ered to himself. "Wha on earth
wad hae thocht that yon blin-ee'd, broken-doon-lookin soul o' a fiddler
wad hae turned oot a braw young swanky like that? Na, na, that'll no
do," suddenly added the laird, and now referring to the circumstance of
Jones being hard pressed by two of the intruders. "Twa on ane--that'll
never do." And the laird looked around him for some weapon wherewith he
might compensate the odds against his friend. Nothing of this kind more
efficient than the tongs presenting itself, the laird leaped down from
the table on which he had been perched in the quality of musician, and,
seizing the afore-mentioned instrument by the feet, advanced upon the
foe, shouting, "Stan to them, Jones! stan to them, lad! till I gie them
a taste o' the tangs!" And, in the same instant, he discharged a blow at
the head of one of Jones' assailants that laid him senseless on the
floor. Finding his first effort so successful, the laird repeated the
experiment on the prostrate man's companion with precisely the same
result. Down he went also with a fractured skull. "That's the way!"
shouted the laird, now greatly excited by his own destructive exertions;
"ca' them down like nine-pins! Soop them aff the face o' the yearth!"

At this moment, the laird's Io Paeans were interrupted by the entrance of
a party of the town-guard, whom Tromp had summoned to his aid. These
immediately seized on the intruders, as they were pointed out by the
latter--the fallen men having so far recovered as to be now sitting up,
although evidently sick and giddy from the effects of the laird's blows,
and looking, as he said himself, "unco white aboot the gills"--and
marched them off to the guard-house, to answer in due time to the
judicial authorities of the city for the breach of the peace of which
they had been guilty.

On the kitchen of the Drouthsloken being cleared of the enemy, an
investigation into the extent of personal injury sustained took place,
when it was found that this was, after all, very trivial, consisting
only of two or three slight flesh wounds, of which Musgrave bore two,
and one or two others one apiece.

"And now, laird," said Jones, addressing the latter, "what share of the
honours have you got?"

"Deil a scratch," replied the laird. "Feth, I didna gie them time for
that. I didna stan whilly-whain wi' them, wi' a bit shabble in my haun,
as ye a' did, but gied them richt knock-me-doon thuds at ance--sent them
owre like stots, an