As she came with the poker stiffly uplifted against the evening sky, Mistress McWalter looked exceeding martial. But, as Cleg afterwards expressed it, "A woman shouldna try to fecht. She's far ower flappy aboot the legs wi' goons and petticoats." Swift as a duck diving, Cleg fell flat before her, and Mistress McWalter suddenly spread all her length on the ground. Cleg instantly was on his feet again. Had the enemy been a man, Cleg would have danced on him. But since (and it was a pity) it was a woman, Cleg only looked about for an avenue of escape. Kit Kennedy pointed with his finger an open way round the milkhouse. And Cleg knew that the information was a friendly enough lead. He had no doubts as to the good faith of so sturdy a fighter as Kit Kennedy. He was obviously not the stuff that traitors are made of. But a sudden thought of inconceivable grandeur flushed Cleg's cheek. Once for all, he would show them what he could do. He would evade his pursuers, make his late adversary burst with envy, and wring the heart of Vara Kavannah, all by one incomparable act of daring. So he stood still till Mistress McWalter arose again to her feet and charged upon him with a perfect scream of anger. At the same time John McWalter closed in upon the other side with his hay-fork and his dogs. Cleg allowed them to approach till they were almost within striking distance of him. Then, without giving himself a moment for reflection, he wheeled about on his heels, balanced a moment on the brink, bent his arms with the fingers touching into a beautiful bow, and sprang far out into the black water. So suddenly was this done that the good man of Loch Spellanderie, approaching with his hay-fork from one direction, ran hastily into the arms of his spouse charging from the other. And from her he received a most unwifely ring on the side of the head with the poker, which loosened every tooth John McWalter still retained in his jawbones. "Tak' that, ye donnert auld deevil, for lettin' him by!" cried the harridan. "Ye let him by yoursel', guidwife," cried her husband, who did not often resent anything which his wife might do, but who felt that he must draw the line at having to welcome the poker on the side of his head. "Dinna come that road again, my woman. I declare to peace; had it no been for the hay-time comin' on, and few hands to win it, I wad hae stuck the fork brave and firmly intil ye, ye randy besom!" To what lengths the quarrel would have gone if it had been allowed to proceed, will never be known. For just at that moment the head of Cleg emerged far out upon the dark waters of Loch Spellanderie. Cleg Kelly swam nearly as easily in his clothes as without them. For he had cast his coat at the beginning of the fray, and as to his trousers, they were loose and especially well ventilated. So that the water gushed in and out of the holes as he swam, much as though they had been the gills of a fish. Indeed, they rather helped his progress than otherwise.