"She snatched my own from its sheath, and pricked me twice before I guessed her purpose. And all because I stooped my face to kiss her."
"'Tis just what thou'd'st have done, Janet; eh, lass? Methinks thou'lt pair with this hot wench from Marsh," said the Lean Man, laying a jesting hand on the girl's shoulder.
"We shall pair ill, I fear," she answered coldly,—"as for the dagger-stroke—I should have aimed nearer the heart, grandfather," she added, glancing hardily at Red Ratcliffe.
"Thy aim for a man's heart is always very sure," her cousin answered, meeting her glance good-humouredly.
"Tut-tut! Thou'rt indifferent clumsy as a wooer, lad—but, by the Lord, thou hast a head for scheming. What, then? We've got the lass, and Wayne will follow."
"That was my thought, sir. We'll let him bide awhile—till sundown, say—and then, just as his anxiousness on Mistress Nell's behalf is getting past bearing, we will send word that she is here, with a broad hint or so of what will chance to her before the dawn——"
"Ay, ay," broke in the Lean Man, "and he'll come, if I know him, as if his horse were shod with wind; and I'll brace my stiffened sinews once again; and an old sore shall be cured for good and all."
"Will the Brown Dog carry its master through this pass, think ye?" cried Red Ratcliffe boastfully.
The Lean Man's eagerness died swift as it had come. His hard lips shrank into senile curves. The dulness of a great terror clouded his hawk-bright eyes.
"The Dog? The Dog?" he mumbled, at the end of a long silence. "Ay, thou fool, 'twill conquer as aforetime. Useless, useless, I tell thee! The girl is here—well, he will find a way to rescue her."