RAB AND HIS FRIENDS.

of some ancient dreechin. His mouth was
open as far as it could; his lips curled
up in rage—a sort of terrible grin—his
teeth gleaming ready from out the dark-
ness, the strap across his mouth tense as
a bowstring, his whole frame stiff with in-
dignation and surprise, his roar asking us
all round, “ Did you ever see the like of
this?”? He looked a statue of anger and
astonishment done in Aberdeen granite.
We soon had acrowd ; the Chicken held
on. “A knife!” cried Bob; and a cob-
bler gave him his knife; you know the
kind of knife, worn away obliquely to a
point, and always keen. I put its edge to
the tense leather ; it ran before it; and
then—one sudden jerk of that enormous
head, a sort of dirty mist about his mouth,
no noise—and the bright and fierce little
fellow is dropped, limp and dead. A sol-
emn pause: this was more than any of us
had bargained for. I turned the little fel-

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