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"The Skeighan Road! the Skeighan Road! Who'll he be going to see in that airt? Will it be Templandmuir?" "Gosh, it canna be Templandmuir; he was there no later than yestreen!" "Here's a man coming down the brae!" announced Johnny Coe, in a solemn voice, as if a man "coming down the brae" was something unusual. In a moment every head was turned to the hill.
"Man," he lied blandly, but his voice was quivering "ma-a-an, I wasn't so much as giving ye a thoat! It's verra strange if I cannot pass a joke with my o-old friend Templandmuir without you calling me to book. It's a free country, I shuppose! Ye weren't in my mind at a-all. I have more important matters to think of," he ventured to add, seeing he had baffled Gourlay. For Gourlay was baffled.
Then, greatly to his own benefit, he succeeded in establishing a valuable connection with Templandmuir. It was partly by sheer impact of character that Gourlay obtained his ascendency over hearty and careless Templandmuir, and partly by a bluff joviality which he so little cunning in other things knew to affect among the petty lairds.
The man you saw trying to be jocose with Templandmuir was a very different being from the autocrat who "downed" his fellows in the town. It was all "How are ye the day, Templandmuir?" and "How d'ye doo-oo, Mr. Gourlay?" and the immediate production of the big decanter.
I'll have it out with the black brute myself," screamed the hardy dame, "if you're feared of his glower. If you havena the pluck for it, I have. Write, indeed! In you go to the meeting that oald ass of a Provost has convened, and don't show your face in Templandmuir till you have had it out with Gourlay!" No wonder the Templar looked subdued.
"James!" she shrilled, "James!" and the red-haired boy shot from the back premises. "Run up to the Red Lion, and see if your father has finished his crack wi' Templandmuir. Tell him Mr. Gibson wants to see him on important business." The boy squinted once at the visitor, and scooted, the red head of him foremost. While Gibson waited and clawed his chin she examined him narrowly.
More than ten years ago now Templandmuir gave this fine, dour upstanding friend of his a twelve-year tack of the Red Quarry, and that was the making of Gourlay. The quarry yielded the best building stone in a circuit of thirty miles, easy to work and hard against wind and weather.
"Damned fine do I make that out," yelled Templandmuir, and louder than ever was the yell. He was the brave man now, with his bellow to hearten him. "Damned fine do I make that out. You charged me for a whole day, though half o't was spent upon your own concerns. I'm tired o' you and your cheatry. You've made a braw penny out o' me in your time. But curse me if I endure it loanger.
"Evidently not," yelled Wilson, "since you're still alive!" A roar went up against Gourlay. All he could do was to scowl before him, with hard-set mouth and gleaming eyes, while they bellowed him to scorn. "I would like to hear what Templandmuir has to say on the subject," said Wilson, getting up. "But no doubt he'll follow his friend Mr. Gourlay." "No, I don't follow Mr.
"Ay, man, John!" he said heavily, "you're there!" Heavy Scotsmen are fond of telling folk that they are where they are. "You're there!" said Templandmuir. "Ay," said John, the simpleton, "I'm here." In the grime of the boy's face there were large white circles round the eyes, showing where his fists had rubbed off the tears through the day. "How are you doing at the school?" said the Templar.
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