ence boded no good. I shuddered as I gazed,
almost spellbound, on his evil countenance, rendered doubly ugly in the
uncertain light of the lantern. Suppose he should find me! I crept closer
into my corner now, and tried to draw the ivy round me. I dared not run,
for fear of being seen, for the moonlight was very bright indeed, and
M'Rae held a gun in his hand.

After a time, which appeared to be interminable, I heard Duncan invite the
men into supper, and slowly they clambered up out of the pit, and the
three prepared to leave together.

All might have been well now, for they passed me without even a glance in
my direction; but presently I heard one of the men stumble.

'Hullo!' he said; 'is this basket of fish yours, Mr. Mac?'

'No,' was the answer, with an imprecation that made me quake. 'We are
watched!'

In another moment I was dragged from my place of concealment, and the
light was held up to my face.

'A M'Crimman of Coila, by all that is furious! And so, youngster, you've
come to watch? You know the family feud, don't you? Well, prepare to meet
your doom. You'll never leave here alive.'

He pointed his gun at me as he spoke.

'Hold!' cried one of the men. 'We came from town to do a bit of honest
work, but we will not witness murder.'

'I only wanted to frighten him,' said M'Rae, lowering his gun. 'Look you,
sir,' he continued, addressing me once more, 'I don't want revenge, even
on a M'Crimman of Coila. I'm a poacher; perhaps I'm a distiller in a quiet
way. No matter, you know what an oath is. You'll swear ere you leave here,
not to breathe a word of what you've seen. You hear?'

'I promise I won't,' I faltered.

He handled his fowling-piece threateningly once again. Verily, he had just
then a terribly evil look.

'I swear,' I said, with trembling lips.

His gun was again lowered. He seemed to breathe more freely--less
fiercely.

'Go, now,' he said, pointing across the moor. 'If a poor man like myself
wants to hide either his game or his private still, what odds is it to a
M'Crimman of Coila?'

How I got home I never knew. I remember that evening being in our front
drawing-room with what seemed a sea of anxious faces round me, some of
which were bathed in tears. Then all was a long blank, interspersed with
fearful dreams.

It was weeks before I recovered consciousness. I was then lying in bed. In
at the open window was wafted the odour of flowers, for it was a summer's
evening, and outside we