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Updated: July 9, 2025
For the Huns were gathering in eastward from the wooded western hills, and their sustained clamour filled the air like the unclean racket of vultures sighting abomination and eager to feed. McKay laid his loaded pistol beside him. "Dear Yellow-hair," he whispered. She smiled up at him.
He had figured it out in every possible way. But there seemed little chance to swim that icy water none at all with that man in the boat yonder, and detection always imminent if they left the Pulpit. McKay shook his head slightly: "He'd row us down and gralloch us like swimming deer." "But if one goes alone?" "Oh, Yellow-hair! Yellow-hair! If you only could!" "I can." "Swim it?" "Yes."
Christian or pagan, he would not speak one word to save his life. "Oh! tell him you are a Christian," cried Nell, running to the chief. "Yellow-hair, the Delaware is true to his race." As he spoke gently to Nell a noble dignity shone upon his dark face. "Injun, my back bears the scars of your braves' whips," hissed Wetzel, once more advancing.
Two men are lying in the scrub behind that fellow across the chasm. I am afraid they have grenades.... Are you ready, Yellow-hair?" "Ready, dear." "Go eastward, swiftly, two hundred yards parallel with the precipice. Make no sound, Yellow-hair." The girl cast a pallid, heart-breaking look at him, but he lay there without turning his head, his steady pistol levelled across the chasm.
Yellow-hair lay down, and there was no more trouble with him. Hut-keeper, too, seeing how matters were going, left off clattering his pots, and Frank was master of the field. "Very glad to see you, sir," says the neat man; "very seldom we get a visit from a gentleman in a black coat, I assure you."
"Your clan badge?" "I believe so." "You're a good Yankee, Kay. You couldn't be a good Yankee if you treated Scotch custom with contempt.... This jam is delicious. And oh, such scones!" "When we go to Edinburgh we'll tea on Princess Street," he remarked. "It's there you'll fall for the Scotch cakes, Yellow-hair." "I've already fallen for everything Scotch," she remarked demurely. "Ah, wait!
He took the man's lifted right hand, jerked it down and crushed it in a convulsive grasp: "It's good to see you.... We're in a hole deadlocked no way out but back!" he laughed nervously. "Have you any dope for us?" Gray's blue eyes travelled smilingly toward Evelyn and rested on the muzzle of the Winchester. And McKay laughed almost tremulously: "All clear, Yellow-hair!
"To-morrow, please." "But " "As long as you say that all is well I refuse to lose any more sleep!" "Are you sleepy, Yellow-hair?" "I am." "Aren't you going to sit up and chat for a few " "I am not!" "Have you no curiosity?" he demanded, laughingly. "Not a bit. You say everything is all right. Then it is all right when Kay of Isla says so! Good night!"
Sunlight crinkled Isla Water; a merle came and sang to her in a pear-tree until, in its bubbling melody, she seemed to hear the liquid laughter of Isla rippling to the sea. "Kay?" "Yes, Yellow-hair." Their voices were vague and dreamy. "Tell me something." "I'll tell you something. When a McKay of Isla is near his end he is always warned." "How?" "A cold hand touches his hand in the dark." "Kay!"
He caressed her hair while he spoke: "From here to Belfort," he was saying in his musing, agreeable voice, "and from Belfort to Paris; and from Paris to London, and from London to Strathlone Head, and from Strathlone Head to Glenark Cliffs, and from Glenark Cliffs to Isla Water, and from Isla Water to our home! Our home, Yellow-hair," he repeated. "What do you think of that?"
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