"Your people! A set of idle, poaching fellows! By heaven, the strath shall be rid of the pack of them before another year is out!"
"While I have land in it with room for them to stand upon, the strath shall not be rid of them!—But this is idle! Where have you put Hector of the Stags?"
Mr. Palmer laughed.
"In safe keeping. There is no occasion to be uneasy about him! He shall have plenty to eat and drink, be well punished, and show the rest of the rascals the way out of the country!"
"Then I must find him! You compel me!"
So saying, the chief, with intent to begin his search at the top of the house in the hope of seeing Mercy, darted up the stair. She heard him coming, went a few steps higher, and waited. On the landing he saw her, white, with flashing eyes. Their hands clasped each other—for a moment only, but the moment was of eternity, not of time.
"You will find Hector in the tool-house," she said aloud.
"You shameless hussey!" cried her father, following the chief in a fury.
Mercy ran up the stair. The chief turned and faced Mr. Palmer.
"You have no business in my house!"