'Glenorchy's proud mountains, Colchurn and her towers,
Glenstrae and Glen Lyon no longer are ours—
We're landless, landless, landless, Gregalach.'
All this was very well done; for he began to forget his audience a little, and to put into his singing something of the expression that had come naturally enough to him when he was away on the Clebrig slopes or wandering along Strath-Terry. As for the audience—when he had finished and stepped back to his seat—they seemed quite electrified. Not often had such a clear-ringing voice penetrated that murky atmosphere. But nothing would induce Ronald to repeat the performance.
'What made me do it?' he kept asking himself. 'What made me do it? Bless me, surely I'm no fou'?'
'Ye've got a most extraordinarily fine voice, Mr. Strang,' the chairman said, in his most complaisant manner, 'I hope it's not the last time ye'll favour us.'
Ronald did not answer this. He seemed at once moody and restless. Presently he said—
'Come away, lads, come away. In God's name let's get a breath o' fresh air—the smoke o' this place is like the bottomless pit.'
'Then let's gang down and have a chat wi' Kate Menzies,' said Jimmy Laidlaw at once.
'Ye're after that supper, Jimmy!' the big skipper said facetiously.