at ye will dree the fate of the women of
Midian, of whom it is written that they were slaughtered and spared
not."

The girl did not look his way. She had her coaxing eyes on her halting
maid. "Come, Janet, woman," she said again. "It's no job for a decent
lass to be wandering at the tail of a crazy warlock."

The word roused Muckle John to fury. He sprang forward, caught the
sorrel's bridle, and swung it round. The girl did not move, but looked
him square in the face, the young eyes fronting his demoniac glower.
Then very swiftly her arm rose, and she laid the lash of her whip
roundly over his shoulders.

The man snarled like a beast, leaped back and plucked from his seaman's
belt a great horse-pistol. I heard the click of it cocking, and the
next I knew it was levelled at the girl's breast. The sight of her and
the music of her voice had so enthralled me that I had made no plan as
to my own conduct. But this sudden peril put fire into my heels, and in
a second I was at his side. I had brought from home a stout shepherd's
staff, with which I struck the muzzle upwards. The pistol went off in a
great stench of powder, but the bullet wandered to the clouds.

Muckle John let the thing fall into the moss, and plucked another
weapon from his belt. This was an ugly knife, such as a cobbler uses
for paring hides. I knew the seaman's trick of throwing, having seen
their brawls at the pier of Leith, and I had no notion for the steel in
my throat. The man was far beyond me in size and strength, so I dared
not close with him. Instead, I gave him the point of my staff with all
my power straight in the midriff. The knife slithered harmlessly over
my shoulder, and he fell backwards into the heather.

There was no time to be lost, for the whole clan came round me like a
flock of daws. One of the men, the slim lad, had a pistol, but I saw by
the way he handled it that it was unprimed. I was most afraid of the
women, who with their long claws would have scratched my eyes out, and
I knew they would not spare the girl. To her I turned anxiously, and,
to my amazement, she was laughing. She recognized me, for she cried
out, "Is this the way to Kirknewton, sir?" And all the time she
shook with merriment. In that hour I thought her as daft as the
Sweet-Singers, whose nails were uncommonly near my cheek.

I got her bridle, tumbled over the countryman with a kick, and forced
her to the edge of the sheepfold. But she wheeled round again, c