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Syne cam the soon' o' moanin' an' greitin' an' prayin'. "The neist meenute they war back again amo' the lave, luikin' like twa corps. "Er' lang they bethoucht themsels, an twa o' them set oot an aff thegither for the priory that's whaur yer ain hoose o' Lossie noo stan's, my lord, to fess a priest.
I alluz tries ter do my duty, suh, an' stan' by dem dat stan's by me. Dat low-down nigger oughter be lynch', suh, don't you think, er e'se bu'nt? Dere ain' nothin' too bad ter happen ter 'im." "No doubt he will be punished as he deserves, Jerry," returned the general, "and we will see that you are suitably rewarded. Go across the street and get me three Calhoun cocktails.
"It stan's to rizzon, my lord," answered Malcolm, "that what's ill made maun be made ower again. There's a day comin' whan a' 'at's wrang 'll be set richt, ye ken." "And the crooked made straight," suggested the marquis laughing. "Doobtless, my lord. He'll be strauchtit oot bonny that day," said Malcolm with absolute seriousness. "Bah!
"Stan Rogers has written me that I'm to scrape the regular crowd together and come up to his new Canadian lodge for a hunt. Stag affair, you know. Real sport and no pink-coat pretense." "Sorry, Nick," said Bobby, pluming himself a trifle upon his steadfastness to duty, "but I know what Stan's stag affairs are like.
"Look here," he said to Dick, "will you promise me fair play?" "Dey wont nobody interfere widjer," Dick replied. "I'll be de empire, an' I t'ink I kin referee a mill 'long er de bes'. Sail right in, ole gent. The gurl stan's fer de di'mun' belt. If you knocks out yer man, she's yourn. If he licks you, an' has any strength left, he kin go on wid his wallopin'."
'Twas a mighty small capital to start with, an' he didn't give 'im any chance to try it over; but what bothers me the most is about the man's trav'lin' into a fur country. They hadn't no chance to talk with 'im about it, and git his notions. It stan's to reason that the feller with one talent would think his master was stingy, and be riled over it."
The dragon went out softly, approached the bed, raised his club, and struck one blow on the spot where Stan's head ought to have been. The trough sounded hollow, Stan groaned, and the dragon tiptoed back again. Stan then crept out from under the bed, cleaned it, and lay down, but was wise enough not to close an eye all night long.
In mild surprise he tapped it with his knuckles, and almost started at the hollow sound it returned. "What can there be ahin' the bureau, father?" he asked, re-entering the room. "I dinna ken o' onything," answered the laird. "The desk stan's close again' the wa', does na't?" "Ay, but the wa' 's timmer, an' soon's how."
"Why, even yo' should know so much," the boy sneered. The little man could not fail to understand. "So that's it!" he said. Then, in a scream, with one finger pointing to the great dog: "And what o' him? What'll ma Wullie be doin' the while? Tell me that, and ha' a care! Mind ye, he stan's here hearkenin'!" And, indeed, the Tailless Tyke was bristling for battle.
The way, though really not far, was yet too long for Stan, but at length he heard his children's voices, and stopped short. He did not wish the dragon to know where he lived, lest some day he should come to take back his treasure. Was there nothing he could say to get rid of the monster? Suddenly an idea came into Stan's head, and he turned round. 'I hardly know what to do, said he.
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