The doctor is now distinctly visible, riding after his fashion.
There was never such a chance, if it were only Saturday; and each man reads his own regret in his neighbor's face.
The doctor is nearing them rapidly; they can imagine the shepherd's tartan.
Sabbath or no Sabbath, the Glen cannot let him pass without some tribute of their pride.
Jess had recognized friends, and the doctor is drawing rein.
“It hes tae be dune,” said Jamie desperately, “say what ye like.” Then they all looked towards him, and Jamie led.
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“Hurrah,” swinging his Sabbath hat in the air, “hurrah,” and once more, “hurrah,” Whinnie Knowe, Drumsheugh, and Hillocks joining lustily, but Tammas Mitchell carrying all before him, for he had found at last an expression for his feelings that rendered speech unnecessary.
It was a solitary experience for horse and rider, and Jess bolted without delay. But the sound followed and surrounded them, and as they passed the corner of the kirkyard, a figure waved his college cap over the wall and gave a cheer on his own account.