Each wore a sword, and by a movement of his haunch, thrust clear the hilt of it, so that it might be the more readily grasped and the blade drawn.
"Mr.Stewart, I am thinking," says Robin.
"Troth, Mr.Macgregor, it's not a name to be ashamed of," answered Alan.
"I did not know ye were in my country, sir," says Robin.
"It sticks in my mind that I am in the country of my friends the Maclarens," says Alan.
"That's a kittle point," returned the other.

"There may be two words to say to that.

But I think I will have heard that you are a man of your sword ?" "Unless ye were born deaf, Mr.Macgregor, ye will have heard a good deal more than that," says Alan.

"I am not the only man that can draw steel in Appin; and when my kinsman and captain, Ardshiel, had a talk with a gentleman of your name, not so many years back, I could never hear that the Macgregor had the best of it." "Do ye mean my father, sir ?" says Robin.
"Well, I wouldnae wonder," said Alan.

"The gentleman I have in my mind had the ill-taste to clap Campbell to his name." "My father was an old man," returned Robin.
"The match was unequal.