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He put his hand to his heead, and it felt as though 'twere twinin' round an' round. Now that was just what Melsh Dick wanted, and why he'd set t' squirrels lowpin' in a ring.
"All t' while Melsh Dick kept tootlin' wi' his whistle an' t' squirrels com lowpin' through t' trees, while t' espins round t' dub were fair wick wi' 'em. You could hardlins see t' boughs for t' squirrels. 'Twere same as if all t' squirrels i' Bowland Forest had heerd t' whistle an' bin foorced to follow t' sound.
Soomtimes 'twere like t' yowlin' o' t' wind i' t' chimley, an' soomtimes 'twere like t' yammerin' o' tewits an' curlews on t' moor. But when t' squirrels heerd t' tune, they gat theirsens into line alang t' boughs, an' there were happen twelve squirrels on ivery bough. Then they gat agate o' lowpin'; they lowped frae tree to tree, reet round t' dub, wi' their tails set straight out behind 'em.
He'd seen horses lowpin' in a ring at Slaidburn Fair, but 'twere nowt anent squirrels lowpin' i' t' espins round t' dub. "Efter a while Doed thowt that Melsh Dick would sooin give ower playin' tunes on t' whistle, but he did nowt o' t' sort. He just played faster nor iver, an' all t' time he kept yan eye fixed on squirrels an' yan eye fixed on lile Doed, to see if owt would happen him.
Ay weel, here he was wi' a bawbee can'le stuck up again' the boddom o' the lookin'-gless, an' him maleengerin' aboot i' the flure afore't, wi' the shaft o' the heather bissam in his hand, whiskin't roond his lugs, progin' aboot wi't, an' lowpin' here an' there like a hen on a het girdle.
Ma father let me gang to a fox hunt, and man, it was grand to see the hounds and the lang-legged horses lowpin the dykes and burns and hedges!" The nests, I fear, with the beautiful eggs and young birds, were prized quite as highly as the songs of the glad parents, but no Scotch boy that I know of ever failed to listen with enthusiasm to the songs of the skylarks.
"He'd no sooiner said t' words when all on a sudden Melsh Dick gav ower playin', t' squirrels gav ower lowpin', t' bats gav ower fleein' across t' dub, t' mooin gat behind a gert thunner-cloud, an' t' wood an' t' watter were as black as a booit. Then there com a scufflin' an' a skrikin' all ower t' wood.
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