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I can add an' subtrac', accordin' to the rules gien, but that's no un'erstan'in', an' un'erstan' I canna." "I'm thinkin' it's something as gien x was a horse, an' y was a coo, an' z was a cairt, or onything ither ye micht hae to ca' 't; an' ye bargain awa' aboot the x an' the y and the z, an' ley the horse i' the stable, the coo i' the byre, an' the cairt i' the shed, till ye hae sattlet a'."
On the mantel a solid hewn log of oak, a miracle of broad-axe work, were "bits o' chiny" rarely valuable as antiques to the knowing connoisseur but beyond price to the old white-haired lady who daily dusted them with reverent care as having been borne by her mother from the Highland home in the far north country when as a bride she came by the "cadger's cairt" to her new home in the lonely city of Glasgow.
"There's naethin' t' pint oot," returned the boy; "ye've only t' haud on by this sheep track till ee come close under the cliff yonder." "The Eagle Cliff?" "Ay. It'll bring ee to a cairt road, an' ye've only to follow that through the pass, an' haud on till ee come to the hoose. Ye can see the hoose frae the other side o' the pass." "And what is the `hoose' called?" asked Barret. "Kinlossie."
The rattlin' o' the scales at the back o' the cairt fleggit him, an' aff he set at full tear, the lang skranky legs o' him wallopin' about like torn cloots atween him an' the grund. A gude curn wives were oot waitin' their tatties, an' they roared to Sandy to stop; but Sandy cudna.
To look at him you wudda thocht he was trailin' the band an' a' the sojers ahent him, he lookit that hard wrocht. He never saw me not him! His e'en were starin' fair afore him; he wudna kent his ain tattie cairt, I believe, he was that muckle taen up wi' his merchin'. He landit hame till his tea atween sax an' seven o'clock, stervin' o' cauld, but as happy's a cricket.
The tatties were fleein' ower the back door o' the cairt, an' the scales were rattlin' an' reeshlin' like an earthquake; an' there was Sandy, bare-heided, up to the knees amon' his tatties, ruggin' an' roarin', like the skipper o' some schooner that was rinnin' on the rocks. I'll swear, Sandy got roond his roonds an' a' his tatties delivered in less than half the time Donal' took!
"But I dinna see hoo that mak's ony difference to the back door o' the cairt," says I, I says. Sandy took a gey wild-like bite at his row, an gae twa-three o' his chuck-chucks, an' then he says, "Man, Bawbie, you weemin fowk have nae rizzenin' faculty.
Is Satan to grip her 'cause ye winna be neebour til her and hand him aff o' her? I ken ye're a guid son sae far as lat her du as she likes and tak 'maist a' the siller, but that's what greases the exle o' the cairt the deevil's gotten her intil! I ken weel she hesna been muckle o' a mither til ye, but ye're her son whan a' 's said.
But bless me, An'rew, what hae ye dune wi' the cairt and the beastie?" In a few words, for brevity was easy to him, Andrew told the story of their disaster. "It maun hae been the Lord's mercy! The puir beastie bude to suffer for the sake o' the bairnie!"
"I was half-gaits to Portlokie, whan I had a mishap upo' the road. Bettie pat her fit upon a sharp stane, and fell doon, and bruik baith her legs." "How did she come home then?" "She bude to come hame, mem." "Broke her legs!" "Hoot, mem�-her k-nees. I dinna mean the banes, ye ken, mem; only the skin. But she wasna fit to gang on. And sae I brocht her back." "What's that i' the cairt?
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