In summer Alec had quite revelled in its greenness and softness, as he lay on it reading the _Arabian Nights_ and the Ettrick Shepherd's stories: now it was "white with the whiteness of what is dead;" for is not the snow just dead water?
The flag-staff he had got George Macwha to erect for him, at a very small outlay; and he had himself fitted it with shrouds and a cross-yard, and signal halliards; for he had always a fancy for the sea, and boats, and rigging of all sorts.

And he had a great red flag, too, which he used to hoist on special occasions--on market-days and such like; and often besides when a good wind blew.

And very grand it looked, as it floated in the tide of the wind.
Often he paused in his work, and turned--and oftener without raising himself he glanced towards the town; but no signal burned from the ridge of Curly's house, and he went on with his labour.

When called in to tea, he gave a long wistful look townwards, but saw no sign.

Out again he went, but no blue fire rejoiced him that night with the news that Juno was ranging the streets; and he was forced to go to bed at last, and take refuge from his disappointment in sleep.
The next day he strictly questioned all his officers as to the manner in which they had fulfilled their duty, and found no just cause of complaint.
"In future," he said to Curly, with the importance of one who had the affairs of boys and dogs upon his brain--so that his style rose into English--"in future, Curly, you may always know I am at home when you see the red flag flying from my flag-staff." "That's o' sma' service, General, i' the lang forenichts.