"Let all things be done decently and in order." "I will try," said Ranald, simply.

But Farquhar McNaughton looked at him doubtfully.
"It is a peety," he said, "there is not one with more experience.

He is but a lad." But Donald Ross had been much impressed with Ranald's capable manner the night before.
"Never you fear, Farquhar," he replied; "Ranald is not one to fail us." As Ranald stood watching the wagons rumbling down the road and out of sight, he felt as if years must have passed since he had received the letter that had laid on him the heavy burden of this sad news.

That his uncle, Macdonald Bhain, should have sent the word to him brought Ranald a sense of responsibility that awakened the man in him, and he knew he would feel himself a boy no more.

And with that new feeling of manhood stirring within him, he went about his work that day, omitting no detail in arrangement for the seemly conduct of the funeral.
Night was falling as the wagons rumbled back again from Cornwall, bringing back the shantymen and their dead companion.