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"That may be so, Shames, but it could not be a redskin, for he would be more likely to cram a scalpin' knife into my heart than an egg into my mouth." "Iss it not dreamin' ye wass, an' tryin' to eat some more in your sleep? You wass always fond of overeatin' yourself whativer Tonald."
We're aboot to draw the seine-net, ye see, an' Tonald Pane said it would be a peety, says he, to begin when ye wur awa', an' Muster Lumley agreet wi' um, an' sent me oot to seek for 'ee that's a'." "Come along then, Dougall, we won't keep them waiting." Nodding adieu to Waboose, I hurried away towards Fort Wichikagan, followed by the sturdy Highlander.
"Tonald," Black Hugh's voice sounded faint but clear in the awful silence "Tonald you will not be killing him. Remember that now. I will never forgive you if you will take that from my hands." The cry for vengeance smote Macdonald to the heart, and recalled him to himself. He paused, threw back his locks from his eyes, then relaxing his grip, stood up.
Shames, man, lend a hand to carry him to the fire, and plow up a bit flame that we may see what we've gotten." "Iss he tead, Tonald?" asked Dougall, in a pitiful tone, as he came forward. "No, Shames, he's no tead yet. Take up his feet, man, an' I'll tak' his shouthers." Dougall went to Salamander's feet, turned his back to them, and stooped to take them up as a man takes a wheelbarrow.
We heard both the Highlanders put their broad backs against the door and groan in Gaelic as they heaved, but they might as well have tried to lift the house. They caused the door to crack, however. "Wheesht! What's that Shames?" "We've splut the toor, Tonald." "Never mind; heave again, boys," cried Lumley.
"My friend," said Bane, softly, "if that wass not an evil speerut, I will be fery much surprised." "No, Tonald, it wass not a speerut," replied the other, as they returned to their fortress. "Speeruts will not be kickin' an' slappin' like that; they are not corporeal." While these scenes were enacting on the margin of Lake Wichikagan, Lumley and Mozwa arrived at the enemy's camp.
"Ou ay!" was the slow answer "But my name's no Tonald, it's just Jamie." Captain Derrick laughed jovially. "Beg pardon! Jamie, then! Did you see the yacht?" "Ou ay! I've seen her mony a day. She's a real shentleman." I smiled. "The yacht?" Jamie looked up at me. "Ah, my leddy, ye'll pe makin' a fule o' Jamie wi' a glance like a sun-sparkle on the sea!
Then the tune changed into the skirling bag-pipe lilt all Highlanders love and which we who know not the Gaelic profanely call "Weel may the keel row" and Tonald got down to his finest work.
He's been to school among thae Englishers, an' can use his fists, let me tell you." At this Dougall held up a clenched hand, hard and knuckly from honest toil, that was nearly as big as a small ham. Regarding it with much complacency he said, slowly: "An' don't you think, Tonald, that I could use my fist too?"
Martha, with her thoughts on the butter and eggs; Tonald McKenzie and big John with the vision of their lonely dwellings in the hills looming over them; Jim and Camilla; Tom and Nellie, hand in hand; little Billy, face to face with the long struggle and its certain ending. Little Billy's voice rang sweet and clear above the others
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