“Men,” said Malcolm, “I have spared that foolish lord there for the sake of this fisher-girl and his child, but don’t one of you touch me.”
Stoat was a brave enough man, and not a little jealous of Malcolm, but he dared not obey his mistress.
And now came the tramp of many feet along the landing from the stair-head, and the six fisherman entered, two and two. Florimel started forward.
“My brave fisherman!” she cried. “Take that bad man MacPhail, and put him out of my grounds.”
“I canna du ’t, my leddy,” answered their leader.
“Take Lord Liftore,” said Malcolm, “and hold him, while I make him acquainted with a fact or two which he may judge of consequence to him.”
The men walked straight up to the earl. He struck right and left, but was overpowered in a moment, and held fast.
“Stan’ still,” said Peter, “or I ha’e a han’-fu’ o’ twine i’ my pooch ’at I’ll jist cast a k-not aboot yer airms wi’ in a jiffey.”
His lordship stood still, muttering curses.
Then Malcolm stepped into the middle of the room approaching his sister.