It happened that a Tenchil, or a driving of the woods for game of all kinds, was one day held at Alnac. Inchrory was posted in a pass with Farquharson of Allargue and Grant of Burnside in Cromdale, who was one of Lord Fife's factors. This last mentioned gentleman, having only arrived at Mar Lodge that morning, knew nothing of Inchrory personally, though Inchrory knew something of him. So that, whilst Farquharson, who was by this time well acquainted with Inchrory and all his peculiarities, was treating him with all that respect, which was at all times paid him by a universal agreement among Lord Fife's friends then assembled as his guests, the little man was left quite unnoticed by Burnside, and treated by him as nobody. Inchrory was severely nettled at this apparently marked neglect on the part of Burnside towards him. As usual on such occasions, the people who had surrounded a large portion of the forest, gradually contracted their circle, and their shouts increasing, and the dogs beginning to range through the coverts, and to give tongue, game of all kinds came popping singly out through the different passes where the hunters were stationed. A short-legged, long-bodied, rough, cabbage-worm-looking terrier, of the true Highland breed, came yelping along towards the point where Burnside, Allargue, and Inchrory were posted near to each other. All was anxiety and eager anticipation. A hart of the first head was the least thing that was looked for. When,--lo, and behold, out came an enormous wild-cat, the very tigger of our Highland woods. Burnside had a capital chance of him, but fired at him, and missed him. Inchrory immediately levelled his piece, and shot him dead. "There's at you, clowns of Cromdale!" cried Inchrory, leering most triumphantly and provokingly over his shoulder at Burnside. "What do you mean by that, you rascal?" cried Burnside, firing up at this insult, and at the same time striding towards Inchrory with every possible demonstration of active hostility. "What do you mean by that, you little shrimp?" "Sir," said Inchrory, standing his ground boldly and proudly, "what do you mean? I know nothing of you; and, it appears by your insolent manners, that you know nothing of me." "Stop, stop, gentlemen!" cried Allargue, running in between them; "the fault is mine for having neglected to introduce you to each other. Burnside, this is Inchrory, the particular friend of the Earl of Fife;--and, Inchrory, this is Burnside, also a particular friend of your friend, the Earl. This, I hope, is enough to put a stop to any thing unpleasant between you."