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"Stories of the Border Marches"

"
"I'm not here to argue with you," cried the exciseman, getting
impatient. "You're my prisoner. I confiscate everything here. If there's
any resistance, I can summon help whenever I please. You'd best come
quietly."
"Oh, 'teed tat's ferry hard; surely to cootness very hard indeet. But
she wull no pe thinkin' aaltogether tat she wull pe driven joost like a
muckle prute beast either. Her nainsel' wull mebbes hef a wheen freends
tat could gie her help if she was wantin't. Could ye told me if there
wud pe ony o' them tat wad pe seem' yer honour comin' in here?"
"Not one of _your_ friends, my mannie. Nor nobody else."
"Then, by Gott, there wull pe nopody tat wull pe seem' ye go oot,"
shouted Donald in an excited, high-pitched scream, as he snatched a
heavy horse-pistol from behind the door, and cocked it. "If ye finger
either your swort or your pistol, your plood wull pe on your ain head.
She wull pe plowin' your prains oot."
A very different man this from the submissive, almost cringing, creature
of a few minutes back! Now, there stood a man with set mouth and eyes
that blazed evilly; the pistol that covered the gauger was steady as a
rock, and a dirk in the Highlander's left hand gleamed ominously as it
reflected the glow from the fire in the middle of the room.


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