“My friends,” said Kenneth MacFearsome, taking up the prayer-book, and commencing a speech which he had spent the entire forenoon in preparing, “I have a few words to say to you on this interesting occasion.”
The old gentleman’s usually stern and handsome countenance had relaxed, and assumed a bland, sweet expression, which was more consonant with the circumstances in which they were assembled. Before he could utter another word, however, he was interrupted, to his great surprise, by Reuben.
“Excuse me, Mr MacFearsome,” said that bold though bashful hunter, “but my friend and comrade, Jacob Strang, has not yet arrived, and it would grieve me to the heart if he was absent at such a time as this. Couldn’t we wait a bit? I wouldn’t ask you to do so for any other man alive, but I’ve hunted wi’ him since we were slips of boys, and—and I can’t help thinkin’ that somethin’s gone wrong wi’ him, for Jacob’s good and true, and trusty as steel, an’ wasn’t used to fail in his engagements.”
While the hunter was speaking the bland expression faded from the Highlander’s countenance, and a fierce look flashed from his blue eyes as he replied in stern, decided tones:—
“Reuben Dale, if your friend Jacob was the great Israel of Bible story, or even Moses himself, I would not wait for him. Don’t interrupt me again, lad.”
He turned to the assembled company with a wave of his hand, as if to dismiss the interruption from memory, and attempted to reassume the benignant expression, with only partial success.
“My friends,” he said, but said no more, for at that moment he was a second time interrupted. A shout was heard outside, the door of the hall burst open, and Jacob Strang himself strode in, bearing the Reverend William Tucker on his shoulders.
Depositing his burden on the floor, he said hurriedly, “He’s not dead, only stunned. The reptiles did their best to kill him. They’re not far off, MacFearsome. We’d better go after them.”
The MacFearsome usually gave vent to his feelings in Gaelic when labouring under strong excitement. On this occasion his utterances were terrible in tone whatever their meaning might be.
“Go after them?” he cried, in a blaze of wrath, “yes, we’ll go after them. Saddle my horse and fetch my gun. Arm yourself, boys! Some of you will remain to guard the Fort, and see that you keep the gates shut. Can you guide us to the villains, Jacob?”