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"Ta togs! I'd ha' slit the weam o' ivery ane!" panted the piper.
"But are you much hurt? Anything broken?"
"Proken, dear laddie, son o' my sin auld Chief--proken all to pits.
Didna ye hear ta clash?"
"Let's carry him in," cried Max.
"Na, na, my bonnie Southron chiel'," said the old man, smiling at Max.
"Na, na, she can walk; put, Maister Crant, she could tak' chust a tram o' Talisker or Clen Nevis, for she's a pit shakken wi' coming town sae quick."
The lads helped the old man toward the gateway while Grant ran off eagerly enough for the whisky.
"Scoody, fetch a chair," cried Max.
"Lat her carry the auld man in," said Tavish.
"Na, na, let her pe. I want to see 'em--I want to see 'em," cried the old man, waving them off impatiently; and he limped to where his instrument, with the green baize bag and pennoned ivory-tipped pipes, lay on the ground.
"Oh tear! wae's me!" he moaned, as he stooped down and picked up the instrument. "Put ta enemies o' ta Mackhai listened to ta pibroch, and she turned and fled; put," he added, looking round piteously, "it was a pran new pahg, it was a pran new pahg."
"What!" cried Kenneth and Max, as a light struck in upon them, and the circle of sympathisers pressed round; "is the bag burst?"
"Purst!" groaned Tonal' mournfully; "ant I tried so hart to haud her up, but she couldna dae it, and come doon setting on ta pran new skin.
Tidn't she hear her co pang?"
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
"SUIT OF ANDREW BLANDE."
A shriek of hearty laughter rose as poor Tonal's naive question was heard, and the old man tucked his pipes under his arm, and then took hold of the sheath and raised his claymore to return it to its peaceful state; but, as he raised the glistening basket-hilt to the full length of his stretch, it fell from his grasp with a clang upon the stones; the old man's eyes closed, and he would have fallen, had not Max thrown his arm about his waist.
"Oh, Donald, old man!" cried Kenneth piteously; "I wouldn't have laughed if I had known."
"Whisht, laddie!" said Tavish. "Lat me tak' him;" and, raising the old man in his arms, he bore him through the gates and into the servants'
quarters. Here he was laid upon a bed, and the whisky Grant had brought applied to his lips.
"Oh, if we only had Mr Curzon here!" whispered Max.
"Nay, laddie, we dinna want him," said Tavish. "There's naething proken but ta pipes--nae banes. He's a bit shakkit i' ta pack. It's a coot way doon."
Just then the old man revived and looked round wonderingly, and his eyes flashed directly, as there was a loud barking again from the dogs.
"Dinna ye hear?" he cried; "dinna ye hear? Ta enemy of ta Mackhai!"
"Tavis.h.!.+ Scoody!" cried Kenneth excitedly. "Come on!"
"Na," said Scoodrach, grinning; "it's naething but ta togs."
"But the gates! the gates!"
"She shut 'em up chust noo, and it's ta togs that canna get in."
A watch was kept as soon as the old man had been ministered to, and Tavish seemed to be right: Donald had been terribly shaken, but no bones were broken. He displayed a good deal of solicitude at one minute, though, and looked round wildly.
"What is it, Tonal'?" said Kenneth, taking his hand.
"Gude laddie," he replied,--"gude laddie; but ta pipes--ta pipes!"
"You shall have a new set," cried Kenneth.
"Yes; I'll buy him a set," cried Max.
"Na, na. T'auld pipe is ta best. Lat 'em lay 'em here."
"Here?" said Kenneth inquiringly.
"Yes, laddie, here."
The old man's whim was gratified, and he dropped off to sleep with his arm round his instrument, cuddling it up to him on the pillow as if it had been a darling child.
Donald was left to sleep; and, under Kenneth's orders, all hands were set to work to clear away the traces of the fight, while Scoodrach was sent out to scout and bring back tidings of the whereabouts of the enemy.
The young gillie had recovered his sgian-dhu from where it had been thrown by Kenneth, and he ran off with alacrity, delighted with his task; while baskets and maunds were brought, and amidst plenty of hearty laughter the potatoes were gathered up, the women entering into the task heart and soul.
But, like Humpty Dumpty, the various earthenware pots that had fallen from the wall, even with the aid of all the king's horses and men, could not have been put together again, so Long Shon gathered the sherds into a basket, throwing one load into the sea, and coming back for another.
"I say, look here, Tavvy," cried Kenneth very innocently, after hurling a potato with magnificent aim at Max's back, and completely ignoring his inquiring gaze as the visitor turned round.
"Tid she call me?"
"Yes; we must have this old spar out of the way, for they may come back and have better luck next time."
"Hey, but they wadna daur come back," cried Tavish.
"I don't know, Tavvy. Anyhow, we'll have the spar where they can't get it. Where shall we put it?"
"She'd better pit it inside ta castle," said Tavish.
"Well, we'll all help you carry it. You'll help, Max?"
"Oh yes, I'll help," replied Max, offering the potato to Kenneth. "Do you want to throw this at any one else?"
"Eh? No. Yes, I do. I'll keep it for the bailiffs. I say, though, this is a rum game. Those people can't have any right to come like that."
"I don't know for certain," said Max; "but I'm afraid they have--if--"