"Ye'll try the world soon, my lad,
And Andrew, dear, believe me,
Ye'll find mankind an unco squad,
And muckle may they grieve ye.
For care and trouble set your thought,
Even when your end's attained;
And a' your views may come to nought,
When every nerve is strained."—BURNS.
After a careful search through some of the old dog-eared Army Lists, which, with Burns' poems, Brown's "Self-interpreting Bible," and Abercrombie's "Martial Achievements of the Scots Nation," formed the chief literary stores in his snuggery, the old quartermaster discovered that in the 94th, the famous old Scots brigade, there was a Captain Richard Warriston. He was the only one of that name in the service, and doubtless the same officer whom Quentin had mentioned in his letter as having so kindly befriended him; and by Lord Rohallion's direction, Girvan at once addressed a letter to the officer commanding the regiment for some information regarding the runaway.
In due time an answer came from Colonel James Campbell, to state "that no volunteer named Quentin Kennedy had attached himself to the 94th Regiment," thus the household of the old castle were sorely perplexed what to do, and had to trust to time or to Quentin himself for clearing up the mystery that overhung his actions.
In little more than ten days after Cosmo's name had appeared in the War Office Gazette, Quentin received the unwelcome information that the new lieutenant-colonel, his enemy, had arrived at head-quarters, and that a parade in full marching order was to take place on the morrow, when he would formally take over the command of the corps from poor Major Middleton.
Though daily expected, these tidings fell like a knell upon Quentin's heart, and the old sickly emotion that came over him, when Warriston brought the fatal Gazette to the mess-room, returned again in all its force.
"I think this Guardsman will prove a thorough Tartar," said Captain Askerne, in whose rooms Quentin first heard Cosmo's arrival canvassed; "and I fear that he won't make himself popular among the Borderers."
"From what do you infer that?" said some one.
"He refused to let the drums beat the 'Point of War' this morning."
"The devil he did!" said Colville.
"That looks ill, damme!" added Monkton.