Again he raised his whip, this time plainly with intent. “For God’s sake, factor, min’ the mere,” cried Malcolm. “Ribs an’ legs an’ a’ ’ill be to crack, gien ye anger her wi’ yer whuppin’.” As he spoke, he drew a little aside that the factor might pass if he pleased. A noise arose in the smaller crowd, and Malcolm turned to see what it meant: off his guard, he received a stinging cut over the head from the factor’s whip. Simultaneously, Kelpie stood up on end, and Malcolm tore the weapon from the treacherous hand. “If I gave you what you deserve, Mr Crathie, I should knock you and your horse together into that ditch. A touch of the spur would do it. I am not quite sure that I ought not. A nature like yours takes forbearance for fear.” While he spoke, his mare was ramping and kicking, making a clean sweep all about her. Mr Crathie’s horse turned restive from sympathy, and it was all his rider could do to keep his seat. As soon as he got Kelpie a little quieter, Malcolm drew near and returned him his whip. He snatched it from his outstretched hand, and essayed a second cut at him, which Malcolm rendered powerless by pushing Kelpie close up to him. Then suddenly wheeling, he left him. On the other side of the trench the fellows were shouting and roaring with laughter. “Men,” cried Malcolm, “you have no right to stop up this road. I want to go and see Blue Peter.” “Come on,” cried one of the young men, emulous of Dubs’s humour, and spread out his arms as if to receive Kelpie to his bosom. “Stand out of the way then,” said Malcolm, “I _am_ coming.” As he spoke, he took Kelpie a little round, keeping out of the way of the factor, who sat trembling with rage on his still excited animal, and sent her at the trench. The Deevil’s Jock, as they called him, kept jumping, with his arms outspread, from one place to another, as if to receive Kelpie’s charge, but when he saw her actually coming, in short, quick bounds, straight to the trench, he was seized with terror, and, half-paralysed, slipped as he turned to flee, and rolled into the ditch, just in time to let Kelpie fly over his head. His comrades scampered right and left, and Malcolm, rather disgusted, took no notice of them. A cart, loaded with their little all, the horse in the shafts, was standing at Peter’s door, but nobody was near it. Hardly was Malcolm well into the close, however, when out rushed Annie, and, heedless of Kelpie’s demonstrative repellence, reached up her hands like a child, caught him by the arm, while yet he was busied with his troublesome charge, drew him down towards her, and held him till, in spite of Kelpie, she had kissed him again and again. “Eh, Ma’colm! eh, my lord!” she said, “ye ha’e saved my faith. I kenned ye wad come!” “Haud yer tongue, Annie. I mauna be kenned,” said Malcolm. “There’s nae danger. They’ll tak it for sweirin’,” answered Annie, laughing and crying both at once. Out next came Blue Peter, his youngest child in his arms.