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Updated: May 10, 2025
The woman burst into a great laugh, a hard, unmusical, but not unmirthful laugh. "Ay!" she said, "was that hoo the fowk wad hae't o' me?" "It wasna muckle won'er, efter ye cam wydin' throu' watter yairds deep, an' syne gaed doon the spate on a bran'er." "Weel, it was the maddest thing!" she returned, with another laugh which stopped abruptly. " I wadna dee the like again to save my life.
A good name it is, and one it would ill become my father's son to lightly. But I begin to grue at the sound of it." "My name is called Balfour," said I, "David Balfour of Shaws. As for him that sent me, I will let his token speak." And I showed the silver button. "Put it in your pocket, sir!" cries he. "Ye need name no names. The deevil's buckie, I ken the button of him! And deil hae't!
"An' syne," cried Malcolm eagerly, "that ane turns roon' an' rins efter the first; that 'll be 'fled and pursued transverse. I hae't! I hae't!
No that I would preen my faith to that clink neither; but it's bonny, and easier to mind. "Who go to sea in ships," they hae't again And in Great waters trading be, Within the deep these men God's works And His great wonders see. Weel, it's easy sayin' sae. Maybe Dauvit wasnae very weel acquant wi' the sea.
Owen ye hae't whereof there may be twenty-eight thousand seven hundred able-bodied gillies fit to bear arms, and that do bear arms, and will touch or look at nae honest means of livelihood even if they could get it which, lack-a-day! they cannot." "But is it possible," said I, "Mr. Jarvie, that this can be a just picture of so large a portion of the island of Britain?"
But it's a sair pity o' his hoast, for it aye comes on just when he's at the best o't, and that lang routing he made air this morning, is sair again him too Deil an I care if he wad roar her dumb, and then he wad hae't a' to answer for himsell It's lucky the road's rough, and the troopers are no taking muckle tent to what they say, wi' the rattling o' the horse's feet; but an we were anes on saft grund, we'll hear news o' a' this."
"'Deed an' sae am I! Ye s' hae nae mair nor that no gien it was to scrape the girnel an' that's dune lang syne, an' twise ower!" "Grizzie, I'm feart ye'll anger me." "Ye s' get nae mair!" Cosmo burst out laughing. "Grizzie," he said, "I dinna believe ye nae an' inch mair can'le i' the hoose!" "It needs na a Warlock to tell that! Gien I had it, what for sud na ye hae't 'at has the best richt?"
Owen ye hae't whereof there may be twenty-eight thousand seven hundred able-bodied gillies fit to bear arms, and that do bear arms, and will touch or look at nae honest means of livelihood even if they could get it which, lack-a-day! they cannot." "But is it possible," said I, "Mr. Jarvie, that this can be a just picture of so large a portion of the island of Britain?"
Awa' wi' ye, ye deil's buckie!" she continued, turning to Malcolm; "I ken mair aboot ye nor ye ken aboot yersel', an' deil hae't I ken o' guid to you or yours! But I s' gar ye lauch o' the wrang side o' your mou' yet, my man." Malcolm, who had seated himself on the threshold, only laughed and looked reference to his master.
"Pit it as ye please, hae't your ain way; I'll do naething to cross ye. Just tell me what like ye'll be wanting, and ye'll see that we'll can agree fine." "Troth, sir," said Alan, "I ask for nothing but plain dealing. In two words: do ye want the lad killed or kept?" "O sirs!" cried Ebenezer. "O sirs me! that's no kind of language!" "Killed or kept?" repeated Alan.
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