"What on earth is the matter?" asked Turnbull, staring in some
anger.

Evan made no reply.

"What the deuce is the matter with you?" demanded the leader,
again, his face slowly growing as red as his beard; then he said,
suddenly, and in a more human voice, "Are you in pain, MacIan?"

"Yes," replied the Highlander, without lifting his face.

"Take some brandy," cried Turnbull, walking forward hurriedly
towards him. "You've got it."

"It's not in the body," said MacIan, in his dull, strange way.
"The pain has come into my mind. A very dreadful thing has just
come into my thoughts."

"What the devil are you talking about?" asked Turnbull.

MacIan broke out with a queer and living voice.

"We must fight now, Turnbull. We must fight now. A frightful
thing has come upon me, and I know it must be now and here. I
must kill you here," he cried, with a sort of tearful rage
impossible to describe. "Here, here, upon this blessed grass."

"Why, you idiot," began Turnbull.