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The air reverberated with Archie fire of a peculiar and unusual intensity long before he came within striking distance of the first zone. Tam saw the angry rush of the guardian machines and turned his little Nieuport homeward. "A'richt! A'richt! What's frichtenin' ye?" he demanded indignantly, as they streaked behind his tail. "A'm no' anxious to put ma nose where it's no' wanted!"
"Ye did richt tae resist him; it 'ill maybe roose the Glen tae mak a stand; he fair hands them in bondage. "Thirty shillings for twal veesits, and him no mair than seeven mile awa, an' a'm telt there werena mair than four at nicht. "Ye 'ill hae the sympathy o' the Glen, for a' body kens yir as free wi' yir siller as yir tracts. "Wes't 'Beware o' gude warks' ye offered him?
Tam turned the key reluctantly and admitted the visitors. "A'm no' wishin' to be unceevil, Mr. Brandspeth, but Captain Blackie will strafe ye if he finds ye here." "Rubbish! I want you to meet Mr. Laramore." Tam looked at the keen-faced young athlete and slowly extended his hand. "I think you know my sister," said the smiling youth, "and certainly we all know you."
Wayland came to himself hurled back a hundred feet knocked flat by an invisible blow. The old frontiersman lay clinging to a prone trunk spitting blood and gasping for air. The animals were scrambling to their feet saddles twisted, bridles broken. "'Twas the concussion of the air! A'm not hurt, not a feather o' my head hurt! A've seen it before in the Rockies! Look back," he panted.
"The gudewife was sayin' he wes never the same sin' a weet nicht he lost himsel on the muir and slept below a bush; but that's neither here nor there. A'm thinkin' he sappit his constitution thae twa years he wes grieve aboot England. That wes thirty years syne, but ye're never the same aifter thae foreign climates." Drumtochty listened patiently to Hillocks' apologia, but was not satisfied.
"A'm no' so fond o' th' new style," he said; "the detective stoory is verra guid in its way for hame consumption, but A' prefair the mair preemative discreeptions, of how that grand mon, Deadwood Dick, foiled the machinations of Black Peter, the Scoorge of Hell Cañon. A've no soort o' use for the new kind o' stoory the love-stoories aboot mooney.
'Bless yo', no, dunnot be afeared, missus; it's only as a spoke hasty to t' wench, an' a want t' tell her as a'm sorry, said Kester, advancing into the kitchen, and looking round for Sylvia. 'Sylvie, Sylvie! shouted he; 'she mun be i' t' house. Sylvia came slowly down the stairs, and stood before him. Her face was pale, her mouth set and determined; the light of her eyes veiled in gloom.
He looked down from the fuselage at the bright upturned face. "Oh, aye, it was me," he admitted, "an' A'm michty glad ye was lookin', for A' was throwin' stunts for ye." He was on the ground now, loosening the collar of his leather jacket. He stepped clear of the obstructing planes of his machine and looked anxiously toward the gentle slopes of the ridge on which the bomber had landed.
II. is as follows: A'm very unpopilar with the people, which is a great thing in itself, as a' think no man ought to be risen to the bench that's not unpopilar; because, when popilar, he's likely to feavor them, and symperthize with them wherein his first duty is always to konsider them in the rong.
I, for the magistracey: In the first place a'm not without expeyrience, having been in the habit of acting as a magistrate in a private way, and upon my own responsibility, for several years. A' established a kourt in a little vilage, which and this is a strong point in my feavor now-a-days which a' meself have depopilated; and a' trust that the depopilation won't be ovelueked.
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