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Old Mackenzie laughed a loud laugh of derision, that fortunately did not stop Lavender's execution of "I would that my love would silently." "What the teffle," said Mackenzie, "hef I to want a deer forest for my Sheila? Sheila is no fisherman's lass. She has plenty for herself, and she will marry just the young man she wants to marry, and no other one: that is what she will do, by Kott!"
He told stories of the odd old gentlemen of his club, of their opinions, their ways, their dress. He sang the song of the Arethusa, and the wilds of Lewis echoed with a chorus which was not just as harmonious as it might have been. He sang the "Jug of Punch," and Mackenzie said that was a teffle of a good song.
And he will say to John, 'John, ef I had known in time I should hef been born here. But no one will believe it iss true, he is such a teffle of a liar, that John; and he will hef some stories about Mr. Mackenzie himself, as I hef been told, that he will tell when he goes to Styornoway. But John is a ferry cunning fellow, and will not tell any such stories in Borva."
The teffle tek him I could hef given him the other barrel myself!" And still they seemed loath to leave the ground, notwithstanding the gathering darkness.
John was in a mischievous mood, but Lavender, in a confidential whisper, informed Sheila that her father would speedily be avenged on the inconsiderate piper. "Come, men, sing us a song, quick!" said Mackenzie as the party took their seats in the stern and the great oars splashed into the sea of gold. "Look sharp, John, and no teffle of a drowning song!"
"Bressently" then a long silence "effrapotty in my etsteplitchmendt" another long pause "hef yoost teh same ettechmendt to Mr. Richlun," another interval, "tey hef yoost tso much effection fur him" another silence "ass tey hef" another, with a smile this time "fur te teffle himpselluf!" An oven opened in the baker's face, and emitted a softly rattling expiration like that of a bursted bellows.
When he had finished he almost feared to turn round, and yet there was nothing dreadful in the picture that presented itself. Sheila was sitting on her father's knee, with her head buried in his bosom, while he was patting her head and talking in a low voice to her. The King of Borva did not look particularly fierce. "Yes, it iss a teffle of a good song," he said suddenly.
"That teffle of a piper John!" growled Mackenzie under his breath; and so the Maighdean-mhara lightly sped on her way, opening out the various headlands of the islands, until at last she got into the narrows by Eilean-Aird-Meinish, and ran up the long arm of the sea to Mevaig. They landed and went up the rocks.
In the midst of it all, when the night had come apace, what was this wild skirl outside that made everybody start? Mackenzie jumped to his feet, with an angry vow in his heart that if this "teffle of a piper John" should come down the hill playing "Lochaber no more" or "Cha till mi tualadh" or any other mournful tune, he would have his chanter broken in a thousand splinters over his head.
"Oh, I can't sing," John said sheepishly, when they urged him. "Tell us how it happened any way John," Bud Perkins said. "Give us the story of it." "Go on John. Sing about the cowboy," Peter Slater coaxed. "It iss a teffle of a good song, that," chuckled Tonald. "Well," John began, clearing his throat, "here it's for you. I've ruined me voice drivin' oxen though, but here's the song."
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