“What mean ye, man? Speyk oot,” said Malcolm.
“They say it’s a’ anent the abduckin’ o’ the markis’s boat, ’at you an’ him gaed aff wi’ thegither.”
“That’ll hardly haud, seeing the marchioness hersel’ cam hame in her the last nicht.”
“Ay, but ye see the decree’s gane oot, an’ what the factor says is like the laws o’ the Medes an’ the Prussians, ’at they say’s no to be altert; I kenna mysel’.”
“Ow weel! gien that be a’, I’ll see efter that wi’ the marchioness.”
“Ay, but ye see there’s a lot o’ the laads there, as I’m tellt, ’at has vooed ’at factor nor factor’s man sall ever set fut in Scaurnose frae this day furth. Gang ye doon to the Seaton, an’ see hoo mony o’ yer auld freen’s ye’ll fin’ there. Man, they’re a’ oot to Scaurnose to see the plisky! The factor he’s there, I ken, an’ some constables wi’ ’im—to see ’at his order’s cairried oot. An’ the laads they ha’e been fortifeein’ the place—as they ca’ ’t—for the last oor. They’ve howkit a trenk, they tell me, ’at nane but a hunter on ’s horse cud win ower, an’ they’re postit alang the toon side o’ ’t wi’ sticks an’ stanes, an’ boat-heuks, an’ guns an’ pistils. An’ gien there bena a man or twa killt a’ready,——”
Before he finished his sentence, Kelpie was levelling herself for the sea-gate.
Johnny Bykes was locking it on the other side, in haste to secure his eye-share of what was going on, when he caught sight of Malcolm tearing up. Mindful of the old grudge, also that there was no marquis now to favour his foe, he finished the arrested act of turning the key, drew it from the lock, and to Malcolm’s orders, threats, and appeals, returned for all answer that he had no time to attend to him, and so left him looking through the bars. Malcolm dashed across the burn, and round the base of the hill on which stood the little windgod blowing his horn, dismounted, unlocked the door in the wall, got Kelpie through, and was in the saddle again before Johnny was half-way from the gate. When the churl saw him, he trembled, turned, and ran for its shelter again in terror—nor perceived until he reached it, that the insulted groom had gone off like the wind in the opposite direction.
Malcolm soon left the high road and cut across the fields—over which the wind bore cries and shouts, mingled with laughter and the animal sounds of coarse jeering. When he came nigh the cart-road which led into the village, he saw at the entrance of the street a crowd, and rising from it the well-known shape of the factor on his horse. Nearer the sea, where was another entrance through the back-yards of some cottages, was a smaller crowd. Both were now pretty silent, for the attention of all was fixed on Malcolm’s approach. As he drew up Kelpie foaming and prancing, and the group made way for her, he saw a deep wide ditch across the road, on whose opposite side was ranged irregularly the flower of Scaurnose’s younger manhood, calmly, even merrily prepared to defend their entrenchment. They had been chaffing the factor, and loudly challenging the constables to come on, when they recognised Malcolm in the distance, and expectancy stayed the rush of their bruising wit. For they regarded him as beyond a doubt come from the marchioness with messages of goodwill. When he rode up, therefore, they raised a great shout, everyone welcoming him by name. But the factor, who, to judge by appearances, had had his forenoon dram ere he left home, burning with wrath, moved his horse in between Malcolm and the assembled Scaurnoseans on the other side of the ditch. He had self-command enough left, however, to make one attempt at the loftily superior.
“Pray what is your business?” he said, as if he had never seen Malcolm in his life before, “I presume you come with a message.”