'A M'Crimman of Coila, by all that is furious! And so, youngster, you've come to watch? You know the family feud, don't you? Well, prepare to meet your doom. You'll never leave here alive.'
He pointed his gun at me as he spoke.
'Hold!' cried one of the men. 'We came from town to do a bit of honest work, but we will not witness murder.'
'I only wanted to frighten him,' said M'Rae, lowering his gun. 'Look you, sir,' he continued, addressing me once more, 'I don't want revenge, even on a M'Crimman of Coila. I'm a poacher; perhaps I'm a distiller in a quiet way. No matter, you know what an oath is. You'll swear ere you leave here, not to breathe a word of what you've seen. You hear?'
'I promise I won't,' I faltered.
He handled his fowling-piece threateningly once again. Verily, he had just then a terribly evil look.
'I swear,' I said, with trembling lips.
His gun was again lowered. He seemed to breathe more freely—less fiercely.
'Go, now,' he said, pointing across the moor. 'If a poor man like myself wants to hide either his game or his private still, what odds is it to a M'Crimman of Coila?'
How I got home I never knew. I remember that evening being in our front drawing-room with what seemed a sea of anxious faces round me, some of which were bathed in tears. Then all was a long blank, interspersed with fearful dreams.