Two days later Alexander rode to Black Hill.

There had been in the night a storm with thunder and lightning, wind and rain.

Huge, ragged banks of clouds yet hung sullen in the air, though with lakes of blue between and shafts of sun.

The road was wet and shone.

Now Black Alan must pick his way, and now there held long stretches of easy going.
The old laird's quarrel with Mr.Archibald Touris was not the young laird's.