“Just sae; it was a bra' shot; your hand was as firm, and your eye as steady then as any man's.” “I could do the feat this minute,” said Daly, angrily, as turning away he detached a heavy broadsword from the wall. “She was aye over weighty in the hilt,” said Sandy, with a dry malice. “You used to draw that bowstring to your ear,” said Daly, sternly, as he pointed to a Swiss bow of portentous size. “I had twa hands in those days,” said the other, calmly, and without the slightest change of either voice or manner. Not so with him to whom they were addressed. A flood of feelings seemed to pour across his memory, and, laying his hand on Sandy's shoulder, he said, in an accent of very unusual emotion, “You are right, Sandy, I must be changed from what I used to be.” “Let us awa to the auld life we led in those days,” said the other, impetuously, “and we 'll soon be ourselves again! Does n't that remind yer honor of the dark night on the Ottawa, when you sent the canoe, with the pine-torch burning in her bow, down the stream, and drew all the fire of the Indian fellows on her?” “It was a grand sight,” cried Daly, rapturously, “to see the dark river glittering with its torchlight, and the chiefs, as they stood rifle in hand, peering into the dense pine copse, and making the echoes ring with their war-cries.” “It was unco near at one time,” said Sandy, as he took up the fold of the blanket with which his effigy in the canoe was costumed. “There 's the twa bullet-holes, and here the arrow-bead in the plank, where I had my bead! If ye had missed the Delaware chap wi' the yellow cloth on his forehead--” “I soon changed its color for him,” said Daly, savagely. “Troth did ye; ye gied him a bonny war-paint. How he sprang into the air! I think I see him noo; many a night when I 'm lying awake, I think I can hear the dreadful screech he gave, as he plunged into the river.” “It was not a cry of pain, it was baffled vengeance,” said Daly. “He never forgave the day ye gripped him by the twa hands in yer ain one, and made the squaws laugh at him. Eh, how that auld deevil they cau'd Black Buffalo yelled! Her greasy cheeks shook and swelled over her dark eyes, till the face looked like nothing but a tar lake in Demerara when there 's a hurricane blowin' over it.” “You had rather a tenderness in that quarter, if I remember aright,” said Daly, dryly. “I 'll no deny she was a bra sauncie woman, and kenned weel to make a haggis wi' an ape's head and shoulders.” Sandy smacked his lips, as if the thought had brought up pleasant memories. “How I escaped that bullet is more than I can guess,” said Daly, as he inspected the blanket where it was pierced by a shot; and as he spoke, he threw its wide folds over his shoulders, the better to judge of the position. “Ye aye wore it more on this side,” said Sandy, arranging the folds with tasteful pride; “an', troth, it becomes you well. Tak the bit tomahawk in your hand, noo. Ech! but yer like yoursel once more.”