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At the sight of the Master M'Adam hurried forward. "I did but come to ask after the tyke," he said, "Is he gettin' over his lameness?" James Moore looked surprised; then his stern face relaxed into a cordial smile. Such generous anxiety as to the welfare of Red Wull's rival was a wholly new characteristic in the little man. "I tak' it kind in yo', M'Adam," he said, "to come and inquire."
David rose from his chair and walked across the room to where his father sat. "If yo' know sic a mighty heap," he shouted, "happen you'll just tell me what yo' do know!" M'Adam stopped stroking Red Wull's massive head, and looked up. "Tell ye? Ay, wha should I tell if not ma dear David? Tell? Ay, I'll tell ye this" with a sudden snarl of bitterness "That you'd be the vairy last person I wad tell."
Through the heather the two swung, the Master thinking now with a smile of David and Maggie; wondering what M'Adam had meant; musing with a frown on the Killer; pondering on his identity for he was half of David's opinion as to Red Wull's innocence; and thanking his stars that so far Kenmuir had escaped, a piece of luck he attributed entirely to the vigilance of Th' Owd Un, who, sleeping in the porch, slipped out at all hours and went his rounds, warding off danger.
"I've heard naethin' o't," the little man answered dryly. At which some one in the crowd sniggered. "And we all know what a grand dog he is; though" with a reproving smile as she glanced at Red Wull's square, truncated stern "he's not very polite." "His heart is good, your Leddyship, if his manners are not," M'Adam answered, smiling. "Liar!" came a loud voice in the silence.
"Ma wee Wull's bin stolen while I was ben your hoose, James Moore!" "Yo' munna say that, ma mon. No robbin' at Kenmuir," the Master answered sternly. "Then where is he? It's for you to say." "I've ma own idee, I 'aye," Sam'l announced opportunely, pig-bucket uplifted. M'Adam turned on him. "What, man? What is it?"
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