truth, the work of but a moment.

On being satisfied that Lord Rae had made his escape--

"Noo, lads, ye may got up," said M'Kay, loosening his hold of the men,
and starting himself to his feet. "Ta burd's flown; but ye may look
after ta cage, and see tat no more o' your canaries got away."

Freed from the powerful grasp which had hitherto pinned them to the
floor, the soldiers sprang to their feet, and endeavoured to get hold of
their muskets. Seeing this, M'Kay again seized them, and again threw
them to the floor; but on this occasion it was merely to show the power
he had over them, if they should still have any doubt of it.

"Noo, lads, I'll tell you what it is," said M'Kay, addressing the
prostrate soldiers--"if you'll behave yoursels desenly, and no be
botherin' me wi' ony more o' your tarn nonsense, I'll aloo you to make
me your prisoner; for I'm no intending to run away; I'll kive myself up
to save your hides, and take my shance of ta law for what I'll do. Tat's
my mind of it, lads. If you like to acree to it, goot and well; if not,
I will knock your two heads togidder, till your prains go into smash."

But too happy to accept of such terms, the soldiers at once assented to
them; and on their doing so, were permitted once more to resume their
legs, when M'Kay peaceably yielded himself their prisoner. The gigantic
Highlander could easily have effected his own escape; but he could not
have done so without having recourse to that violence which had been so
anxiously deprecated by both his master and mistress. Without inflicting
some mortal injury on the soldiers, he could not have prevented them
from pursuing him when he had fled, and probably firing on him as he did