man,
but I honestly wish that the vile wretch who threw that spear had been
well gored by the animal in return."

"So do I, uncle," cried Rifle, warmly, "for I'm sure it wasn't
Shanter.--What do you think, Tim?"

"I don't know," replied the boy. "I hope it wasn't; but as Uncle Edward
says, it does look very black."

"Bah! You're black," cried Rifle, fiercely.--"You don't think it was
Shanter, do you, Man?"

"I don't want to think it was," replied his brother, thoughtfully, "but
it does look very bad."

This was while the captain had walked up to the house to order the
ladies to stay within doors, promising in return that he would be very
careful, and not run into any danger.

"Looks very bad!" cried Rifle, contemptuously. "I only wish I knew
where old Shanter was. I'd go and fetch him to make him tell you that
you ought all to be ashamed of yourselves."

"You need not trouble," said Uncle Jack, quietly, "for here he comes;"
and as the captain's brother spoke he cocked his double gun.

"And here comes father," cried Norman, excitedly. "Don't fire, uncle,
pray."

"Not if I can help it, boy, but look at the fellow; he has been painting
himself, and means war."

In effect Shanter's black body was streaked with white, as if to imitate
a skeleton, and as he came running toward them from the scrub below the
precipice, he looked as if his spear was held threateningly in one hand,
his club in the other.

As the black came running from one direction, the captain ran toward
them from the other, shouting to Uncle Jack and the boys to fall back,
while just then Sam German came out of the garden armed with a
pitchfork, the first thing likely to act as a weapon.

But Shanter was the swiftest of foot, and he was within twenty yards,
when Uncle Jack presented his piece and shouted: "Stop! Throw down that
spear."

Shanter hesitated for a moment, and then dug the point of his spear into
the ground, and ran up shouting: "Hi, Marmi, black fellow come along!
Kimmeroi--bulla, bulla--metancoly." (One, four, ever so many.)

The captain gazed at him suspiciously.

"Where?" he said.

"Black fellow all along," cried Shanter, who seemed to have quite
forgotten the past night's quarrel and the blow, and he pointed in
several directions across the precipitous ridge.

"You saw them?"

"Yohi. Run tell Marmi. Black fellow come all along, spear bull-cow."

Norman saw his father's brow contract, for the last words sound