SANDEMAN. Ah, listen behind the door you mean! Now I never thought of that!
CAMPBELL. Did ye not! Humph! Well, no doubt there are a good many things in the universe that yet wait for your thought upon them. What would be your objections, now?
SANDEMAN. There are two objections, Kilmhor, that you would understand.
CAMPBELL. Name them.
SANDEMAN. Well, in the first place, we have not wings like crows to fly—and the footsteps on the snow—Second point—the woman would have told him we were there.
CAMPBELL. Not if I told her I had power to clap her in Inverness jail.
MARY STEWART (in contempt). Yes, even if ye had told me ye had power to clap me in hell, Mr. Campbell.
CAMPBELL. Lift me that screeching Jezebel oot o' here; Sandeman, we'll mak' a quick finish o' this. (Soldiers take her towards barn.) No, not there; pitch the old girzie into the snow.
MARY STEWART. Ye'll never find him, Campbell, never, never!
CAMPBELL (enraged). Find him! Aye, by God I'll find him, if I have to keek under every stone on the mountains from the Boar of Badenoch to the Sow of Athole. (Old woman and soldiers go outside.) And now, Captain Sandeman, you an' me must have a word or two. I noted your objection to listening ahint doors and so on. Now, I make a' necessary allowances for youth and the grand and magneeficent ideas commonly held, for a little while, in that period. I had them myself. But, man, gin ye had trod the floor of the Parliament Hoose in Edinburry as long as I did, wi' a pair o' thin hands at the bottom o' toom pockets, ye'd ha'e shed your fine notions, as I did. Noo, fine pernickety noansense will no' do in this business—