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"Ye did richt tae resist him; it 'ill maybe roose the Glen tae mak a stand; he fair hauds them in bondage. "Thirty shillings for twal veesits, and him no mair than seeven mile awa, an' a'm telt there werena mair than four at nicht. "Ye 'ill hae the sympathy o' the Glen, for a' body kens yir as free wi' yir siller as yir tracts. "Wes't 'Beware o' gude warks' ye offered him?
My name's Alexander Turnbull, and I've been seeven year at the trade, and twenty afore that herdin' on Leithen Water. My freens ca' me Ecky, and whiles Specky, for I wear glesses, being waik i' the sicht. Just you speak the Surveyor fair, and ca' him Sir, and he'll be fell pleased. I'll be back or mid-day.
Interval; then: "The Boots will tak' it at seeven o'clock, mam." "Thank you; is Fotheringay Crescent near here?" "I cudna say, mam." "Thank you; what is your name, please?" I waited in well-grounded anxiety, for I had no idea that she knew her name, or that if she had ever heard it, she could say it; but, to my surprise, she answered almost immediately, "Susanna Crum, mam!"
"I misdoobt if a mere man could see ane clearly and conteenue in the body. I hae sailed wi' a lad they ca'd him Sandy Gabart; he saw ane, shüre eneuch, an' shüre eneuch it was the end of him. We were seeven days oot frae the Clyde a sair wark we had had gaun north wi' seeds an' braws an' things for the Macleod.
SECOND CHATTY SIGNALLER. Oh, aye. There was a wee THE F.O.O. Is that C Battery? There's SECOND CHATTY SIGNALLER. No, sir. This is Don Company. Weel, Jimmy, there was a couple whish-bangs came intil A CHEERFUL COCKNEY VOICE. Well, my lad, what abaht it? Hold the line, Brigade. Message to Staff Captain. "Ref. your S.C. fourr stroke seeven eight six, the worrking-parrty in question " Working-party?
'I misdoobt if a mere man could see ane clearly and conteenue in the body. I hae sailed wi' a lad they ca'd him Sandy Gabart; he saw ane, shure eneueh, an' shure eneueh it was the end of him. We were seeven days oot frae the Clyde a sair wark we had had gaun north wi' seeds an' braws an' things for the Macleod.
He was dirty, ragged, unkempt, and feeble, but quite sober, and pathetically anxious for human sympathy. "I'm achty-sax year auld, he maundered, apropos of nothing, "achty-sax year auld. I've seen five lairds o' Pettybaw, sax placed meenisters, an' seeven doctors. I was a mason, an' a stoot mon i' thae days, but it's a meeserable life noo. Wife deid, bairns deid!
"This is my nevoy Dickson," said Mrs. Morran. "He's gaun to stretch his legs ayont the burn, and come back by the Ayr road. But I'll be blithe to tak' my tea wi' ye, Elspeth.... Now, Dickson, I'll expect ye hame on the chap o' seeven." He crossed the rising stream on a swaying plank and struck into the moorland, as Dougal had ordered, keeping the bald top of Grey Carrick before him.
"Ye did richt tae resist him; it 'ill maybe roose the Glen tae mak' a stand; he fair hands them in bondage. "Thirty shillin's for twal' vessits, and him no mair than seeven mile awa', an' a' 'm telt there werena mair than four at nicht. "Ye 'ill hae the sympathy o' the Glen, for a'body kens yir as free wi' yir siller as yir tracts. "Wes 't 'Beware o' Gude Warks' ye offered him?
And it was a fine nicht last nicht, especially when the shellin' was gaun on! Especially in number seeven dug-oot!" There was a short silence. Number seven dug-out was no more, and five of its late occupants were now lying under their waterproof sheets, not a hundred yards away, waiting for a Padre.
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