"How mean you?"
"In your coffin," replied MacGregor, with a dark and terrible frown.
Aware that he had to deal with one who did not stand on trifles, MacLaren, apprehensive for the result, agreed that two of his servants (who had ventured to the inn), accompanied by Coll and Greumoch, should go to the house of Invernentie and get the bond, while he remained as Rob's hostage in Strathfillan.
They were absent some time, as Invernentie (which means the conflux of dark waters) was several miles distant; but on the evening of the second day they returned with the bond, and placed it in the hands of MacLaren, who, without opening it, tossed it across the table to Rob Roy, saying, sullenly,—
"Here is your precious document, and now let me begone."
"Not quite so fast—tarry, I pray you," said Rob, as he read over the paper, examined it in every particular, tore it into minute fragments, and scattered them over the clay floor of the room.
"Now," he added, "here is the money of Glengyle."
"I shall record the discharge of the debt in the books of the sheriff," said MacLaren, rising and putting on his bonnet.
"You and the sheriff may do exactly as you please," said Rob; "in fact you have my full permission to hang yourselves, if it suits your fancy; but, in the meantime, give me a discharge in full for the money which you lent my nephew, Gregor MacGregor of Glengyle."
Invernentie, who had some other roguish scheme in his head, most unwillingly wrote and signed the required quittance, which Rob carefully read, folded, and put in his pocket, together with the bag of money, telling him that now he would not pay him a farthing—"that the sum lost was too small a fine for the outrage he had attempted to perpetrate in form of law, and that he might be thankful that he escaped with a sound skin."