. Scottish fairy and folk tales. down on your knees, and, sword-bearer, giveme my claymore! Youll take my drink, will you ?Ill have your head ofl; you wont feel thirsty muchlonger! I beseech you, my lord, said Ian na Sporran,falling on his knee, taste but a drop of that me this one last request before I die. I willmake no resistance to your demands; only gi^ant methis one little boon. ^ Well, you dont deserve it, but I will do that,replied the chief, taking up one of the cups, andplacing it to his lips, for I am a just man, and my wife is Ah, auch, phew, bach!! and with a fearful gr
. Scottish fairy and folk tales. down on your knees, and, sword-bearer, giveme my claymore! Youll take my drink, will you ?Ill have your head ofl; you wont feel thirsty muchlonger! I beseech you, my lord, said Ian na Sporran,falling on his knee, taste but a drop of that me this one last request before I die. I willmake no resistance to your demands; only gi^ant methis one little boon. ^ Well, you dont deserve it, but I will do that,replied the chief, taking up one of the cups, andplacing it to his lips, for I am a just man, and my wife is Ah, auch, phew, bach!! and with a fearful grimace he spat the liquid out all over thefloor. ^ Give me some water, wine, brose, anything totake the taste out of my mouth! Oh, ach! phew!Im poisoned as sure as death! yelled the chief,rushing out of the room, and scattering them all onthis side and on that in his wild dart at the door.^ Secure Ian na Piob! He shall die to-morrowbefore cockcrow! and he was down the stairs andhis nose into a beaker of brose before any one could. I beseech you, ray lord, said Ian na Sporran, falling on his knees,taste but a drop of that wine.—Page 106. Scottish Fairy Tales. THE FAITHFUL PURSE-BEARER. 167 say How dye do ? or had recovered from the starthe had given them. But the chief was not poisoned at all, for it wasonly brown burn water that Ian na Piob had pouredinto the goblets, and that looked so purple in themoonlight. So Ian na Piob was placed under lockand key in the dungeon below the moat, and as he wasto be executed the next morning without fail, a guardwas set over him to make sure of his not escap-ing. But, somehow, Ian na Piob contrived to get amessage sent to the chiefs lady that he had some-thing of great moment to confide to her ear alone,saying that, though he must die, it was a real pityso great a secret should be lost, especially when shecould listen so easily at the keyhole, while he spoketo her on the other side of the door, and nobodywould be any the wiser or any the wo
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