“Yes.”
“Down wi’ ye, then. He canna catch us there. Noo, Tonald, catch.”
He threw the pipes at the old man, and then darted through the narrow opening, and followed the others down the spiral stairs at such a rate that an accident seemed certain; but they reached the bottom in safety, and stood at last in the courtyard, laughing and cheering.
“Tonal’!” shouted Scoodrach; and he added something in Gaelic.
The effect was to bring the old piper’s head and shoulders out of the narrow broken window opening, where he stood, hugging the pipes in one hand, and shaking the other menacingly.
Then, changing his manner, he began to beckon with his great claw-like hand.
“Nivver mind him, laddie. Come up here and I’ll play ye Macrimmon owre again.”
“No, no!” exclaimed Max earnestly.
“Says he’s afraid you’d blow the roof off, Tonal’,” shouted Kenneth. “No time. He’s coming along with us;” and he led Max, to his very great delight, out through the old arch on to the broad terrace by the sea. But they had not gone many yards before they heard old Donald again piping away, with no other audience but the jackdaws, which came and settled near, and looked at him sideways, too much used to the wild strains to be alarmed, and knowing from experience that the old piper would pay no heed to them.