The promised ham and eggs proved impossible—­there were no eggs to be had in Muirtown that night—­but I was given cold mutton and a pint of indifferent ale.  There was nobody in the place but two farmers drinking hot whisky and water and discussing with sombre interest the rise in the price of feeding-stuffs.  I ate my supper, and was just preparing to find the whereabouts of my bedroom when through the street door there entered a dozen soldiers.

In a second the quiet place became a babel.  The men were strictly sober; but they were in that temper of friendliness which demands a libation of some kind.  One was prepared to stand treat; he was the leader of the lot, and it was to celebrate the end of his leave that he was entertaining his pals.  From where I sat I could not see him, but his voice was dominant.  ’What’s your fancy, jock?  Beer for you, Andra?  A pint and a dram for me.  This is better than vongblong and vongrooge, Davie.  Man, when I’m sittin’ in those estamints, as they ca’ them, I often long for a guid Scots public.’

The voice was familiar.  I shifted my seat to get a view of the speaker, and then I hastily drew back.  It was the Scots Fusilier I had clipped on the jaw in defending Gresson after the Glasgow meeting.

But by a strange fatality he had caught sight of me.

‘Whae’s that i’ the corner?’ he cried, leaving the bar to stare at me.  Now it is a queer thing, but if you have once fought with a man, though only for a few seconds, you remember his face, and the scrap in Glasgow had been under a lamp.  The jock recognized me well enough.

‘By God!’ he cried, ‘if this is no a bit o’ luck!  Boys, here’s the man I feucht wi’ in Glesca.  Ye mind I telled ye about it.  He laid me oot, and it’s my turn to do the same wi’ him.  I had a notion I was gaun to mak’ a nicht o’t.  There’s naebody can hit Geordie Hamilton without Geordie gettin’ his ain back some day.  Get up, man, for I’m gaun to knock the heid off ye.’

I duly got up, and with the best composure I could muster looked him in the face.

’You’re mistaken, my friend.  I never clapped eyes on you before, and I never was in Glasgow in my life.’

‘That’s a damned lee,’ said the Fusilier.  ’Ye’re the man, and if ye’re no, ye’re like enough him to need a hidin’!’

‘Confound your nonsense!’ I said.  ’I’ve no quarrel with you, and I’ve better things to do than be scrapping with a stranger in a public-house.’

’Have ye sae?  Well, I’ll learn ye better.  I’m gaun to hit ye, and then ye’ll hae to fecht whether ye want it or no.  Tam, haud my jacket, and see that my drink’s no skailed.’

This was an infernal nuisance, for a row here would bring in the police, and my dubious position would be laid bare.  I thought of putting up a fight, for I was certain I could lay out the jock a second time, but the worst of that was that I did not know where the thing would end.  I might have to fight the lot of them, and that meant a noble public shindy.  I did my best to speak my opponent fair.  I said we were all good friends and offered to stand drinks for the party.  But the Fusilier’s blood was up and he was spoiling for a row, ably abetted by his comrades.  He had his tunic off now and was stamping in front of me with doubled fists.