He waited until I was done, and then said, very gravely, "Well, 'pon my word! but I'm rejoiced that I've found my way to your funny-bone at last. But if the sight of a fist like this and a foot like that are the only approaches to a Highlander's sense of humour—and I am bound to apply the back of the one and the toe of the other whenever I am forced to a jest—I take it, my better part is to make poor Captain Lynch a sad dog like yourself."
"Mr. McKenzie," he ran on, addressing our guide, who, it was plain to see, was much puzzled at our behaviour, "are you much given to humour in these parts?"
"No sir," he answered, "none that I ever heard of."
"Then why in the name of the Isle of Man did you take up with that creature you brought on board ship?"
Seeing the poor man was bewildered, I explained that his companion, Mr. Graeme, was meant.
"Och, him—-he would just be coming to Colin Dearg with the others after the battle."
"Is that old Colin Dearg, Laggy?" I asked.
"None other," he answered; "and it is to him, very probable, that Ardloch will be sending you."
Ardloch, I explained to Father O'Rourke, was a Mr. McKenzie, to whose place we were bound, and Colin Dearg, or Red Colin, another, both staunch Jacobites.
"Well, well, 'tis a puzzlesome country this, where the men not only do without breeches, but throw off as well the names their fathers gave them; had I known more, I needn't have used such punctilio in borrowing the Captain's. Would not O'Rourke of Brefni, or just Brefni, tout court, have a grand sound; seeing it wouldn't be decent for me to go in petticoats, and I am anxious to make a good impression?"