Griff sat quietly in his saddle; he was undismayed by the outbreak, though Lassie was growing restive again.
"Damned hospitable you are," he murmured.
The other came to himself.
"Come in, and have something to drink. I told the old ruffian at the inn to send me some whisky, and if he's failed me, we'll amuse ourselves by going back and breaking his senile neck."
"You can, if you like," grinned Lomax, as he slipped out of the saddle; "for my part I would rather tackle Jack o' Ling Crag another day. Wait till you have seen him with two keepers in front, and three more coming up hot-foot behind him."
"Have you?" Roddick demanded, turning sharp on his heel.
"Well, once or twice; and we licked them all to pieces."
"I didn't think you had it in you. That Ogilvie woman must have rotted you more than we dreamed of. You really are a bit of a man, are you, Lomax?"
"Just a bit, when the fit is on me. Moonlight seems to be good for your temper, by the way; I wish you would not be so absurdly polite, Roddick."