"Why don't you speak distinctly?" demanded the lady. "Aw--aw!--yaw--aw!" replied Dallas again. "The sound would seem to come from under that loose heap of rushes at the margin of the pool yonder," said the Pensassenach. "Oich aye, she's here memm," cried Morag, removing the covering from the packman's head. "Ya--aw!--aw--aw!" cried Dallas, raising his eyes with an expression of intense agony. "Ah, I see how it is," said the Pensassenach; "John has gagged him, to prevent his vile tongue from betraying me. Loosen that string, Morag, and take out the gag." "Oh, Heeven be praised that I hae fand freends at last," cried the packman in a hoarse voice. "Hech, my jaws are stiff, stiff, and sair, sair, wi' that plaguit bit o' a rung that John Smith pat into my mooth. Hech me! kind souls that ye are, pu' me oot, pu' me oot o' this, or I maun e'en drap awthegither owerhead into the pool, for I haena mair poor to stand on this ae leg o' mine, and I canna rest ony at a' on the short ane, mind ye, without sinkin' my mooth below the water. Och, memm, pu' me out!" "How can you ask me to assist you, base wretch that you are?" cried the Pensassenach; "you who would have sold my life to have saved your own. I shall push you as gently under the water as I can, but drowned you must be." "Oh, for the love o' Heeven hae mair charity!" cried the packman most piteously. "I'm a sad sinner, nae doot. But I'm a puir, wake, nervish craytur,--and fan that deevil incarnate, Captain M'Taggart, spak o' hangin' me, my brains whurled sae i' my head, that I didna ken what I was sayin'. But I'm sure I never thocht o' doin' harm till you or ony o' your hoose. Pu' me oot, memm; pu' me oot for the love o' Heeven, or the very life'll leave my legs wi' cauld." "Pull you out," exclaimed the Pensassenach; "pull you out,--you who would have helped the Highlanders to my murder: pull you out, who wilfully spoke treason, to aid, abet, and comfort the rebel Captain. My loyalty to my King and my country forbids me to assist you, and compels me to make a sacrifice of you immediately. So, prepare for instant death." "Och, hae mercy on my puir sowl," cried the packman in despair; "surely, surely, ye're no gawin' till droon me?" "What can you say in exculpation of your treason?" demanded the Pensassenach, laying hold of the upper part of the sack with both her hands, and giving Mr. Dallas a gentle shake. "Och, naething--naething ava," cried Mr. Dallas. "Oh, I'm a dead man--a dead man: hae mercy--hae mercy upon me. I'm a great sinner--a wicked, and hardened sinner." "Perhaps it were well to allow you a few moments, wretch that you are, to confess your sins and repent, before you are sent into the other world," said the Pensassenach. "So make haste--lose not the fleeting space of time which I thus mercifully grant to you, and lighten your soul of as much load as you can." "Oh, hae mercy--hae mercy on me!" cried Dallas.