"What is it ye waant here?" growled McKelvie with a lowerin' look, and there was silence from the others; and the men put their drink down where it would not spill if there should be a scrimmage. Dol Beag put a hand to his beard, and his shifty eyes fixed on the innkeeper.
"Ceevility," says he, "from a man in the public. I'm wantin' that, and I'll be payin' for whatever drink I'll tak. Put a refreshment before me, McKelvie, and go back again to your affairs."
There's no denying the man had a cold-steel bravery in him, and a grim smile flickered on his face as he watched McKelvie, for no Hielan'man born can thole being likened to a menial, and the dark blood of hatred glowed on the innkeeper's face.
"I ken the ceevility I would like to be giving to you, Dol Beag," says he, and put a drink on the table, and lifting the coin tendered in payment he hurled it behind the fire. "I would not be thinking myself clean if I kept your money."
Dol Beag was on him before his words were out.
"The hell take you," he girned through clenched teeth, and his knife left his hip. "Ye'll lick where that lay, McKelvie, ye--ye--maker of meats for sailors," and the sweat rolled off his brow, and his voice was a skirl of rage.
McKelvie grabbed a horse-pistol from among his kegs.
"Ye hound, I'll put a hole in ye that will be hurrying the gaugers tae fill wi' siller," and as quick as light he levelled the pistol and drew the trigger. The room was filled with brimstone smoke that gripped the back of the throat, but Dol Beag was unhurt, and creeping like a powerful beast on his enemy. (The heavy bullet had smashed through the eight-day clock.) McKelvie was retreating warily to his barrels again, and I wondered if he had another pistol, when Dan laid his hand on Dol Beag.
"Stop a minute," said he; "there's some talk due to me before ye kill McKelvie."
"Ay, ay, wan at a time, McBride; I'll be feenishing the stickin' o' this pig before I will start on you, and you can be countin' your bastards again," and with that he whipped round on Dan like an eel with his dirk hand high. But a spring took Dan clear, and before Dol Beag could follow, Dan had him in the air spitting like a cat.
"Ashes to ashes," says he, "dhust to dhust," says he, in a thick blind rage, and hurled Dol smash between the stone jambs to the back of the fire.