Barshalloch very handsomely
complimented me, and sent for the mutchkin. His words made me warm
towards him, and I told him that half the business was not my skill of
shooting but the weapon I carried.
He begged for a look at it, and examined it long and carefully.
"Will ye sell, friend?" he asked. "I'll give ye ten golden guineas and
the best filly that ever came out o' Strathendrick for that pistol."
But I told him that the offer of Strathendrick itself would not buy it.
"No?" said he. "Well, I won't say ye're wrong. A man should cherish his
weapon like his wife, for it carries his honour."
Presently, having drunk the wager, they went indoors again, all but a
tall fellow who had been a looker-on, but had not been of the Lennox
company. I had remarked him during the contest, a long, lean man with a
bright, humorous blue eye and a fiery red head. He was maybe ten years
older than me, and though he was finely dressed in town clothes, there
was about his whole appearance a smack of the sea. He came forward,
and, in a very Highland voice, asked my name.
"Why should I tell you?" I said, a little nettled.
"Just that I might carry it in my head. I have seen some pretty
shooting in my day, but none like yours, young one.
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