I   COME   INTO  MY   KINGDOM.                      301
"Powder and your auld hands are but as the snail
to the swallow against the bright steel in the hands of
Alan," said the other. "Before your jottering finger
could find the trigger, the hilt would dirl on your breast
bane."
"Eh, man, whae's denying it?" said my uncle.
"Pit it as ye please, hae't your ain way; I'll do naething
to cross ye. Just tell me what like ye'll be wanting,
and ye'll see that we'll can agree fine."
"Troth, sir," said Alan, "I ask for nothing but
plain dealing. In two words: do ye want the lad killed
or kept?"
"O, sirs!" cried Ebenezer. "O, sirs, me! that's
no kind of language!"
"Killed or kept?" repeated Alan.
"O keepit, keepit!" wailed my uncle. "We'll have
nae bloodshed, if you please."
"Well," says Alan, " as ye please; that'll be the
dearer."
"The dearer?" cries Ebenezer. "Would ye fyle
your hands wi' crime?"
"Hoot!" said Alan," they're baith crime, whatever!
And the killing's easier, and quicker, and surer. Keeping
the lad'll be a fashious* job, a fashions, kittle business."
"I'll have him keepit, though," returned my uncle.
"I never had naething to do with onything morally
wrong; and I'm no gaun to begin to pleasure a wild
Hielandman."
* Troublesome.