ed, and the young savage quaffed off the draught, which could
not amount to less than three ordinary glasses. He then fetched another
ladder from the corner of the cavern, if it could be termed so, adjusted
it against the transverse rock, which served as a roof, and made signs
for the lady to ascend it, while he held it fast below. She did so, and
found herself on the top of a broad rock, near the brink of the chasm
into which the brook precipitates itself. She could see the crest of the
torrent flung loose down the rock, like the mane of a wild horse, but
without having any view of the lower platform from which she had
ascended.

David was not suffered to mount so easily; the lad, from sport or love of
mischief, shook the ladder a good deal as he ascended, and seemed to
enjoy the terror of young Butler, so that, when they had both come up,
they looked on each other with no friendly eyes. Neither, however, spoke.
The young caird, or tinker, or gipsy, with a good deal of attention,
assisted Lady Staunton up a very perilous ascent which she had still to
encounter, and they were followed by David Butler, until all three stood
clear of the ravine on the side of a mountain, whose sides were covered
with heather and sheets of loose shingle. So narrow was the chasm out of
which they ascended, that, unless when they were on the very verge, the
eye passed to the other side without perceiving the existence of a rent
so fearful, and nothing was seen of the cataract, though its deep hoarse
voice was still heard.

Lady Staunton, freed from the danger of rock and river, had now a new
subject of anxiety. Her two guides confronted each other with angry
countenances; for David, though younger by two years at least, and much
shorter, was a stout, well-set, and very bold boy.

"You are the black-coat's son of Knocktarlitie," said the young caird;
"if you come here again, I'll pitch you down the linn like a foot-ball."

"Ay, lad, ye are very short to be sae lang," retorted young Butler
undauntedly, and measuring his opponent's height with an undismayed eye;
"I am thinking you are a gillie of Black Donacha; if you come down the
glen, we'll shoot you like a wild buck."

"You may tell your father," said the lad, "that the leaf on the timber is
the last he shall see--we will hae amends for the mischief he has done to
us."

"I hope he will live to see mony simmers, and do ye muckle mair,"
answered David.

More might have passed, but Lad