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Updated: May 22, 2025
He was at her side in a moment, tenderly bending over her. "Eh, Maggie, but I am sorry, lass " She wrenched away from beneath his hands. "I hate yo'," she cried passionately. He gently removed her hands from before her tear-stained face. "I was nob'but laffin', Maggie," he pleaded; "say yo' forgie me." "I don't," she cried, struggling. "I think yo're the hatefullest lad as iver lived."
"Ye may thrash me till ye're blind; and it's nob'but yer duty; but if only one daurs so much as to look at yer Wullie ye're mad," the boy answered bitterly. And with that he turned away defiantly and openly in the direction of Kenmuir. M'Adam made a step forward, and then stopped. "I'll see ye agin, ma lad, this evenin'," he cried with cruel significance.
The general verdict was that he had brought his punishment entirely on his own head. Tammas, indeed, who was always rude when he was not witty, and, in fact, the difference between the two things is only one of degree, told him straight: "It served yo' well reet. An' I nob'but wish he'd made an end to yo'." "He did his best, puir lad," M'Adam reminded him gently.
The postman whistled, long and low. "It's just what owd Wrottesley'd tell on," he said. "I never nob'but half believed him then I do now though. D'yo' mind what th' owd lad'd tell, Master?" James Moore nodded. "Thot's it. I've never seen the like afore myself, but I've heard ma grandad speak o't mony's the time.
He made a half move as though to leap in to the rescue of his enemy; then, seeing it was unnecessary, turned and trotted back to his master. "Yo' nob'but served him right, I'm thinkin'," said the Master. "Like as not he came here wi' the intent to mak' an end to yo. Well, after Thursday, I pray God we'll ha' peace. It's gettin' above a joke." The two turned back into the yard.
"Happen yo're not aware, M'Adam," he said sternly, "that, an' it had not bin for me, David'd ha' left you years agone and 'twould nob'but ha' served yo' right, I'm thinkin'." The little man was beaten on his own ground, so he changed front. "Dinna shout so, man I have ears to hear, Forbye ye irritate Wullie."
"Theer's the first on 'em," he muttered, shooting out his tongue to indicate the locality: "'Andrew Moore's Rough, 178 . And theer agin James Moore's Pinch, 179 . And agin 'Beck, 182 . Ah, and theer's 'im Tammas tells on! 'Rex, 183 , and Rex, 183 . Ay, but he was a rare un by all tell-in's! If he'd nob'but won but onst agin!
"Ye're content, aiblins, noo ye've seen yer father's gray head bowed in the dust," he said. "'Twas an accident," pleaded James Moore. "But I am sorry. He thought yo' were goin' to beat the lad." "So I was so I will." "If ony's beat it should be ma Bob here tho' he nob'but thought he was doin' right. An' yo' were aff the path." The little man looked at his enemy, a sneer on his face.
"Queer too, and 'im bein' such a bad un!" Jim Mason rose slowly from his knees. "Ma word," he said, "I wish Th' Owd Un was here. He'd 'appen show us summat!" "I nob'but wish he was, pore owd lad!" said the Master. As he spoke there was a crash in the wood above them; a sound as of some big body bursting furiously through brushwood. The two men rushed to the top of the rise.
The sheep stamped and shuffled as he came, and yet did not break. "Ah, thanks be!" he cried, dropping beside the motionless body; "it's nob'but a sheep." As he spoke his hands wandered deftly over the carcase. "But what's this?" he called. "Stout* she was as me. Look at her fleece crisp, close, strong; feel the flesh firm as a rock.
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