BULLER.
No offence.
NORTH.
He has. But we have not always all our senses about us, Buller, nor our wits either—he had been somewhat scared, a league up Glen Etive, by the Huntsman of Gleno—the scent of powder was in his nostrils; but fury follows fear, and in a minute I heard his bark again—as now I hear it—on the highway to Benlura.
BULLER.
He must have had enormous talons.
NORTH.
My hand is none of the smallest—
BULLER.
God bless you, my dear sir,—give me a grasp.