“Ready to fight, Tonal’?”
“Ay, she’ll fecht! she’ll fecht for ta auld hame! But whusht, laddie!”
“Eh?” cried Kenneth; “what is it?”
“Stanes, laddie, stanes.”
“Stanes! what about ’em?”
“Gin ye—but whusht!—gin ye had aboot sax hundert stanes a’ retty on ta toor, she could ding them a’ doon on ta caterans’ heads.”
“Ah, but we might break their heads, Tonal’. No, no; something softer than that. We’ll have water.”
“Watter? Watter, laddie?” cried the old piper contemptuously. “D’ye want to wash ta enemies o’ ta hoose? Stanes,—gran’ stanes,—and she’ll ding them doon.”
“No, no, Tonal’; that will not do.”
The old man stood staring in wonder and disgust as Kenneth hurried away; but directly after he caught sight of Max, and, raising his hand and crooking one finger, he morally took the lad into custody as he approached him slowly.