"Fine that."
"And tell the laird's folk that Master Fielding is safe for the nicht at——"
Bunko strode across the floor and laid a huge red hand on the young stranger.
"Master Fielding—that's this wee blinker, isn't it noo?"
The lad laughed, and put something in Bunko's hand. Bunko looked at the coin.
"A bonnie white shillin'!" he cried. "Hurrah! Noo I tell ye, sirs, the grass winna grow aneath poor Bunko's feet till he's at Benshee-house and back again. Keelie, laddie, whaur are you?"
A wall-eyed collie dog sprang up at the summons. Bunko struck his pole once on the floor, then he and Keelie went out into the darkness, and were seen no more that night.
"I really ought to have gone with Bunko," said Frank Fielding, for that was the stranger's name. "But it doesn't matter much," he added, "only mamma will be quite pleased to hear of our adventure. Fred, you will be a hero, and Miss Toddie a heroine. For mamma is very romantic. And I'm sure, Fred, I'll never forget it. I had been fishing, sir"—he was addressing the old fisherman now—"and was overtaken by the tide. It was very dreadful with the night coming on, and the sea birds moaning and screaming around that cold grey rock, and the water rising, rising, rising. Heigho! it would soon have covered me; so you see, Miss Toddie, you saved my life."
"Well," replied little Miss Consequential, "when oo says oo players to-night, of tourse oo'll thank the dood Lord?"
"Yes, Toddie, I must," said Frank with a little sigh. Well might he sigh! Prayers in the family circle were unknown at Benshee Hall.