The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1913-01-08
CHAPTER III.-(Continued.)

7 MADE no answer to that, but he
caught the hair at the back of ms
i head and gave it a pull,
Well" let's return to the farm,
he said, half sadly.
Are We not going to put the cat down
the laird's chimney" 1 asked, sur
prised.
mo, Rorie." And there was a stern
ness in his voice. 1T is ill-mannered
to be absent, knowingly, when guests
arrive"
With that we started back to the
farm house. Instead of going by the
road We crossed the Long Pasture and
surveyed the situation through break
in the hedge.
There was a fine uproar in the yard.
My father was standing in the doorway
with a tallow dip in his hand The
flame, blown fitfully by the breeze,
showed my mothers startled face over
his shoulder.
For why do you want the man, Mac
donald?' my father was asking.
That's business of minei" roared the
chieftain of the Kyles. Where is =
i tell We he is not In my house." said
my father angrily.
Have a care. Angus Maclean,"
snarled the Macdonald 1T has been
Hold your tongues" my father
Hold your ownI" beloved the chief
tain. Fine you will know the goings
and coming between yon blackamoor
and Mistress Mary. Not that 1 care
is naught but tinker's wench-"
As he had been speaking Don John
had been breathing hard and loosening
his sword. As the last words fell from
the Macdonald's foul mouth, my Span
lard tossed the coil of rope to me and
leaped through the break in the hedge,
into the semicircle of light.
The heather blackamoor-Don John
of Murcia!' he cried, sslutlng the Mac
donald with his blade "Chieftain of
the Kyles. come off that horse"
There was silence during long
breath; then Ronald Macdonald let his
rage and his tongue loose.
Seize the blackamoorI' he screamed.
Seize him, Hang himr'
The Spaniard's long thin sword Missed
through the air like sapling.
Stand where you are, meni" he cried.
To the Macdonald he continued, with
angry dignity:
MY lord, ask yourself If your con-
miration of the lady whose favor to me
has stirred your brute rage? II you are
a man of worth will you honor me and
the lady by fighting your own battles?''
Don Johns quiet, scathing manner
only served to increase the Macdonald's
rage. He beloved incoherently to his
men. two or three of whom leaped upon
the Spaniard.
Before | could see how it happened,
one of the men staggered back with
gurgling cry and his hands to his
throat, and Don John was engaging the
second. The duel was not prolonged.
Ny Spaniard's blade twirled like a
switch and down went the second man.
grooming terribly. The third man hest
tated about engaging SO clever swords
man and hung back
At that the Macdonald uttered a hor-
rible imprecation, scrambled from his
horse and drew his claymore. He bore
down upon Don John. swinging the
great two-handed sword and roaring:
Drop your weapon he cried in
Gaelic, ''for mean to hang YER
Don John. of course, did not under
stand the Gaelic. He leaped to one side.
The claymore whizzed past his head and
rose again with greater fury impell-
ing 1t.
i could see that Don John held little
chance against that long, blazing weap-
on: HIS light blade would have been
shfvered to atoms beneath il. / was
beside myself with terror for my friend
and, hardly knowing what / did, flung
the cat with all her strength at the
chieftain of the Kyles.
In another moment Don John was at
my side and We were running across
the Long Pasture as fast as we could
go. But had seen a cat impaled DIN a
claymore, and a number of men staring
at the phenomenon, all petrified with
amazement and superstitious terror.
And as We ran there came to our ears
a sound like the believing of a fright
ened COW.
Don John painted along at my side
with his hand on my shoulder. thought
he was exhausted. for as We crossed
the road and stumbled into the burn, he
stumbled and fell. But he was UP again
and We kept on running until we
reached the dark shelter OF the woods
on the Loeb Striyen side of the PENN
sula.
Sitting under the trees, we gradually
our breath. Then Don John
felt for my head and patted 1t.
The cat" he sailor rather, gasped,
the cat was-useful!"
1 began to laugh silently at the
thought of the cat landing SO neatly on
the Macdonald's sword-point.
We remained in the woods for a while
listening for sounds of pursuit: but we
heard none. Indeed, Ronald Macdonald
must have had his bellyful of shame
for that night.
''Rorie." said Don John, ''how old are
you?"
Eight" l answered, adding. proudly, |
Strange" said he. You have saved |
me at every turn. But the end is near, f!
| fear me-"
And why?' / asked.
1 cannot return 10 the FARMHOUSE,
for / am an outlaw. / have killed at |
east one man, and even If I had not |
tone so the truth is out"
yen be meaning Mistress Nary"
AYE, you rogue" said he, feeling in
he darkness for my ear. and pulling II. 1
is she yer lass?" ! said.
He did not answer for a bit; then he
aid:
AYE, that's IL, Rorie. She's my lass
Door lass. And I'm her lad-poor lad"
This was too much for my boys I'M
Outstanding of the world.
"Why does the Macdonald want to
jn YEP / asked presently. Mistress
Nary likes you best. gomerel could
zee that. Can he no get anither lass?"
He Iaughed-sadly-and patted my
read
After all. Rorie." said he, 'you are
ust eight-rising nine"
'Tt'll be time to gang hame." / said.
"Hame?" he echoed bitterly. There
5 no home for Don John. Rorie. lad. eX-
ept the woods and the moors-and
winter drawing on"
He explained how impossible II was