suffer. Twenty horsemen coming to its defense, were ambushed
"Let a young ox be driven in," he said.
Two men at once departed, running swiftly.
"Now, Sir Henry," said I, "do you shoot. I want to show this ruffian that I am not the only magician of the party."
Sir Henry accordingly took the "express," and made ready.
"I hope I shall make a good shot," he groaned.
"You must," I answered. "If you miss with the first barrel, let him have the second. Sight for one hundred and fifty yards, and wait till the beast turns broadside on."
Then came a pause, till presently we caught sight of an ox running straight for the kraal gate. It came on through the gate, and then, catching sight of the vast concourse of people, stopped stupidly, turned round, and bellowed.
"Now's your time," I whispered.
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freedom from doubt and questioning. Baynes had urged her
cringing housekeeper. “Could you not see the eyes of
He turned away, and Kelpie drew a small shaky breath. A
they entered the dark shieling, and frowned in puzzlement.
in which they are here mentioned, expressing their respective
“Shall we burn her now, Mac Cailein Mor?” asked one
was nothing valuable I was taking, but only a wee bit token
hymns regarding hellfire and damnation. If Kelpie had ever
stars and waiting. He had lain thus and there many nights
one of his retainers, thus destroying Kelpie’s last hope.
- and phlox that drew him to the perfumed air of the garden,
- And now all the household was running, and two husky men
- of Balquidder this many a year. She was ready to believe
- The Marquis of Argyll said something under his breath,
- before. For what was he waiting, or for whom? He heard
- at Ewen Cameron, who stood near with an expressionless
- than safety, Sheena. I wonder if you know about them. Was
- stood there while he crossed the room in three strides
- He strove to peer about him, but the feeble ray of the
- Kelpie tried to remember something she had heard at Glenfern.
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and phlox that drew him to the perfumed air of the garden,
servants. Ahead, the bowed backs graduated in rank, with
he had finished speaking. He groped to find her face in
of the stairs—not Argyll, but his tallness, his long
fit, often wandering along in the great flower garden that
door, and as she hesitated there, heart beating quickly,
from the torture and burning, if they didn’t search her
which was becoming harder and harder to wear. How she longed
the great caravan routes entering the Sahara from the south.
God’s will (which seemed indistinguishable from Argyll’s
