“Could ye manage t’ see Digger Rock?” he inquired.
The moon, breaking out, disclosed it: ’twas a rock near by, submerged save at low-tide––I could see it.
“Very good,” says he. “Could ye hit it?”
“I’ve nothing to shy, sir.”
“But an you had?” he insisted.
My tutor entered the hall. I heard him go past the door. ’Twas in a quick, agitated step, not pausing to regard us, but continuing up the stair to his own room. I wondered why that was.
“Eh, Dannie?” says my uncle.
“I might, sir,” I answered.
“Then,” says he, “try it with this bottle!”
I cast the bottle.