“He's going,” Saunders informed the cap'en and Neil McNab between pigs,--“he's going to run Sandy 'Twenty-One' against your candidate.” Now between Neil and Sandy lay a feud which had its beginnings what time the latter _doctored_ a spavined mare and sold her for a price to the former's cousin Rab. “Yon scunner?” Neil exclaimed, using the very form of the elder's words, “yon scunner? I'd as lief ... as lief ... elect ...” “... the Apoos-tate,” said the Devil, though Neil thought that Saunders was talking. “Ay, the Apoos-tate,” he agreed. “It wad be a fine joke,” the Devil went on by the mouth of Saunders, “to run the Apoos-tate agin' his candidate. McCakeron canna thole the man.” “But what if he was elected?” the mariner objected. The Devil was charged with glib argument. “We couldna very weel. It's to be a three-cornered fight, an' Robert Duncan, brother to Tammas, has it sure.” “'Twad be a good one on McCakeron,” Neil mused. “To talk up Dunlop, who doesna care a cent for the eldership, an' then spring the Apoos-tate on him.” “'Twould be bitter on 'Twenty-One,'” the cap'en added. He had been diddled by Sandy on a deal of seed-wheat. “It wad hit the pair of 'em,” McNab chuckled, and with that word the Devil conquered. So far, as aforesaid, Saunders had been unconscious of the Devil, but going home the latter revealed himself in a heart-to-heart talk. “Ye're no pretty to look at,” Saunders said. “I'm minded to throw ye oot!” The Devil chuckled. “Janet's so bonny. Fancy her on the pillow beside, ye--scraggy--bones--freckles. Hoots, man! a nightmare!” Shuddering, Saunders reconsidered proceedings of ejectment. “But the thing is no posseeble?” “You know your men,” the Devil answered. “Close in the mouth as they are in the fist. McCakeron will never get wind o' the business till they spring it on him in meeting.” “That is so,” Saunders acknowledged. “'Tis surely so-a.” “Then why,” the Devil urged,--“then why not rig the same game on him?” “Bosh! He wouldna think o't.” “Loving Dunlop as himself?” The Devil was apt at paraphrasing Scripture. “Imph!” “It _would_ let me out?” Saunders mused. “Ye can but fail,” argued the Devil. “Try it.” “I wull.” “This very night!” It is a wonder that the sparks did not fly, the Devil struck so hard on the hot iron. “To-night! Ye ken the election comes off next week.” “To-night,” Saunders agreed.