Angus accepted the invitation, and proceeded to load with much deliberation.
Now it must be known that the Highlander loved the view from that knoll as much as did his neighbour. It reminded him of the old country where he had been born and bred on a hill-top. He coveted that willow knoll intensely, desiring to build a house on it, and, being prosperous, was willing to give for it more than its value, for his present dwelling lay somewhat awkwardly in the creek, a little higher up the river, so that the willows on the knoll interfered vexatiously with his view.
“It’s a peautiful spote this!” observed Angus, after a few preliminary puffs.
“It is,” answered the old trader curtly, (and the demon awoke).
Angus made no rejoinder for a few minutes, but continued to puff great clouds with considerable emphasis from his compressed lips. Mr Ravenshaw returned the fire with interest.
“It’ll no pe for sellin’ the knowl, ye are?” said Angus.
The demon was fairly roused now.
“No, Angus Macdonald,” said the trader sternly, “I’ll not sell it. I’ve told you already more than once, and it is worse than ill-judged, it is impertinent of you to come bothering me to part with my land.”
“Ho! inteed!” exclaimed Angus, rising in wrath, and cramming his pipe into his vest pocket; “it is herself that will pe pothering you no more spout your dirty land, Samyool Ruvnshaw.”
He strode from the spot with a look of ineffable scorn, and the air of an offended chieftain.