So saying, he went away to the stable, and when Ranald and his uncle, Macdonald Bhain, followed a little later to put up Peter McGregor's team, they heard Yankee inside, swearing with a fluency and vigor quite unusual with him.
"Whisht, man!" said Macdonald Bhain, sternly.

"This is no place or time to be using such language.

What is the matter with you, anyway ?" But Macdonald could get no satisfaction out of him, and he said to his nephew, "What is it, Ranald ?" "It is the elders, Peter McRae and Straight Rory," said Ranald, sullenly.

"They were saying that Mack was--that Mack was--" "Look here, boss," interrupted Yankee, "I ain't well up in Scriptures, and don't know much about these things, and them elders do, and they say--some of them, anyway--are sending Mack to hell.

Now, I guess you're just as well up as they are in this business, and I want your solemn opinion." Yankee's face was pale, and his eyes were glaring like a wild beast's.