Ballengeich, for during the meal he addressed most of his remarks to
the man on his left, although his advances were not as cordially
received as perhaps they might have been. The king showed no
resentment at this neglect, but concentrated his attention on the
business at hand.

When the eating was done with, the servants placed three large flagons
before their master and the two who sat on either side of him. These
they filled to the brim with wine.

"Gentlemen," said MacLeod, "it is a custom in this castle that our
guests, to show they are good men and true, each empty one of these
flagons at a draught, and without drawing breath. Will you then
accompany me to any toast you may care to name?"

"The wine I have already consumed at your hospitable board," said the
king, "is the best that ever ran down a thirsty man's throat; but if I
supplement it with so generous and instant an addition, I fear my legs
will refuse their service, even if my head retain sense enough to give
the command."

"That need not trouble you," said MacLeod, "for in the last hundred
years no man has insulted this vintage by leaving the hall on his own
feet. There stand your legs against the wall, Guidman of Ballengeich."

The king, glancing over his shoulder, saw standing against the wall a
row of brawny gillies, each two of whom supported a stretcher, whose
use was at once apparent.

"Very well," cried the king to his host; "give you a suitable toast,
MacLeod, and I will enter with you the rosy realms of the red wine."

MacLeod then stood up.

"I give you," he said, "the King of Scotland. May he be blest with
more wisdom than were some of his ancestors!" This he repeated in
Gaelic, and the sentiment was received uproariously, for the wine was
already making itself felt in the great hall.

If MacLeod had any design in offering this toast it did not appear on
the surface, and if he expected a hesitancy on the part of his guests
to do honour to it, he was disappointed, for each young man rose with
the rest.

"Here's to the king!" cried the one on his right, "and may he imbibe
wisdom as I imbibe wine." Then raising the flagon to his lips he
drained it dry and set it with a crash on the table again.

MacLeod and MacDonald drank more slowly, but they ultimately achieved
the same end. Then all seated themselves once more, and the drinking
continued without the useless intervention of further talk. One by one
the revellers sank under the tab