Now these fine natives came along, singing, for their very lives, a song the like of which set down here would oust my book from modest people, and make everybody say, “this man never can have loved Lorna.”  Therefore, the less of that the better; only I thought, “what a difference from the goodly psalms of the ale house!”

Having finished their canticle, which contained more mirth than melody, they drew themselves up, in a sort of way supposed by them to be military, each man with heel and elbow struck into those of his neighbour, and saluted the King’s Commissioner.  “Why, where are your officers?” asked Master Stickles; “how is it that you have no officers?” Upon this there arose a general grin, and a knowing look passed along their faces, even up to the man by the gatepost.  “Are you going to tell me, or not,” said Jeremy, “what is become of your officers?”

“Plaise zur,” said one little fellow at last, being nodded at by the rest to speak, in right of his known eloquence; “hus tould Harfizers, as a wor no nade of un, now King’s man hiszell wor coom, a puppose vor to command us laike.”

“And do you mean to say, you villains,” cried Jeremy, scarce knowing whether to laugh, or to swear, or what to do; “that your officers took their dismissal thus, and let you come on without them?”

“What could ’em do?” asked the little man, with reason certainly on his side:  “hus zent ’em about their business, and they was glad enough to goo.”

“Well!” said poor Jeremy, turning to me; “a pretty state of things, John!  Threescore cobblers, and farming men, plasterers, tailors, and kettles-to-mend; and not a man to keep order among them, except my blessed self, John!  And I trow there is not one among them could hit all in-door flying.  The Doones will make riddles of all of us.”

However, he had better hopes when the sons of Devon appeared, as they did in about an hour’s time; fine fellows, and eager to prove themselves.  These had not discarded their officers, but marched in good obedience to them, and were quite prepared to fight the men of Somerset (if need be) in addition to the Doones.  And there was scarcely a man among them but could have trounced three of the yellow men, and would have done it gladly too, in honour of the red facings.

“Do you mean to suppose, Master Jeremy Stickles,” said I, looking on with amazement, beholding also all our maidens at the upstair windows wondering; “that we, my mother a widow woman, and I a young man of small estate, can keep and support all these precious fellows, both yellow ones, and red ones, until they have taken the Doone Glen?”

“God forbid it, my son!” he replied, laying a finger upon his lip:  “Nay, nay, I am not of the shabby order, when I have the strings of government.  Kill your sheep at famine prices, and knead your bread at a figure expressing the rigours of last winter.  Let Annie make out the bill every day, and I at night will double it.  You may take my word for it, Master John, this spring-harvest shall bring you in three times as much as last autumn’s did.  If they cheated you in town, my lad, you shall have your change in the country.  Take thy bill, and write down quickly.”