mparative failure, though he, better than most, could give that
outflung quiver of the foot which few can properly acquire, and without
which the dancer of the 'Highland Fling' might just as well go home and
go to bed. The great chieftain, having regarded these and other
performances with an observant eye, and having awarded so many marks to
this one and to that, declared the games over, and invited the
competitors one and all to a royal banquet.

It was a good deal more wholesome than most banquets, for it consisted
of a scone and a glass of fresh milk apiece--butter being as yet beyond
the means of the MacNicols. And it was a good deal more sensible than
most banquets, for there was no speech-making after it. But there was
some interesting conversation.

'Nicol, what did ye find in the dungeon?' Duncan said.

'Oh, man, it was a gruesome place,' said Nicol, who did not want to
make too little of the perils he had encountered.

'What did ye see?'

'How could I see anything? But I felt plenty on the way down; and I'm
sure it's fu' o' creeping things and beasts. And then when I was near
the foot, I put my hand on something leevin', and it flew up and hit
me; and in a meenit the whole place was alive. Man, what a noise it
was! And then down came the rope, and I fell; and I got sich a dour on
the head!'

'Nothing but bats!' said Rob, contemptuously.

'I think it was houlets,' [1] said Duncan, confidently; 'for there was
one in the wood when I was gaun through, and I nearly ran my head
against him. He was sitting in one of the larches--man, he made a
noise!'

'Ye've got your heads filled with nothing but witches and warlocks the
day!' said Rob, impatiently, as he rose to his feet. 'Come, and get
the things into the basket. We maun be back in Erisaig before the
_Glenara_ comes in.'

Very soon thereafter the small party made their way down again to the
shore, and entered the war-galley of the chieftain, the halyards being
restored to their proper use. There were no more signs of any squall;
but the light steady breeze was contrary; and as Robert of the Red Hand
was rather anxious to get back before the steamer should arrive, and as
he prided himself on his steering, he himself took the tiller, his
cousin Neil being posted as look-out forward.

It was a tedious business this beating up against the contrary wind;
but there was nothing the MacNicols delighted in so much as in sailing,
and they had grown to