Fiction > Book editions > London, 1889 - Master of Ballantrae

316 THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE.
" But, God damn me, the man's buried ! " cried Sir
W
iliiam.
" I will never believe that/' returned my lord,
painfully trembling. " I'll never believe it ! '' he cried
again, and jumped to his feet. ''^ Did he looh dead? "
he asked of Mountain.
'^ Look dead ? " repeated the trader. *' He looked
white. Why, what would he be at? I tell you, I put
the sods upon him.''
My lord caught Sir William by the coat with a
hooked hand. '' This man has the name of my brother,"
says he, " but it's well understood that he was never
canny."
'' Canny ? " says Sir William. " What is that ? "
" He's not of this world," Avhispered my lord,
"neither him nor the black deil that serves him. I
have struck my sword throughout his vitals," he
cried ; " 1 have felt the hilt dirl* on his breastbone,
and the hot blood spirt in ray very face, time and
again, time and again ! " he rej)eated, with a gesture
indescribable. " But he was never dead for that," said
he, and I sighed aloud. "^ Why should I think he
was dead now ? No, not till I see him rotting," says
he.
Sir William looked across at me with a long face.
Mountain forgot his wounds, staring and gaping.
" jNIy lord," said I, '^ I wish you would collect your
* ran-.