A dark, thin soldier put in his word, well garnished with oaths. "Now that there's war up and down and so many of us are going out of the country, there's a saying that the Pretender may e'en sail across from France and beat a drum and give a shout! Then there'll be a sorting—"
"Them that would rise wouldn't be enough to make a graveyard ghost to frighten with!"
"You're mistaken there. They'll frighten ye all right when they answer the drum! I'm thinking there's some in the army would answer it!"
"Then they'll be hanged, drawn, and quartered!" averred the corporal. "Who are ye thinking would do that?"
"I'm not precisely knowing. But there are some with King George were brought up on the hope of King James!"
More liquor appeared upon the table, was poured and drunk. The talk grew professional. The King's shilling, and the advantage of taking it, came solely upon the board, and who might or might not 'list from this dale and the bordering hills. Strickland and Robin Greenlaw left their corner.
"I must get back to the house."
"And I to Littlefarm."
They went out together. There were few in the street. The snow was beginning to fall. Greenlaw untied his horse.
"I hope that we're not facing another 'fifteen! 'Scotland's ain Stewarts, and Break the Union!' It sounds well, but it's not in the line of progression. What does Captain Ian Rullock think about it?"