He could often have shot either Balgruntie or Saveall in daylight, but not without certain death to himself, as he knew that escape was impossible. Besides, time was not before so pressin’ upon them, an’ every day relief was expected. Now, however, that relief was so near--for Simpson with a party of royalists an’ Maguire’s men must be within a couple of hours’ journey--it would be too intrinsic entirely to see the castle plundhered, and the lady carried off by such a long-legged skyhill as Saveall. Nannie consequentially, at great risk, took an opportunity of slipping his gun to Suil Gair, who was the best shot of the day in that or any other part of the country; and it was in consequence of this that he was called Suil Gair, or Sharp Eye. But, indeed, all the Maguires were famous shots; an’ I’m tould there’s one of them now in Dublin that could hit a pigeon’s egg or a silver sixpence at the distance of a hundred yards.[1] Suil Gair did not merely raise the sluice when he set the mill a-goin’, but he whipped it out altogether an’ threw it into the dam, so that the possibility of saving the Hog of Cupar was irretrievable. He made off, however, an’ threw himself among the tall ragweeds that grew upon the common, till it got dark, when Saveall, as was his custom, should take his evenin’ smoke at the windy. Here he sat for some period, thinkin’ over many ruminations, before he lit his cutty pipe, as he called it. ‘Now,’ said he to himself, ‘what is there to hindher me from takin’ away, or rather from makin’ sure of the grand lassie, instead of the miller’s daughter? If I get intil the castle, it can be soon effected; for if she has any regard for her reputation, she will be quiet. I’m a braw handsome lad enough, a wee thought high in the cheek bones, scaly in the skin, an’ knock-knee’d a trifle, but stout an’ lathy, an’ tough as a withy. But, again, what is to be done wi Nannie? Hut, she’s but a miller’s daughter, an’ may be disposed of if she gets troublesome. I know she’s fond of me, but I dinna blame her for that. However, it wadna become me now to entertain scruples, seein’ that the way is made so plain for me. But, save us! eh, sirs, that was an awful death, an’ very like a judgment on the Hog of Cupar! It is often a judgment for the wicked to die in their sins! Balgruntie wasna that’---- Whatever he intended to say further, cannot be analogized by man, for, just as he had uttered the last word, which he did while holding the candle to his pipe, the bullet of his own gun entered between his eyes, and the next moment he was a corpse.