ve him the trouble.--Here,
Janet, fess yer pot o' pitawtas. I'm gauin to toom the man's gun.
Gien he daur to muv, jist gie him the haill bilin', bree an a', i'
the ill face o' 'm; gien ye lat him up he'll kill's a'; only tak
care an' haud aff o' the dog, puir fallow!--I wad lay the stock o'
yer murderin' gun i' the fire gien 'twarna 'at I reckon it's the
laird's an' no yours. Ye're no fit to be trustit wi' a gun. Ye're
waur nor a weyver."

So saying he carried the weapon to the door, and, in terror lest he
might, through wrath or the pressure of dire necessity, use it
against his foe, emptied its second barrel into the earth, and
leaned it up against the wall outside.

Janet obeyed her husband so far as to stand over Angus with the
potato-pot: how far she would have carried her obedience had he
attempted to rise may remain a question. Doubtless a brave man
doing his duty would have scorned to yield himself thus; but right
and wrong had met face to face, and the wrong had a righteous
traitor in his citadel.

When Robert returned and relieved her guard, Janet went back to
Gibbie, whom she had drawn towards the fire. He lay almost
insensible, but in vain Janet attempted to get a teaspoonful of
whisky between his lips. For as he grew older, his horror of it
increased; and now, even when he was faint and but half conscious,
his physical nature seemed to recoil from contact with it. It was
with signs of disgust, rubbing his mouth with the back of each hand
alternately, that he first showed returning vitality. In a minute
or two more he was able to crawl to his bed in the corner, and then
Janet proceeded to examine his wound.

By this time his leg was much swollen, but the wound had almost
stopped bleeding, and it was plain there was no bullet in it, for
there were the two orifices. She washed it carefully and bound it
up. Then Gibbie raised his head and looked somewhat anxiously round
the room.

"Ye're luikin' efter Angus?" said Janet; "he's yon'er upo' the
flure, a twa yairds frae ye. Dinna be fleyt; yer father an' Oscar
has him safe eneuch, I s' warran'."

"Here, Janet!" cried her husband; "gien ye be throu' wi' the bairn,
I maun be gauin'."

"Hoot, Robert! ye're no surely gauin' to lea' me an' puir Gibbie,
'at maunna stir, i' the hoose oor lanes wi' the murderin' man!"
returned Janet.

"'Deed am I, lass! Jist rin and fess the bit tow 'at ye hing yer
duds upo' at the washin', an' we'll bin' the