ower in the unknown places in the hills, and they
said to the young hunters and warriors, 'Aye be carrying steel, for
steel will sever all bargains,' but a skein-dubh is the best to be
carrying in the hills, for a devil will not come near the black-hefted
knife wi' a strong bright blade--no," and Neil Crubach smiled, and
looked among the red embers for his dreams.

And then, still looking into the embers, he began to speak in his
soft-voiced way--

"They're bonnie wee things, the Wee Folk, and merry as the lambs in
June.

"When my leg would be troubling me sorely in my mind, and me a lad fit
to break a man's back, and to fling the great stone from me like a
chuckle--ay, in these long-ago days, there was a lass, and, och, she
was just to me in my mind like the sun rising from the sea on a summer
morning, and I could have taken her away in my own arms, for I would be
fierce like my folk, in their hate and their love, and whiles I would
be feeling in me the wish to be killing her nearly just to watch her
eyes opening like the sky when the white woolly clouds are drifting
apart, and among the hills when I wandered I would be dreaming of
holding her in my arms, for they would be great arms in these old days;
and one day she came, and I told her all that was in my heart, and she
said never a word, but just put her white round arms on my shoulder and
her head on my breast."

For a long time he was silent, and I saw the servant lassies look at
one another, their terrors all forgot in the beauty of his picture, for
there was colour in his very tone.

"I would be carrying her in my arms, for was she not but a mountain
flower, but when I would have taken her up I saw her eyes with a great
pity in them for my lameness, and I felt hell rising in my heart, for
were not my folk straight in their limbs, and nimble as goats among the
rocks? and then she saw my face, and I think there would be black
murder in it, but for myself, not for my white flower, for Neil Crubach
I hated when my love looked on this poor limb (it was only a little
shorter, but I knew the pride that was in his race).

"Then my love looked into my soul.

"'Neil,' she said, and drew my head down to her--'Neil, my hero, take
me up,' and I took her up, and she lay curled in my arms, with her lips
at my neck, and then she whispered, 'Neil, you will not be angry if I
say it now.'

"'Never angry, mo ghaoil,' and my heart stopped to be listening.

"'I wish--I ju