Next he took hold of the paper, thrust his hand into his coat tail, pulled out a ragged red cotton handkerchief, and blew his nose.

Max burst into a roar of laughter, in which Kenneth joined, for to both lads the sounding blast which followed suggested that this was the enemy's trumpet summoning them to surrender.

The man stared, and one of his followers touched him on the shoulder.

"They're haeing the laugh at ye, mon," he said.

"Haud yer gab. They'll be laughing the ither side o' the mooth sune."

He walked right up toward the gate, and then started, for Kenneth shouted, "Hallo!" in a sharp, half-menacing way.

"Mr Mackhai at home?" said the man.

"No, he is not. What do you want?"

"Mr Mackhai."

"Well, you can't see him; he's out. I'm his son."

"Then ye'll just come doon and show me the way in."

"You mean the way out."

"Oh no, I don't, my whipper-snapper. Is this the way?"

"No."

"Then which is?" said the man, looking to right and left.

"There is no way in for you," said Kenneth; and a murmur of applause followed the words.

"Look ye here, my lad," said the man, holding out his paper. "D'ye see this?"

"Oh yes, I can see it," cried Kenneth. "Here, Scoody, this gentleman wants a light for his pipe; throw him a box of matches."

"No nonsense, please," cried the man. "I come in the name of the law.

Sandy, gang and ope that gate."

"Gin ye gang that gate," roared Tavish, "I'll break the head o' ye."

The man who had stepped forward, started back at this menacing warning, for Tavish suddenly appeared standing up like a giant near the gateway, with something which looked like a great stone in his hand.

"Put that doon, mon," cried the bailiff. "Ye'll be getting into trouble. Now, young sir, come doon and ope the gate, and read this paper. I take possession here in the name of the law."

"All right!" cried Kenneth mockingly. "Take away."

There was a laugh, and Kenneth shouted again,--

"Hi, Grant! you can show him how to take away."

"Are you going to open these gates, sir, and let us in?" cried the bailiff, as soon as a hearty laugh had subsided.

"No."

"Are you going to tell your men to open, then?"

"No, I'm not."

"Do you know that you are resisting the law, young sir?"

"No, but I know I'm resisting you."

"By this paper I have proper warrant to take possession of all here."

"Have you? Well, I don't care what warrant you have. My father's out, and I'm not going to let a set of ragged-looking Southroners come and do what they please in Dunroe."

"I tell you, I have a proper warrant for taking possession."

"Then put it back in your pocket, and come again when my father's at home."

"Look here, me laddie, it'll be a bad day's wark for ye, if ye resist the law."

"You be off, and come again when my father's at home, I tell you."

"I've come a' these lang miles, me laddie, and I'm no' gaeing back wi'out takking possession. Noo, ance mair, will ye open the gates?"

"No."

"Then we must break them in."

"Mind we don't break your head in, then, that's all."

"If ye daur!"

"Oh, we daur. Don't we, Scood?"

"Oh ay," roared the young gillie.

The bailiff walked back to his men, whispered a few orders, and then turned once more to Kenneth, who was standing now well in sight on the crumbling battlements, with Max by his side.

"Noo, my laddie, let's hae a' this bet o' besness settled doucely.

Ye'll come doon and open the gates?"

"No surrender!" cried Kenneth.

"Ye'll hae the gates opened?"

"No; so blow your trumpet again. Defiance! There!"