TOUR TO NORTH-WEST HIGHLANDS. 141 



Swivel. Question himself, Jack. See, there he is 

 in propria persona, attended by a Celtic body-guard, 

 for the purpose, I imagine, of delivering me from the 

 hands of such notorious highwaymen and slayers of 

 the king's lieges, as you and Tom Otter. 



Otter. Greet him with three cheers. 



All. Hurra ! hurra ! hurra ! 



Enter MAY-FLY, attended by two others. 



Sivivel. To the rescue, most valiant Bill ! I am 

 sore beset by these foot-pads on either side of me. 

 What ? armed with a pitch -fork, too ? charge upon 

 them. 



Leister. Nay, a truce, Master May -fly, we sur- 

 render mar us not, I pray thee, with a weapon so 

 unseemly. 



May. Is't thou, Jack, and Otter too ? egad ! boys, 

 but ye have sprung out of the water, and must have 

 rushed up Etive, like twain milters. Here is the 

 hostelry yclept King's-house, as you see, and here am 

 I, Will May-fly, blind and pinched below the ribs 

 with fatigue and famine ; wherefore, haste ye, mas- 

 ters, and enter, so that I may satiate instanter the 

 cravings of nature fill up my internal vacancies, 

 nook and cranny, with such moor dainties as this 

 refuge-roof affords and forthwith betake myself, 

 plenteously primed, to slumber on cool sheets, all 

 blanketings abjured and discarded. 



Intrant omnes. 



