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Updated: June 13, 2025
Careless as he affected to be of his father's vagaries, he was tried almost to madness, and fled away at every moment to Kenmuir; for, as he told Maggie, "I'd sooner put up wi' your h'airs and h'imperences, miss, than wi' him, the wemon that he be!" At length the great day came. Fears, hopes, doubts, dismays, all dispersed in the presence of the reality.
They forthwith impeached the earls of Derwentwater, Nithsdale, Carnwath, and Winton; lords Widdrington, Kenmuir, and Nairn. These noblemen being brought to the bar of the house of lords, heard the articles of impeachment read on the tenth day of January, and were ordered to put in their answers on the sixteenth.
It was in the Sylvester Arms he first heard it, and straightway fell into one of those foaming frenzies characteristic of him. "The dochter o' Moore o' Kenmuir, d'ye say? sic a dochter o' sic a man! The dochter o' th' one man in the warld that's harmed me aboon the rest! I'd no ha' believed it gin ye'd no tell't me. Oh, David, David!
At last the Black Killer had visited Kenmuir. "I guessed as much," said the Master, standing over the mangled body. "Well, it's the worst night's work ever the Killer done. I reck'n Th' Owd Un come on him while he was at it; and then they fought. And, ma word! it munn ha' bin a fight too."
Hooiver" with a characteristic shrug "I suppose I'm onraisonable." Then the gong rang out its summons, and the squire led the way into the great dining-hall. At the one end of the long table, heavy with all the solid delicacies of such a feast, he took his seat with the Master of Kenmuir upon his right. At the other end was Parson Leggy.
As he entered the yard, David was standing outside the kitchen window, looking very glum and miserable. On seeing his father, however, the boy started forward, all alert. "What d'yo' want here?" he cried roughly. "Same as you, dear lad," the little man giggled, advancing. "I come on a visit." "Your visits to Kenmuir are usually paid by night, so I've heard," David sneered.
It was nigh fifty years since Rex son o' Rally had won back the Trophy for the land that gave it birth; it was time, they thought, for a Daleland dog, a Gray Dog of Kenmuir the terms are practically synonymous to bring it home again.
Yet all the while she was haunted by a white, miserable face; and all the while she was conscious of two black moving dots in the Murk Muir Pass opposite her solitary, desolate, a contrast to the huzzaing crowd around. That is how the champion challenge Dale Cup, the world-known Shepherds' Trophy, came to wander no more; won outright by the last of the Gray Dogs of Kenmuir Owd Bob.
"And that he'll spare his own sheep?" "Niver a doubt of it." "Then," said the smith with a nervous cackle, "it must lie between you and Tupper and Saunderson." The little man leant forward and tapped the other on the arm. "Or Kenmuir, ma friend," he said. "Ye've forgot Kenmuir." "So I have," laughed the smith, "so I have." "Then I'd not anither time," the other continued, still tapping.
At last, one afternoon, David managed to cross the Bottom at a point where a fallen thorn-tree gave him a bridge over the soft snow. He stayed but a little while at Kenmuir, yet when he started for home it was snowing again. By the time he had crossed the ice-draped bridge over the Wastrel, a blizzard was raging.
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