"Confound it, Hamish!" Macleod said, laughing, "leave all those things
till after dinner."

"Oh, ay, oh ay, Sir Keith, we will hef plenty of time after dinner,"
said Hamish, just as if he were one of the party, but very nervously
working with the ends of his thumbs all the time, "and I will tell you
of the fine big stag that has been coming down every night--every night,
as I am a living man--to Mrs. Murdoch's corn: and I wass saying to her,
'Just hold your tongue, Mrs. Murdoch'--that wass what I will say to
her--'just hold your tongue, Mrs. Murdoch, and be a civil woman, for a
day or two days, and when Sir Keith comes home it iss no more at all the
stag will trouble you--oh no, no more at all; there will be no more
trouble about the stag when Sir Keith comes home.'"

And old Hamish laughed at his own wit, but it was in a sort of excited
way.

"Look here, Hamish, I want you to do this for me," Macleod said; and
instantly the face of the old man--it was a fine face, too, with its
aquiline nose, and grizzled hair, and keen hawk-like eyes--was full of
an eager attention. "Go back and fetch that little boy I left with
Donald. You had better look after him yourself. I don't think any water
came over him; but give him dry clothes if he is wet at all. And feed
him up: the little beggar will take a lot of fattening without any
harm."

"Where is he to go to?" said Hamish, doubtfully.

"You are to make a keeper of him. When you have fattened him up a bit,