Infuriated by the man's disregard of her chief, Mistress Conal struck her nails into his face, and with a curse he flung her from him. She turned instantly on the other with the same argument ad hominem, and found herself staggering on her own weak limbs to a severe fall, when the chief caught and saved her. She struggled hard to break from him and rush again into the hut, declaring she would not leave it if they burned her alive in it, but he held her fast. There was a pause, for one or two who had accompanied the men employed, knew the chief, and their reluctance to go on with the ruthless deed in his presence, influenced the rest. Report of the ejection had spread, and the neighbours came running from the village. A crowd seemed to be gathering. Again and again Mistress Conal tried to escape from Alister and rush into the cottage. "You too, my chief!" she cried. "You turned against the poor of your people!" "No, Mistress Conal," he answered. "I am too much your friend to let you kill yourself!" "We have orders, Macruadh, to set fire to the hovel," said one of the men, touching his hat respectfully. "They'll roast my black one!" shrieked the old woman. "Small fear for him," said a man's voice from the little crowd, "if half be true--!" Apparently the speaker dared no more. "Fire won't singe a hair of him, Mistress Conal," said another voice. "You know it; he's used to it!" "Come along, and let's get it over!" cried the leader of the ejection-party. "It--won't take many minutes once it's well a going, and there's fire enough on the hearth to set Ben Cruachan in a blaze!" "Is everything out of it?" demanded the chief. "All but her cat. We've done our best, sir, and searched everywhere, but he's not to be found. There's nothing else left." "It's a lie!" screamed Mistress Conal. "Is there not a great pile of peats, carried on my own back from the moss! Ach, you robbers! Would you burn the good peats?" "What good will the peats be to you, woman," said one of them not unkindly, "when you have no hearth?" She gave a loud wail, but checked it. "I will burn them on the road," she said. "They will keep me a few hours from the dark! When I die I will go straight up to God and implore his curse upon you, on your bed and board, your hands and tools, your body and soul. May your every prayer be lost in the wide murk, and never come at his ears! May--" "Hush! hush!" interposed the chief with great gentleness. "You do not know what you are saying. But you do know who tells us to forgive our enemies!" "It's well for HIM to forgive," she screamed, "sitting on his grand throne, and leaving me to be turned out of my blessed house, on to the cold road!"