His men, following him, bounded like tigers on their prey.

A few minutes of fierce, eager fighting, and the Glengarry men were all freed and on their feet, all except Black Hugh, who lay groaning in his corner.
"Hold, lads!" Macdonald Bhain cried, in his mighty voice.

"Stop, I'm telling you." The fighting ceased.
"Dan Murphy!" he cried, casting his eye round the room, "where are you, ye son of Belial ?" Murphy, crouching at the back of the crowd near the door, sought to escape.
"Ah! there you are!" cried Macdonald, and reaching through the crowd with his great, long arm, he caught Murphy by the hair of the head and dragged him forward.
"R-r-r-a-a-t! R-r-r-a-a-t! R-r-r-a-a-t!" he snarled, shaking him till his teeth rattled.

"It is yourself that is the cause of this wickedness.
Now, may the Lord have mercy on your soul." With one hand he gripped Murphy by the throat, holding him at arm's length, and raised his huge fist to strike.

But before the blow fell he paused.
"No!" he muttered, in a disappointed tone, "it is not good enough.