the
score of years; for the moment, however, there was urgent business on
hand. For outside he could hear the quick patter of feet hard-galloping,
and the scurry of a huge creature racing madly to a call.

With a bound he sprang at the open door; and again the strap came
lashing down, and a wild voice:

"Quick, Wullie! For God's sake, quick!"

David slammed the door to. It shut with a rasping snap; and at the same
moment a great body from without thundered against it with terrific
violence, and a deep voice roared like the sea when thwarted of its
prey.

"Too late, agin!" said David, breathing hard; and shot the bolt home
with a clang. Then he turned on his father.

"Noo," said he, "man to man!"

"Ay," cried the other, "father to son!"

The little man half turned and leapt at the old musketoon hanging on the
wall. He missed it, turned again, and struck with the strap full at
the other's face. David caught the falling arm at the wrist, hitting it
aside with such tremendous force that the bone all but snapped. Then
he smote his father a terrible blow on the chest, and the little man
staggered back, gasping, into the corner; while the strap dropped from
his numbed fingers.

Outside Red Wull whined and scratched; but the two men paid no heed.

David strode forward; there was murder in his face. The little man
saw it: his time was come; but his bitterest foe never impugned Adam
M'Adam's courage.

He stood huddled in the corner, all dishevelled, nursing one arm with
the other, entirely unafraid.

"Mind, David," he said, quite calm, "murder 'twill be, not
manslaughter."

"Murder 'twill be," the boy answered, in thick, low voice, and was
across the room.

Outside Red Wull banged and clawed high up on the door with impotent
pats.

The little man suddenly slipped his hand in his pocket, pulled out
something, and flung it. The missile pattered on his son's face like a
rain-drop on a charging bull, and David smiled as he came on. It dropped
softly on the table at his side; he looked down and--it was the face of
his mother which gazed up at him!

"Mither!" he sobbed, stopping short. "Mither! Ma God, ye saved him--and
me!"

He stood there, utterly unhinged, shaking and whimpering.

It was some minutes before he pulled himself together; then he walked to
the wall, took down a pair of shears, and seated himself at the table,
still trembling. Near him lay the miniature, all torn and crumpled, and
beside it the