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He's haen a teenge or twa, an' he's akinda foondered afore, an' a little spavie i' the aft hent leg; but I'll shune pet that a' richt wi' gude guidin'. He's a grand beast, I tell ye!" Sandy stood an' lookit first up at the horse an' then doon at his cairt. "He's gey high for the wheels," he says; "but, man, he's a grand beast. He cam hame frae Glesterlaw juist like a bird. Never turned a hair.
"Man, you've juist to lay the reinds on's back, an' he's awa' like the wind," I heard him sayin'. "There's naething a' roond aboot can touch him. He can trot up the High Road wi' sasteen hunderwecht. He's a reg'lar topper! You should send that hunger'd-lookin' radger o' yours to Glesterlaw"; an' so on he gaed, an' the man girnin' an' skoolin' at him like a teegar.
The cairt appeared to be haudin' him up, raither than him haudin' up the cairt; an' he was restin' the thrawn legs o' him time aboot, juist like a cock stanin' amon' snaw. "Ye shudda left that billie at the knackers at Glesterlaw, Sandy," says I, I says. "I'm dootin' ye'll ha'e back to tak' him there afore him or you's muckle aulder." "Tyach! Haud your lang tongue," says Sandy.
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