Викрадений
Chapter 25
AsforAlan,hisfacegrewdarkandhot,andhesatandgnawedhisfingers,likeamanundersomedeepaffront.“Enough!”hecried.“Yecanblowthepipes—makethemostofthat.”Andhemadeasiftorise.
ButRobinonlyheldouthishandasiftoaskforsilence,andstruckintotheslowmeasureofapibroch.Itwasafinepieceofmusicinitself,andnoblyplayed;butitseems,besides,itwasapiecepeculiartotheAppinStewartsandachieffavouritewithAlan.Thefirstnoteswerescarceout,beforetherecameachangeinhisface;whenthetimequickened,heseemedtogrowrestlessinhisseat;andlongbeforethatpiecewasatanend,thelastsignsofhisangerdiedfromhim,andhehadnothoughtbutforthemusic.
“RobinOig,”hesaid,whenitwasdone,“yeareagreatpiper.Iamnotfittoblowinthesamekingdomwithye.Bodyofme!yehavemairmusicinyoursporranthanIhaveinmyhead!AndthoughitstillsticksinmymindthatIcouldmaybeshowyeanotherofitwiththecoldsteel,Iwarnyebeforehand—it’llnobefair!Itwouldgoagainstmyhearttohaggleamanthatcanblowthepipesasyoucan!”
Thereuponthatquarrelwasmadeup;allnightlongthebrosewasgoingandthepipeschanginghands;andthedayhadcomeprettybright,andthethreemenwerenonethebetterforwhattheyhadbeentaking,beforeRobinasmuchasthoughtupontheroad.
