meant--or it was afraid--and so I caught him by the back of the neck and
flung him out. I don't know anything more about him."

"Could he fly?" said the big-eyed Carry, who had been quite interested
in this tragic tale.

"I don't know," Macleod said, modestly. "There was no use asking him.
All he could say was, '_Come and kiz me;_' and I got tired of that."

"Then you have murdered him!" said the elder sister in an awestricken
voice; and she pretended to withdraw a bit from him. "I don't believe in
the Macleods having become civilized, peaceable people. I believe they
would have no hesitation in murdering any one that was in their way."

"Oh, Miss White," said he, in protest, "you must forget what I told you
about the Macleods; and you must really believe they were no worse than
the others of the same time. Now I was thinking of another story the
other day, which I must tell you--"

"Oh, pray, don't," she said, "if it is one of those terrible legends--"

"But I must tell you," said he, "because it is about the Macdonalds; and
I want to show you that we had not all the badness of those times. It
was Donald Gorm Mor; and his nephew Hugh Macdonald, who was the heir to
the chieftainship, he got a number of men to join him in a conspiracy to
have his uncle murdered. The chief found it out, and forgave him. That
was not like a Macleod," he admitted, "for I never heard of a Macleod of
those days forgiving anybody. But again Hugh Macdonald engaged in a
conspiracy; and then Donald Gorm Mor thought he would put an end to the
nonsense. What did he do? He put his nephew into a deep and foul