"Certainly not if you do not wish it!" answered Alister, staying his step. "If I did, however, you would be quite safe, for they would not come near me. They would be off up that hill as hard as they could tear, jumping everything that came in their way." "Is it not very dull here in the winter?" asked Christina, panting a little, but trying to look as if she had known quite well he was only joking. "I do not find it dull." "Ah, but you are a man, and can do as you please!" "I never could do as I pleased, and so I please as I do," answered Alister. "I do not quite understand you." "When you cannot do as you like, the best thing is to like what you have to do. One's own way is not to be had in this world. There's a better, though, which is to be had!" "I have heard a parson talk like that," said Mercy, "but never a layman!" "My father was a parson as good as any layman. He would have laid me on my back in a moment--here as I stand!" said Alister, drawing himself to his height. He broke suddenly into Gaelic, addressing the more troublesome of the bulls. No better pleased to stand still than to go on, he had fallen to digging at his neighbour, who retorted with the horn convenient, and presently there was a great mixing of bull and harness and cloddy earth. Turning quickly towards them, Alister dropped a rein. In a moment the plough was out of the furrow, and the bulls were straining every muscle, each to send the other into the wilds of the unseen creation. Alister sprang to their heads, and taking them by their noses forced them back into the line of the furrow. Christina, thinking they had broken loose, fled; but there was Mercy with the reins, hauling with all her might! "Thank you, thank you!" said the laird, laughing with pleasure. "You are a friend indeed!" "Mercy! Mercy! come away directly," cried Christina. But Mercy did not heed her. The laird took the reins, and administering a blow each to the animals, made them stand still.