Their landlord ushered them in person to a sort of sleeping gallery, in which there was a four-post bed, with tartan curtains, and a number of cribs, or long hampers, placed along the wall, three of which, well stuffed with blooming heather, were prepared for the reception of guests.

“I need not tell your lordship,” said M’Aulay to Lord Menteith, a little apart, “our Highland mode of quartering.  Only that, not liking you should sleep in the room alone with this German land-louper, I have caused your servants’ beds to be made here in the gallery.  By G—­d, my lord, these are times when men go to bed with a throat hale and sound as ever swallowed brandy, and before next morning it may be gaping like an oyster-shell.”

Lord Menteith thanked him sincerely, saying, “It was just the arrangement he would have requested; for, although he had not the least apprehension of violence from Captain Dalgetty, yet Anderson was a better kind of person, a sort of gentleman, whom he always liked to have near his person.”

“I have not seen this Anderson,” said M’Aulay; “did you hire him in England?”

“I did so,” said Lord Menteith; “you will see the man to-morrow; in the meantime I wish you good-night.”

His host left the apartment after the evening salutation, and was about to pay the same compliment to Captain Dalgetty, but observing him deeply engaged in the discussion of a huge pitcher filled with brandy posset, he thought it a pity to disturb him in so laudable an employment, and took his leave without farther ceremony.

Lord Menteith’s two attendants entered the apartment almost immediately after his departure.  The good Captain, who was now somewhat encumbered with his good cheer, began to find the undoing of the clasps of his armour a task somewhat difficult, and addressed Anderson in these words, interrupted by a slight hiccup,—­“Anderson, my good friend, you may read in Scripture, that he that putteth off his armour should not boast himself like he that putteth it on—­I believe that is not the right word of command; but the plain truth of it is, I am like to sleep in my corslet, like many an honest fellow that never waked again, unless you unloose this buckle.”

“Undo his armour, Sibbald,” said Anderson to the other servant.

“By St. Andrew!” exclaimed the Captain, turning round in great astonishment, “here’s a common fellow—­a stipendiary with four pounds a-year and a livery cloak, thinks himself too good to serve Ritt-master Dugald Dalgetty of Drumthwacket, who has studied humanity at the Mareschal-College of Aberdeen, and served half the princes of Europe!”

“Captain Dalgetty,” said Lord Menteith, whose lot it was to stand peacemaker throughout the evening, “please to understand that Anderson waits upon no one but myself; but I will help Sibbald to undo your corslet with much pleasure.”

“Too much trouble for you, my lord,” said Dalgetty; “and yet it would do you no harm to practise how a handsome harness is put on and put off.  I can step in and out of mine like a glove; only to-night, although not EBRIUS, I am, in the classic phrase, vino CIBOQUE GRAVATUS.”