A howl arose from the rest.
"Ye promised a'ready," said Blue Peter.
"Na, I didna that: I said never a word."
"What right, then, had you to remain and listen to my disclosure?" said Malcolm. "If you be guilty of such a mean trick as betray me and ruin my plans, no honest man in Portlossie or Scaurnose but will scorn you."
"There! tak ye that!" said Peter. "An' I s' promise ye, ye s' never lay leg ower the gunnel o' my boat again. I s' hae nane but Christi-an men i' my pey."
"Ye hired me for the sizzon, Blew Peter," said Girnel, turning defiantly.
"Oh! ye s' hae yer wauges. I'm no ane to creep oot o' a bargain, or say 'at I didna promise. Ye s' hae yer penny. Ye s' get yer reward, never fear. But into my boat ye s' no come. We'll hae nae Auchans i' oor camp. Eh, Girnel, man, but ye hae lost yersel' the day! He'll never loup far 'at winna lippen. The auld worthies tuik their life i' their han', but ye tak yer fit (foot) i' yours. I'm clean affrontit 'at ever I hed ye amo' my men."
But with that there rushed over Peter the recollection of how he had himself mistrusted—not Malcolm's word indeed, but his heart. He turned, and clasping his hands in sudden self-reproach, "My lord, I saired ye ill mysel' ance," he cried, "for I misdoobted 'at ye wasna the same to me efter ye cam to yer ain. I beg yer pardon, my lord, here i' the face o' my freen's. It was ill-temper an' pride i' me, jist the same as it's noo in Girnel there; an' ye maun forgie him, as ye forgae me, my lord, as sune 's ye can."
"I'll du that, my Peter, the verra moment he wants to be forgi'en," said Malcolm.
But Girnel turned with a grunt, and moved away toward the cliff.