"Ye'll be seein' him in half-an-hour."
"I want to see him in half-a-minute."
"He's awa' at his lunch," said the warder. "I've disturrbed him at his breakfast for ye already the morn; can't you let him get a bite in peace? I wouldna be hard on ye, but ye must be reasonable."
"Mackenzie!"
Again the prisoner called him back. He had swung his feet to the ground; he looked wild and dangerous enough for anything. "You bring Scott along. You'll be sorry for it if you don't."
"I tell you he's awa at his—"
"Man, man! What's that to do with it? You fetch him here double-quick time, or I tell you you'll be sorry for it—you'll be sorry all the days of your life! Will you go?"
Mackenzie caught that green glitter, and he did not like it; he did not like it at all. It sent him off, shaking his head, hotfoot to the doctor's quarters, to face again the redoubtable Katie. Meanwhile the prisoner sprang up and paced his cell, up and down, with the strength of fever. When the doctor came in, he was standing in the middle of the floor, his stool held by the leg in one hand, in the other a small object which he thrust violently forward.
"Here, Scott, catch hold of this! You've been long enough coming—you're only just in time!"