As we ate and drank he would gossip about
the ways of the world; and though he never mentioned his own doings,
there was such an air of mastery about him as made him seem the centre
figure of his tales, I could see that Grey was mightily captivated, and
all afternoon he plied him with questions, and laughed joyously at his
answers. As we camped that night, while Grey was minding his horse
Ringan spoke of him to me.
"I like the lad, Andrew. He has the makings of a very proper gentleman,
and he has the sense to be young. What I complain of in you is that
you're desperate old. I wonder whiles if you ever were a laddie. For
me, though I'm ten years the elder of the pair of you, I've no more
years than your friend, and I'm a century younger than you. That's the
Highland way. There's that in our blood that keeps our eyes young
though we may be bent double. With us the heart is aye leaping till
Death grips us. To my mind it's a lovable character that I fain would
cherish. If I couldn't sing on a spring morning or say a hearty grace
over a good dinner I'd be content to be put away in a graveyard."
And that, I think, is the truth. But at the time I was feeling pretty
youthful, too, though my dour face and hard voice were a bad clue to my
sentiments.
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