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Ony drink. Ha! dere be noting like tea." "Wow! man, mind what yer aboot. Ye'll scald him," said Dougall, anxiously. "You hole yoos tongue," replied the carpenter contemptuously, "me knows w'at mees do. Don' wants no Scoshmans for tell me. Voila! Monsieur have swaller un peu!" This was true.
"Well, sur, Tougall went on, an' sure enough the very next step down he went up to the neck " "No, Tonald," interrupted Dougall, "it wass not up to the neck; it wass only to the waist. The nixt after that it wass up to the neck, but then I wass soomin'." "Ye would hey bin soomin' yet, Shames, if I had not pulled ye oot," said his friend. "Oo ay, Tonald Pane. That iss true, but "
"Dere is noting like a good souper," remarked Marcelle Dumont, the blacksmith, extending his burly form on the grass the more thoroughly to enjoy his pipe. "Shames Tougall," said Donald Bane, in an undertone, and with the deliberate slowness of his race, "what does he mean by soopy?" "Tonal'," replied Dougall with equal deliberation, "ye'd petter ask his nainsel'."
"I hope it's a coot w'an, Tonald, for the notions that usually git into it might stop there with advantage. They are not much to boast of." "You shall see. Just you keep talkin' out now an' then as if I wass beside you, an' don't, whativer ye do, fire into the bushes." "Ferry coot," answered Dougall.
Afterwards, being also a good mimic, he had made the subject a special study, with a view to attract geese and other game towards him. That he sometimes prostituted the talent was due to the touch of genius, to which I have already referred. When the crumpled-up organs began to recover, Bane said to Dougall, "Shames, this iss a bad business."
As she rose to go for the instrument to Salamander's room which had been made over to her a growling Gaelic exclamation made me aware of the fact that the faces of Donald Bane and James Dougall were beaming with hope, mingled with admiration of their countrywoman.
I gave the sled such an impetus that we overtook our chief, and upset him just as he reached the lake, causing him to collide with Donald Bane and James Dougall, who, seated on the same toboggan, were anxiously striving to keep their balance.
"That deserves punishment." He had crept on hands and knees to the edge of the bushes, and paused to contemplate the wide-open mouth of Bane, who lay on his back, and the prominent right ear of Dougall, whose head rested on his left arm.
But who shall describe the effect produced when she began to play, with the utmost facility and with deep feeling, one of the most beautiful of the plaintive Scottish melodies? Bane and Dougall shaded their rugged faces with their rugged hands to hide the tears that could not be restrained.
"Now, boys, sharp's the word; we will go to the help of our guide. But two of you must stay behind to guard our camp. Do you, Donald Bane and James Dougall, remain and keep a bright look-out." "Is it to stop here, we are?" asked Bane, with a mutinous look. "Yes," exclaimed our leader so sharply that the mutinous look faded.
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