and
partitions, such a rushing and thundering, that the house seemed in
more danger from within than from without; for the cattle were worse
to manage than the horses, and one moment stubborn as a milestone,
would the next moment start into a frantic rush. One poor wretch
broke both her horns clean off against the wall, at a sharp turn of
the passage; and after two or three more accidents, partly caused by
over-haste in the human mortals, Donal begged that the business
should be left to him and his mother. His master consented, and it
was wonderful what Janet contrived to effect by gentleness, coaxing,
and suggestion. When Hornie's turn came, Donal began to tie ropes
to her hind hoofs. Mr. Duff objected.

"Ye dinna ken her sae weel as I dee, sir," answered Donal. "She wad
caw her horns intil a man-o-war 'at angert her. An' up yon'er ye
cudna get a whack at her, for hurtin' ane 'at didna deserve 't. I
s' dee her no mischeef, I s' warran'. Ye jist lea' her to me, sir."

His master yielded. Donal tied a piece of rope round each hind
pastern--if cows have pasterns--and made a loop at the end. The
moment she was at the top of the stair, he and his mother dropped
each a loop over a horn.

"Noo, she'll naither stick nor fling (gore nor kick)," said Donal:
she could but bellow, and paw with her fore-feet.

The strangers were mostly in Fergus's bedroom; the horses were all
in their owner's; and the cattle were in the remaining rooms.
Bursts of talk amongst the women were followed by fits of silence:
who could tell how long the flood might last!--or indeed whether the
house might not be undermined before morning, or be struck by one of
those big things of which so many floated by, and give way with one
terrible crash! Mr. Duff, while preserving a tolerably calm
exterior, was nearly at his wits' end. He would stand for half an
hour together, with his hands in his pockets, looking motionless out
of a window, murmuring now and then to himself, "This is clean
ridic'lous!" But when anything had to be done he was active enough.
Mistress Croale sat in a corner, very quiet, and looking not a
little cowed. There was altogether more water than she liked. Now
and then she lifted her lurid black eyes to Janet, who stood at one
of the windows, knitting away at her master's stocking, and casting
many a calm glance at the brown waters and the strange drift that
covered them; but if Janet turned her head and made a remark to