“This morning!” Macleod said, jumping to his feet.  There was an angry flash in his eyes.

“Ay, sir, this very morning I saw two of them myself—­and John Fraser he was one of them—­and I went down and said to them, ’It will be a bad day for you,’ says I to them, ‘if Sir Keith will find you in this bay.’”

“Are they down at the quay now?” Macleod said.

“Ay, they will be in the house now.”

“Come along with me, Hamish.  I think we will put this right.”

He lifted his cap and went out into the cool night air, followed by Hamish.  They passed through the dark fir-wood until they came in sight of the Atlantic again, which was smooth enough to show the troubled reflection of the bigger stars.  They went down the hillside until they were close to the shore, and then they followed the rough path to the quay.  The door of the square stone building was open; the men were seated on rude stools or on spare coils of rope, smoking.  Macleod called them out, and they came to the door.

“Now look here, boys,” said he, “you know I will not allow any man to bathe in the bay before the house.  I told you before; I tell you now for the last time.  They that want to bathe can go along to the Cave bay; and the end of it is this—­and there will be no more words about it—­that the first man I catch in the bay before the house I will take a horsewhip to him, and he will have as good a run as ever he had in his life.”

With that he was turning away, when he heard one of the men mutter, “I would like to see you do it!” He wheeled round instantly—­and if some of his London friends could have seen the look of his face at this moment, they might have altered their opinion about the obliteration of certain qualities from the temperament of the Highlanders of our own day.

“Who said that?” he exclaimed.

There was no answer.

“Come out here, you four men!” he said.  “Stand in a line there.  Now let the man who said that step out and face me.  I will show him who is to be master here.  If he thinks he can master me, well; but it is one or the other of us who will be master!”

There was not a sound or a motion; but Macleod sprang forward, caught the man Fraser by the throat, and shook him thrice—­as he might have shaken a reed.

“You scoundrel!” he said.  “You coward!  Are you afraid to own it was you?  There has been nothing but bad feeling since ever you brought your ugly face among us—­well, we’ve had enough of you!”

He flung him back.

“Hamish,” said he, “you will pay this man his month’s wages to-night.  Pack him off with the Gometra men in the morning; they will take him out to the Pioneer.  And look you here, sir,” he added, turning to Fraser, “it will be a bad day for you the day that I see your face again anywhere about Castle Dare.”

He walked off and up to the house again, followed by the reluctant Hamish.  Hamish had spoken of this matter only that Macleod should give the men a renewed warning; he had no notion that this act of vengeance would be the result.  And where were they to get a man to put in Fraser’s place?