Playing with Fire: A Story of the Soudan War

by James Grant

'Oh, sir, but I've been langing to see ye ere it is owre late and the mischief done!' he exclaimed.

'What mischief?'

'The meadowing o' the park and lawn, where never a plough has been since the King was in Falkland.'

'Who has suggested this piece of utilitarian barbarity?' asked Roland with lowering brow.

'Wha wad it be but Mr. Hawkey Sharpe? Pawkie-Sharpe wad be a better name for him,' was the contemptuous response, made with evident bitterness of heart.

'I'll see to that, Willie,' said Roland as he strode on, but soon to be confronted by another official—a kind of forester—who had charge of all the timber on the property.

'I hope, Captain,' said the latter, 'you're in time to save the King's Wood, sir.'

'What do you mean?'

'Ye surely ken it is doomed—a' to the King's Thorn?'

'Doomed—how?'