The next morning came a note to the cottage, in which Sercombe thanked the Macruadh for changing his mind, and said that, although he was indeed glad to have secured such a splendid head, he would certainly have stalked another deer, had he known the chief set such store by the one in question.
It was handed to Alister as he sat at his second breakfast with his mother and Ian: even in winter he was out of the house by six o'clock, to set his men to work, and take his own share. He read to the end of the first page with curling lip; the moment he turned the leaf, he sprang from his seat with an exclamation that startled his mother.
"The hound!—I beg my good dogs' pardon, one and all!" he cried.
"—Look at this, Ian! See what comes of taking your advice!"
"My dear fellow, I gave you no advice that had the least regard to the consequence of following it! That was the one thing you had nothing to do with."
"READA," insisted Alister, as he pranced about the room. "No, don't read the letter; it's not worth, reading. Look at the paper in it."
Ian looked, and saw a cheque for ten pounds. He burst into loud laughter.
"Poor Ruadh's horns! they're hardly so long as their owner's ears!" he said.
"I told you so!" cried the chief.
"No, Alister! You never suspected such a donkey!"
"What is it all about?" asked the mother.