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THE CELTIC MAGAZINE. 29<br />

may ever destroy our pleasant dream, and yet there are times when I<br />

have a half-nervous dread that Red Hector of the Hills will bring us<br />

trouble."<br />

" Cease these fears, my darling," Haco cried with a forced merry laugh<br />

that belied the true state of his feelings, for at the mention of Red Hector's<br />

name the Prince's brow darkened, and he clenched his hands as if in<br />

passion.<br />

" But you know how Red Hector has pressed me to become his bride,"<br />

she answered, " and he is so wild and stern that I fear me he would resort<br />

to anything to gain his purpose."<br />

"I fear him not," Haco returned with great firmness, "and if he<br />

should persecute you more I will slay him."<br />

"<br />

Nay, Haco my own, I would not have you take his life," the Princess<br />

murmured as she threw her arms round her lover's neck and pressed her<br />

warm cheek<br />

"<br />

to his. Should he annoy me further I will tell the Abbot<br />

and seek his protection."<br />

Whatever Haco's thoughts were he kept them to himself, and made<br />

no further remark on the subject, and when a happy and too short hour<br />

had passed the lovers separated, and the Prince blew a small silver whistle<br />

which hung round his neck. This was a signal for the monk to appear<br />

and row him across the loch.<br />

When Haco reached the mainland, and close to the spot from whence<br />

he had started, he sprung lightly out, and wishing the boatman good -night,<br />

he bent his steps in the direction of his lodgings.<br />

The moon was shining brilliantly, and the night was very still, save<br />

for a soft breeze that had risen within the last hour, and was just moving<br />

the heather and the trees into a weird rustle, that only served to heighten<br />

the effects of the stillness.<br />

As the Prince trudged on he was suddenly startled by a sound that was<br />

not that of the wind, but which he knew to be an arrow that had whizzed<br />

past his ear, and was within a hair'sbreadth of striking him in the face.<br />

He was a bold and courageous youth, but he stopped and drew his long<br />

rapier that flashed ominously in the moonlight, and while he stood irresolutely,<br />

and undecided how to act, another arrow sped on its course and<br />

went through his bonnet. No longer hesitating, he grasped his rapier<br />

with a grip of iron and rushed towards a huge boulder that stood in his<br />

path, and from which direction the arrows had been shot. As he reached<br />

the rock, there suddenly rose up before him, like a spectre in the moonlight,<br />

a tall, powerful man, with coarse red hair that hung about his<br />

shoulders like a mat, and a beard that descended below his waist. His<br />

arms were bare, and were brawny and powerful, and covered with coarse<br />

fibrous hair that spoke of immense strength. In one hand he carried a<br />

bow that was still strung, and raising this above his head, he stood like a<br />

Hercules in the Prince's path, and in a stentorian voice exclaimed<br />

"<br />

Hold, Prince. You and I have an account to settle, and one of us<br />

must die to-night.<br />

(To be Continued.)

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