Breadalbane stood silent; the angry color fled from his face and it took on lines of cunning; his eyes shifted under their blond brows; he stroked his chin with his delicate hand and coughed musingly; then he glanced up with a return of his perpetual smile. “Weel,” he said, “I’ll come, Ardkinglass.” He turned and carefully locked away his papers; then preceded his kinsman down the great gaunt stairs. The Macdonalds stood in the center of the vast dining-hall, the old chief between his two sons; all three erect with their bonnets in their hands, all huge in height and build. The two young men were breathing hard, flushed and defiant, their eyes roving quickly from door to window; but the elder Makian’s fine old face showed a dignified, placid calm in keeping with his venerable appearance, a benevolent good-will showed in his bright blue eyes and his lips were curved to a kindly smile. Breadalbane, entering, gave him a quick glance, then stepped forward, motioning to Ardkinglass to stand back against the wall. The two young men swung round, black with mistrust, but Makian spoke in bland Lowland Scotch: “Ye will be wondering, why we make such a tardy appearance,” he remarked gently, “weel, it was the weather—was ower rough.” His manner utterly waived all thought of offense between them; he spoke as if the Campbells and Macdonalds had been friends for centuries. Breadalbane hitched his sword over his hip so that it lay nearer his hand. “Weel,” he answered thoughtfully, “I’ll no’ be denying that I was expecting Makian, though ’tis ower long since a Macdonald came to Kilchurn.” Makian waved his hand courteously as if he dismissed even the hint of an unpleasant subject. “Ye will be guessing our errand?” he said suavely. There was the slightest pause; Breadalbane measured the three huge Highlanders in their dark tartans with their dirks stuck through their belts, and the Highlanders eyed the Earl, slender in his Lowland suit of gray velvet with his left hand gently pulling his sword backwards and forwards. He was the first to speak: “Yea,” he said, “it will be aboot the coos ye have come, Macdonald.” Makian’s face was a pleasant blank. “The coos?” he repeated courteously. Breadalbane lifted his ash-gray eyes with a sinister flash. “The coos,” he answered, “and the bonnie pasture lands—they have been keeping ye, Macdonald, this mony year, I ken—I willna’ be mentioning the gould and siller, the plate and furniture and sic details—for I’m no’ doubting ye have come to return the coos.” “I’m no’ understanding,” said Makian pleasantly. “We hav’na’ ane coo in Glencoe.” His two sons emphasized the statement with a scowl, but the Earl was imperturbable. “Weel,” he remarked, “ye eat a muckle of meat in a fortnight—it is only that time since ye took a hundred fat coos—but I make no doubt that since ye have eaten them, Macdonald, ye have brought the siller to pay for them.”