Suddenly a man burst through,
crying--
'Let me go! Stand back! I know what I'm about!'
It was Nixon, dressed in his best; black clothes, blue shirt, red tie,
looking handsome enough, but half-drunk and wildly excited. The highland
Fling competition was on at the moment, and Angus Campbell, Lachlan's
brother, was representing the lumber camps in the contest. Nixon looked
on approvingly for a few moments, then with a quick movement he seized
the little Highlander, swung him in his powerful arms clean off the
floor, and deposited him gently upon a beer-barrel. Then he stepped
into the centre of the room, bowed to the judges, and began a sailor's
hornpipe.
The committee were perplexed, but after deliberation they decided to
humour the new competitor, especially as they knew that Nixon with
whisky in him was unpleasant to cross.
Lightly and gracefully he went through his steps, the men crowding in
from the bar to admire, for Nixon was famed for his hornpipe. But when,
after the hornpipe, he proceeded to execute a clog-dance, garnished with
acrobatic feats, the committee interfered.
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