"I declare to ye, mem," said the Gillie Ciotach, in tones of the most earnest conviction, "that if I was to come across one of them d——d scoundrels—I beg your pardon, mem—I meant to say there was one or two bad men about here, that mebbe would tek a hare if they found her sitting in her form—or—or a salmon; and as sure’s death, mem, if I was to catch one of them scoundrels, I would bind him hand and foot with a heather rope, and I would fling him down in front of Hector’s cottage, and I would say ’Hector, off with him to Dingwall!’" This was almost too much of zeal. "Andrew," said she, slowly, and she looked at him, "I have heard it said that even you yourself——" "Me, mem?" he exclaimed, quick to repel this unspoken accusation. "Me, mem? Miss Stanley is not going to believe that! There’s a great many liars about here, mem, and there’s not one of them I would believe myself; and tekking away any one’s character like that! I would just like to brek the bones of any one that I heard talking like that about me—begooh, I would shove his teeth down his throat!" "Well, I won’t detain you any longer, Andrew," said she—and he drained off the whiskey, and smoothed out the ribbons of his Balmoral. "I am glad to hear that there is to be no more fighting or poaching; for I want the neighbourhood to have a good name; and there are plenty of other and better occupations for the young men." She went with him to the door. Suddenly something seemed to occur to the Gillie Ciotach. "Would Miss Stanley be caring for two or three sea-trout now and again?" said he, in a casual kind of way. Instantly she fixed her eyes on him. "Sea-trout?—where are you getting sea-trout, Andrew?" she demanded. "Do you mean to say you have a scringe-net?" For one brief moment the Gillie Ciotach looked disconcerted and guilty; but only for a moment. "Aw, no, mem. A scringe-net? Is it a scringe-net? Aw, I’m sure there’s no one would use a scringe-net about here!" he declared, assuming further and further an air of innocence as he went on. "The sea-trout?—well, mebbe they would be in the herring-nets—and mebbe a happening one would come on to the bait-lines—and—and mebbe the one way or the other; but if Miss Stanley not wishing to have them——" "Why, isn’t this the very time they go up the rivers to spawn!" she exclaimed. "And what a shame it would be to take them now!" "Indeed, indeed, and that’s the God’s truth, mem," said the Gillie Ciotach, with a serious air. "It’s at this very moment. And who would tek them? Who would put a scringe-net round the mouth of the ruvvers at a time of the year like this? Not a man about here, anyway. Aw, sea-trout?—who would think of tekkin sea-trout now? Well, good evening, mem; and I am thanking Miss Stanley for her kindness—yes, yes, indeed."