simple trust and manfulness like that of an ancient patriarch.  Once at this portion of the service the most terrible thing that ever happened at Drumquhat took place.  Walter had gone to school during the past year, and had been placed in the “sixpenny”; but he had promptly “trapped” his way to the head of the class, and so into the more noble “tenpenny,” which he entered before he was six.  The operation of “trapping” was simply performed.  When a mistake was made in pronunciation, repetition, or spelling, any pupil further down the class held out his hand, snapping the finger and thumb like a pop-gun Nordenfeldt.  The master’s pointer skimmed rapidly down the line, and if no one in higher position answered, the “trapper,” providing always that his emendation was accepted, was instantly promoted to the place of the “trapped.”  The master’s “taws” were a wholesome deterrent of persistent or mistaken trapping; and, in addition, the trapped boys sometimes rectified matters at the back of the school at the play-hour, when fists became a high court of appeal and review.

Walter had many fights—­“Can ye fecht?” being the recognised greeting to the new comer at Whinnyliggate school.  When this was asked of Walter, he replied modestly that he did not know, whereupon his enemy, without provocation, smote him incontinently on the nose.  Him our boy-from-the-heather promptly charged, literally with tooth and nail, overbore to the dust, and, when he held him there, proceeded summarily to disable him for further conflict, as he had often seen Royal do when that mild dog went forth to war.  Walter could not at all understand why he was dragged off his assailant by the assembled school, and soundly cuffed for a young savage who fought like the beasts.  Wattie knew in his heart that this objection was unreasonable, for whom else had he seen fight besides the beasts?  But in due time he learned to fight legitimately enough, and to take his share of the honours of war.  Moreover, the reputation of a reserve of savagery did him no harm, and induced many an elder boy who had been “trapped” to forego the pleasure of “warming him after the schule comes oot,” which was the formal challenge of Whinnyliggate chivalry.

But this Sabbath morning at the “buik,” when the solemnity of the week had culminated, and the portion was being read, Walter detected a quaint antiquity in the pronunciation of a Bible name.  His hand shot out, cracking like a pistol, and, while the family waited for the heavens to fall, Walter boldly “trapped” the priest of the household at his own family altar!

Saunders M’Quhirr stopped, and darted one sharp, severe glance at the boy’s eager face.  But even as he looked, his face mellowed into what his son Alec to this day thinks may have been the ghost of a smile.  But this he mentions to no one, for, after all, Saunders is his father.