ould be attacked, and he measured
the distance that separated him from the peg whence hung his waterproof
with the pistol in its pocket. But the man restrained himself and
moved to the door. There he stood and cursed him with a violence and a
venom which Dickson had not believed possible. The full hand was on the
table now.

"Ye wee pot-bellied, pig-heided Glasgow grocer" (I paraphrase), "would
you set up to defy me? I tell ye, I'll make ye rue the day ye were
born." His parting words were a brilliant sketch of the maltreatment in
store for the body of the defiant one.

"Impident dog," said Dickson without heat. He noted with pleasure that
the innkeeper hit his head violently against the low lintel, and,
missing a step, fell down the loft stairs into the kitchen, where Mrs.
Morran's tongue could be heard speeding him trenchantly from the
premises.

Left to himself, Dickson dressed leisurely, and by and by went down to
the kitchen and watched his hostess making broth. The fracas with
Dobson had done him all the good in the world, for it had cleared the
problem of dubieties and had put an edge on his temper. But he
realized that it made his continued stay in the cottage undesirable.
He was now the focus of all suspicion, and the innkeeper would be as
good as his word and try to drive him out of the place by force.
Kidnapping, most likely, and that would be highly unpleasant, besides
putting an end to his usefulness. Clearly he must join the others. The
soul of Dickson hungered at the moment for human companionship. He
felt that his courage would be sufficient for any team-work, but might
waver again if he were left to play a lone hand.

He lunched nobly off three plates of Mrs. Morran's kail--an early
lunch, for that lady, having breakfasted at five, partook of the midday
meal about eleven. Then he explored her library, and settled himself
by the fire with a volume of Covenanting tales, entitled GLEANINGS
AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. It was a most practical work for one in his
position, for it told how various eminent saints of that era escaped
the attention of Claverhouse's dragoons. Dickson stored up in his
memory several of the incidents in case they should come in handy. He
wondered if any of his forbears had been Covenanters; it comforted him
to think that some old progenitor might have hunkered behind turf walls
and been chased for his life in the heather. "Just like me," he
reflected. "But the dragoons wer