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The Major groans, but can do nothing. Presently there is a fresh block. "What is it this time?" inquires the afflicted Kemp. "More wounded, or are we being photographed?" The answer races joyously down the line "Gairman prisoners, sirr seeventy of them!" This time the Major acts with promptness and decision. "Prisoners? No, they don't!
Human nature has limitations, and failure would have been no discredit to Elspeth. "They were sayin' at the Presbytery," Burnbrae reported, "that it hes mair than seeventy heads, coontin' pints, of coorse, and a' can weel believe it. Na, na, it's no tae be expeckit that Elspeth cud gie them a' aifter ae hearin'." Jamie Souter looked in to set his mind at rest, and Elspeth went at once to work.
Domsie now essayed to read the news, but between the shaking of his hands and his voice he could not. "It's nae use," he cried, "he's first in the Humanity oot o' a hundred and seeventy lads, first o' them a', and he's first in the Greek too; the like o' this is hardly known, and it has na been seen in Drumtochty since there was a schule.
He was that big he wadna gang into the bag they had wi' them; so they cuttit him in twa halves; and the tae half they brocht to the station here to gang by rail to Embro'. Weel, if the tither half was as big, yon fish bud to be seeventy pund weight; for the half o' him I weighed mysel, and it was better nor thirty-five pund. Ay, a gran' kipper!"
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