But he dared not follow him, for that would be but
to heighten the anguish of the tortured mind and the suffering of
the sickly frame; for, when pursued, he would accomplish a short
distance at an incredible speed, then drop suddenly and lie like one
dead. Malcolm, therefore, threw off his heavy boots, and starting
at full speed along the other side of the dune, made for the bored
craig; his object being to outrun the laird without being seen by
him, and so, doubling the rock, return with leisurely steps, and
meet him. Sweetly the west wind whistled about his head as he ran.
In a few moments he had rounded the rock, towards which the laird
was still running, but now more slowly. The tide was high and came
near its foot, leaving but a few yards of passage between, in which
space they approached each other, Malcolm with sauntering step
as if strolling homewards. Lifting his bonnet, a token of respect
he never omitted when he met the mad laird, he stood aside in the
narrow way. Mr Stewart stopped abruptly, took his fingers from his
ears, and stared in perplexity.
"It's a richt bonny nicht, laird," said Malcolm.
The poor fellow looked hurriedly behind him, then stared again,
then made gestures backward, and next pointed at Malcolm with rapid
pokes of his forefinger. Bewilderment had brought on the impediment
in his speech, and all Malcolm could distinguish in the babbling
efforts at utterance which followed, were the words,--"Twa o'
them! Twa o' them! Twa o' them!" often and hurriedly repeated.
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