“Dool (Note 1) on the day for the hoose o’ Glen Lyle,” exclaimed Peter, rolling his eyes.
“Come, father, come. Peter put him in a tub.”
Captain Lyle followed Effie. There, sure enough, in the tub of water lay Joe, the monarch of the loch. Peter pointed to the animal’s tail.
“How strange!” said Captain Lyle, as well he might, for a huge gold ring ran through the last vertebrae, and attached to this a plate, with the letters L.L., and the date 17— plainly visible.
A few minutes afterwards Joe seemed to recover all of a sudden, and began tearing round and round the tub, his huge jaws snapping and his eyes glaring like a demon’s.
Every one started back astonished, but old Peter’s antics were a sight to see.
He seized a big wooden lid and clapped it over the tub, and set himself on top thereof. Then he addressed himself to the cook—
“Run, ye auld roodas,” he roared; “run to the kitchen, and fetch the biggest kettle-pot ye can lay yer claws on!”
The pot was duly fetched, and clapped upside down on top of the lid on the tub.
Then Peter flung his cap to the roof of the hall, and shouted, “Saved, saved! The auld hoose is saved yet.”