k, intimated also that the individual was one
of those personal guards of young Eachin, upon whose exertions in the
future battle so much reliance was placed by those of their clan.

Having observed so much, Henry withdrew into his smithy, for the sight
of the man raised his passion; and, knowing that the Highlander came
plighted to a solemn combat, and could not be the subject of any
inferior quarrel, he was resolved at least to avoid friendly intercourse
with him. In a few minutes, however, the door of the smithy flew open,
and flattering in his tartans, which greatly magnified his actual size,
the Gael entered with the haughty step of a man conscious of a personal
dignity superior to anything which he is likely to meet with. He stood
looking around him, and seemed to expect to be received with courtesy
and regarded with wonder. But Henry had no sort of inclination to
indulge his vanity and kept hammering away at a breastplate which was
lying upon his anvil as if he were not aware of his visitor's presence.

"You are the Gow Chrom?" (the bandy legged smith), said the Highlander.

"Those that wish to be crook backed call me so," answered Henry.

"No offence meant," said the Highlander; "but her own self comes to buy
an armour."

"Her own self's bare shanks may trot hence with her," answered Henry; "I
have none to sell."

"If it was not within two days of Palm Sunday, herself would make you
sing another song," retorted the Gael.

"And being the day it is," said Henry, with the same contemptuous
indifference, "I pray you to stand out of my light."

"You are an uncivil person; but her own self is fir nan ord too; and she
knows the smith is fiery when the iron is hot."

"If her nainsell be hammer man herself, her nainsell may make her nain
harness," replied Henry.

"And so her nainsell would, and never fash you for the matter; but it
is said, Gow Chrom, that you sing and whistle tunes over the swords and
harnishes that you work, that have power to make the blades cut steel
links as if they were paper, and the plate and mail turn back steel
lances as if they were boddle prins?"

"They tell your ignorance any nonsense that Christian men refuse to
believe," said Henry. "I whistle at my work whatever comes uppermost,
like an honest craftsman, and commonly it is the Highlandman's 'Och hone
for Houghman stares!' My hammer goes naturally to that tune."

"Friend, it is but idle to spur a horse when his legs are ham sh