“Never you mind about that, my lad; and you’ll find yourself in prison for this day’s work. Where’s Mr Mackhai?”
“Gone to Inverness, ugly,” cried Kenneth derisively.
“Then you’ve got to give up this place to me quietly, under an—”
Bang!
“Who threw that potato?”
“I did,” cried Max, laughing at the success of his aim, and his shot was followed by a shower which disorganised the enemy so that they ducked and dodged, and ended by dropping the old spar, from which all leaped, so as to save their toes.
“Pick it up, you great fools,” roared the bailiff angrily. “And you look here,” he cried, shaking the paper: “all the proper legal forms have been gone through, and this is an eviction order at the suit of— Hang them! how they can throw!” cried the man angrily, as a fresh missile struck him on the cheek.
“Fecht, laddies, fecht!” yelled Tonal’, stopping for a moment to shout, and then blowing again with all his might.
“You’d better go and pull that old madman down,” cried the bailiff. “Now, once for all,” he continued, shaking the paper, “will you surrender?”
“No!” shouted Kenneth.