The aspect of this animal was appalling; its red eyes shot fire; a moment it paused, bellowing, roaring, and raking and stabbing, as it tore up the purple heather with its giant antlers; but with a cry of triumph I rushed full at him, and escaping by a blessed mercy his terrible array of points, buried my sharp skene-dhu in his broad chest.
Back went the noble head with its lofty antlers, the fore-legs were extended, and the knees bent as the red life-blood gushed out in torrents; but again and again my black knife was buried to its hilt in the snow-white chest of the stag—the wondrous stag of the Mac Innons!
His head rose and fell; his whole frame vibrated; he lolled out a hot steaming tongue, and sank at my feet, dead—this strange creature of a hundred gloomy legends—leaving me covered with gore—panting with excitement, and with the hilt of my skene-dhu glued to my right hand by the hideous puddle that had gushed upon it at each successive death-blow.
Laura was saved, and by me!
CHAPTER XXV.
THE GAEL AND THE SAXON.
'Hoigh, Mac Innon!' exclaimed Callum Dhu, with a shout of triumph; 'such a feat has not been done since old Glengarry slew the wild stag in the pass of Glendulochan!'
I lifted Laura (who was faint and almost sick with terror) from her pony, and placed her on the soft grassy bank, where I besought her to be calm, as all danger was now past; but, on perceiving that my right hand and arm were drenched in blood, she uttered a cry, and clasping my left hand in hers, asked me in the most moving terms whether 'I was hurt—if I was safe—uninjured—to speak to her, to say whether I was wounded or not?'
I forget alike her exact words and my answer; for we were both trembling and confused; but in that moment of excitement each had revealed to the other, more of mutual regard than any circumstance, save danger, could have drawn forth. On recovering a little, I said,—
'For the act of to-day, I trust, Miss Everingham, that you will think of me kindly when I am gone.'