"I never heard of it."
"Oh yes, you have. When Sandy of the long red locks comes down from the high hills London capitulates at once. Don't you know, Wharton, that Great Britain and all her colonies are ruled by the Scotch?"
Carstairs broke into a hearty laugh.
"You have me there, Wharton," he said. "Certainly we're ruled by the Scotch. We have to let them do it or they'd make the country so disagreeable there'd be no living in it. Jove, but I wish I could hear the bagpipes now and see a hundred thousand of their red heads coming over the hills. It's such fine country around here that they'd never let the Germans have it."
"I like them too," said John. "They're brave men and they speak a sort of English."
Carstairs laughed.
"Don't criticize their English unless you want a fight," he said. "A man is often proudest of what he lacks."
"Just so, Carstairs, and I've often wondered too why so few of the English can speak their own language."
"Shut up, Scott! You've joined Wharton and two against one is not fair. Confound this rain! I wish it would stop! I'm getting wet and cold again. Here the road forks, and Weber said he came down from the north."
"And since he got a bullet in the arm the northern road is bad for us," said Wharton. "If you two agree we'll turn to the west."