liar and well-remembered
instrument, I believe every man there felt a tendency to worship her.
But who shall describe the effect produced when she began to play, with
the utmost facility and with deep feeling, one of the most beautiful of
the plaintive Scottish melodies? Bane and Dougall shaded their rugged
faces with their rugged hands to hide the tears that could not be
restrained. Lumley, whose mind, although untouched by associations, was
peculiarly susceptible to sweet sounds, sat entranced. So did Big
Otter, who could only glare; because instrument, tune, and performer,
were alike new and magical to him. Even Salamander forgot his jealousy
and almost collapsed with wonder. As for Dumont, Coppet, and the
others--they clasped their hands, opened their eyes and mouths, and
simply drank it in.

There was no applause when the air ceased, but a deep sigh from every
one seemed to be the indication of a return to ordinary consciousness.
Waboose and her mother did not sigh, however. They sat still and gazed
in silent wonder. Jessie Macnab, with a slight blush at the unexpected
effect, ran her fingers lightly over the keys of her instrument, and
then suddenly began to play a Highland reel with tremendous vigour!

If an electric shock had traversed the marrow or our backbones, the
result could not have been more surprising.

"Wow! Tougall, man!" exclaimed Bane, starting up and flinging away his
chair.

Dougall said nothing, but he uttered a Celtic yell suggestive of war and
all its horrors to Big Otter, and, starting up, began the Highland fling
opposite to his friend in the most violent manner. As I was not a bad
dancer of Scots' reels myself, and the music had caused me also to boil
over, I started up likewise and faced Macnab, who, being equally
affected, stood up to me in a moment, and away we went, hammer and
tongs, with stamp and whoop and snap of finger--oh! the scene is
indescribable. Indeed, I may say that to an ordinary civilised man who
never saw it, the scene is inconceivable, so--we will pass on.

While these stirring events were taking place inside the hall, a
black-faced, red-painted savage was flattening his ugly nose against a
pane of glass outside one of the windows. It was Attick, whom our chief
had convicted of stealing about the time of our arrival. That
unpleasant savage had never forgiven Lumley, and, being exceedingly
vindictive, had resolved to murder him! With this end in view, he