ound from the bridge like the snore of a giant in
his sleep, and blending, with it, a low, deep, purring thunder like some
monster cat well pleased.

"Wullie," came a solitary voice from the far side, "keep the bridge!"

One ear went back, one ear was still forward; the great head was low and
lower between his forelegs and the glowing eyes rolled upward so that
the watchers could see the murderous white.

Forward the gray dog stepped.

Then, for the second time that afternoon, a voice, stern and hard, came
ringing down from the slope above over the heads of the many.

"Bob, lad, coom back!"

"He! he! I thocht that was comin'," sneered the small voice over the
stream.

The gray dog heard, and checked.

"Bob, lad, coom in, I say!"

At that he swung round and marched slowly back, gallant as he had come,
dignified still in his mortification.

And Red Wull threw back his head and bellowed a paean of
victory--challenge, triumph, scorn, all blended in that bull-like,
blood-chilling blare.

* * * * *

In the mean time, M'Adam and the secretary had concluded their business.
It had been settled that the Cup was to be delivered over to James Moore
not later than the following Saturday.

"Saturday, see! at the latest!" the secretary cried as he turned and
trotted off.

"Mr. Trotter," M'Adam called after him. "I'm sorry, but ye maun bide
this side the Lea till I've reached the foot o' the Pass. Gin they
gentlemen"--nodding toward the crowd--"should set hands on me, why--"
and he shrugged his shoulders significantly. "Forbye, Wullie's keepin'
the bridge."

With that the little man strolled off leisurely; now dallying to pick a
flower, now to wave a mocking hand at the furious mob, and so slowly on
to the foot of the Muirk Muir Pass.

There he turned and whistled that shrill peculiar note.

"Wullie, Wullie, to me!" he called.

At that, with one last threat thrown at the' thousand souls he had held
at bay for thirty minutes, the Tailless Tyke swung about and galloped
after his lord.

Chapter XIII. THE FACE IN THE FRAME

ALL Friday M'Adam never left the kitchen. He sat opposite the Cup, in a
coma, as it were; and Red Wull lay motionless at his feet.

Saturday came, and still the two never budged. Toward the evening
the little man rose, all in a tremble, and took the Cup down from the
mantelpiece; then he sat down again with it in his arms.

"Eh, Wullie, Wullie, is it a