Even to Edward, Fergus became fierce and sullen, quite unlike his former gay and confident self. It was about Flora that the quarrel, long smouldering, finally broke into flame. As they passed this and that country-seat, Fergus would always ask if the house were as large as Waverley-Honour, and whether the estate or the deer park were of equal size. Edward had usually to reply that they were not nearly so great. Whereupon Fergus would remark that in that case Flora would be a happy woman. "But," said Waverley, who tired of the implied obligation, "you forget Miss Flora has refused me, not once, but many times. I am therefore reluctantly compelled to resign all claims upon her hand." At this, Fergus thought fit to take offence, saying that having once made application for Flora's hand, Waverley had no right to withdraw from his offer without the consent of her guardian. Edward replied that so far as he was concerned, the matter was at an end. He would never press himself upon any lady who had repeatedly refused him. Whereupon, Fergus turned away furiously, and the quarrel was made. Edward betook himself to the camp of his old friend, the Baron, and, as he remembered the instruction he had received in the dragoons, he became easily a leader and a great favourite among the Lowland cavalry which followed the old soldier Bradwardine. But he had left seeds of bitter anger behind him in the camp of the proud clan he had quitted. Some of the Lowland officers warned him of his danger, and Evan Dhu, the Chief's foster-brother--who, ever since the visit to the cave had taken a liking to Edward--waited for him secretly in a shady place and bade him beware. The truth was that the Clan Mac-Ivor had taken it into their heads that Edward had somehow slighted their Lady Flora. They saw that the Chief's brow was dark against Edward, and therefore he became all at once fair game for a bullet or a stab in the dark. And the first of these was not long in arriving. * * * * * And here (I concluded) is the end of the fifth tale. "Go on--oh--go on!" shouted all the four listeners in chorus; "we don't want to play or to talk, just now. We want to know what happened." "Very well, then," said I, "then the next story shall be called 'Black Looks and Bright Swords.'" Carrying out which resolve we proceeded at once to the telling of THE SIXTH TALE FROM "WAVERLEY" BLACK LOOKS AND BRIGHT SWORDS IT was in the dusk of an avenue that Evan Dhu had warned Waverley to beware, and ere he had reached the end of the long double line of trees, a pistol cracked in the covert, and a bullet whistled close past his ear. "There he is," cried Edward's attendant, a stout Merseman of the Baron's troop; "it's that devil's brat, Callum Beg." And Edward, looking through the trees, could make out a figure running hastily in the direction of the camp of the Mac-Ivors.