"Troth, I fear there may be too much reason for it, Monkbarns;—and yet let us hope the best. The accident is said to have happened in the Rattray reef of rocks, about twenty miles to the northward, near Dirtenalan Bay—I have sent to inquire about it—and your nephew run out himself as if he had been flying to get the Gazette of a victory." Here Hector entered, exclaiming as he came in, "I believe it's all a damned lie—I can't find the least authority for it, but general rumour." "And pray, Mr. Hector," said his uncle, "if it had been true, whose fault would it have been that Lovel was on board?" "Not mine, I am sure," answered Hector; "it would have been only my misfortune." "Indeed!" said his uncle, "I should not have thought of that." "Why, sir, with all your inclination to find me in the wrong," replied the young soldier, "I suppose you will own my intention was not to blame in this case. I did my best to hit Lovel, and if I had been successful, 'tis clear my scrape would have been his, and his scrape would have been mine." "And whom or what do you intend to hit now, that you are lugging with you that leathern magazine there, marked Gunpowder?" "I must be prepared for Lord Glenallan's moors on the twelfth, sir," said M'Intyre. "Ah, Hector! thy great chasse, as the French call it, would take place best— Omne cum Proteus pecus agitaret altos Visere montes— Could you meet but with a martial phoca, instead of an unwarlike heath-bird." "The devil take the seal, sir, or phoca, if you choose to call it so! It's rather hard one can never hear the end of a little piece of folly like that." "Well, well," said Oldbuck, "I am glad you have the grace to be ashamed of it—as I detest the whole race of Nimrods, I wish them all as well matched. Nay, never start off at a jest, man—I have done with the phoca—though, I dare say, the Bailie could tell us the value of seal-skins just now." "They are up," said the magistrate, "they are well up—the fishing has been unsuccessful lately." "We can bear witness to that," said the tormenting Antiquary, who was delighted with the hank this incident had given him over the young sportsman: One word more, Hector, and We'll hang a seal-skin on thy recreant limbs. Aha, my boy! Come, never mind it; I must go to business.—Bailie, a word with you: you must take bail—moderate bail, you understand—for old Ochiltree's appearance." "You don't consider what you ask," said the Bailie; "the offence is assault and robbery." "Hush! not a word about it," said the Antiquary. "I gave you a hint before—I will possess you more fully hereafter—I promise you, there is a secret." "But, Mr. Oldbuck, if the state is concerned, I, who do the whole drudgery business here, really have a title to be consulted, and until I am"—