dispute which one of ye's the best. Here
will be a braw chance to settle it."

"Why, sir," said Alan, still addressing Robin, from whom indeed he had
not so much as shifted his eyes, nor yet Robin from him, "why, sir,"
says Alan, "I think I will have heard some sough of the sort. Have ye
music, as folk say? Are ye a bit of a piper?"

"I can pipe like a Maccrimmon!" cries Robin.

"And that is a very bold word," quoth Alan.

"I have made bolder words good before now," returned Robin, "and that
against better adversaries."

"It is easy to try that," says Alan.

Duncan Dhu made haste to bring out the pair of pipes that was his
principal possession, and to set before his guests a muttonham and a
bottle of that drink which they call Athole brose. The two enemies were
still on the very breach of a quarrel; but down they sat, one upon each
side of the peat fire, with a mighty show of politeness. Maclaren
pressed them to taste his muttonham and "the wife's brose," reminding
them the wife was out of Athole and had a name far and wide for her
skill in that confection. But Robin put aside these hospitalities as bad
for the breath.

"I would have ye to remark, sir," said Alan, "that I havenae broken
bread for near upon ten hours, which will be worse for the breath than
any brose in Scotland."

"I will take no advantages, Mr. Stewart," replied Robin. "Eat and drink;
I'll follow."

Each ate a small portion of the ham and drank a glass of the brose to
Mrs. Maclaren; and then, after a great number of civilities, Robin took
the pipes and played a little spring in a very ranting manner.

"Ay, ye can blow," said Alan; and, taking the instrument from his rival,
he first played the same spring in a manner identical with Robin's; and
then wandered into variations, which, as he went on, he decorated with a
perfect flight of grace-notes, such as pipers love, and call the
"warblers."

I had been pleased with Robin's playing, Alan's ravished me.

"That's no very bad, Mr. Stewart," said the rival, "but ye show a poor
device in your warbler."

"Me!" cried Alan, the blood starting to his face. "I give ye the lie."

"Do ye own yourself beaten at the pipes, then," said Robin, "that ye
seek to change them for the sword?"

"And that's very well said, Mr. Macgregor," returned Alan; "and in the
meantime" (laying a strong accent on the word) "I take back the lie. I
appeal to Duncan."

"Indeed, ye need appeal to naebody," said Robin. "