"And what news is there from Ian?" asked an old man of his chief.
"Not much news yet, but I hope for more soon. It will be so easy to let you hear all his letters, when we can meet any moment in the barn!"
"I fear he will be wanting us all to go after the rest!" said one of the women.
"There might be a worse thing!" answered her neighbour.
"A worse thing than leave the hills where we were born?—No! There is no worse for me! I trust in God I shall be buried where I grew up!"
"Then you will leave the hills sure enough!" said the chief.
"Not so sure, Macruadh! We shall rest in our graves till the resurrection!" said an old man.
"Only our bodies," returned Alister.
"Well, and what will my body be but myself! Much I would make of myself without my body! I will stay with my body, and let my soul step about, waiting for me, and craving a shot at the stags with the big branches! No, I won't be going from my own strath!"
"You would not like to be left in it alone, with none but unfriendly Sasunnachs about you—not one of your own people to close your eyes?"