"Let him come, eh, Mack?" said Perkins. "I guess we ain't afraid of no
city bug beating you with the hammer."
"Oh! I'm no thrower," said Mack modestly. "I just take the thing up and
give it a fling. I haven't got the trick of it at all."
"Have you practised much?" said Cameron, whose heart warmed at the
accent that might have been transplanted that very day from his own
North country.
"Never at all, except now and then at the blacksmith's shop on a rainy
day," replied Mack. "Have you done anything at it?"
"Oh, I have seen a good deal of it at the games in the north of
Scotland," replied Cameron.
"Man! I wish we had a hammer and you could show me the trick of it,"
said Mack fervently, "for they will be looking to me to throw and I do
not wish to be beaten just too easily."
"There's a big mason's hammer," said Tim, "in the tool house, I think."
"Get it, Tim, then," said Mack eagerly, "and we will have a little
practise at it, for throw I must, and I have no wish to bring discredit
on my country, for it will be a big day. They will be coming from all
over. The Band of the Seventh is coming out and Piper Sutherland from
Zorra will be there."
"A piper!" echoed Cameron. "Is there much pipe playing in this country?"
"Indeed, you may say that!" said Mack, "and good pipers they are too,
they tell me.
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