“Oh ay,” said Scood, “we’ll pe retty;” and, with a queer look, he drew a sgian-dhu from his belt.
“Ah, none of that, Scoody!” cried Kenneth. “Give me that knife.”
“Nay; she wants it for ta togs when ta gate’s knockit down.”
“No, you don’t. Here, Max, take away that knife.”
“Nay, she will na give it up,” growled Scoody menacingly; and his face grew dark as Max seized his wrist and took the knife.
“Ye daurna do that if ta young chief wasna here,” he said angrily.
“Yes, I dare,” cried Max, turning away, and giving Kenneth the knife, which he jerked over his shoulder into the courtyard.
At that moment the pipes struck up again, “The Campbells are coming,” and old Tonal’ recommenced his short march to and fro, for the bailiffs gang, after shouldering the old spar, were in full march up the steep slope towards the gateway, and as they approached they gave a triumphant cheer.
“Now, once more,” cried the bailiff: “where’s Mr Mackhai?”
“What do you mean with your ‘once more’? You never asked that before.”