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Updated: June 7, 2025
'I suppose I micht as weel jine your lot, said Willie, carelessly. Macgregor drew himself up. 'The 9th H.L.I, doesna accep' onything that offers. 'I'm as guid as you an' I'm bigger nor you. 'Ye're bigger, but ye're peely-wally. Still, Wullie, I wud like fine to see ye in ma company. 'Ye've a neck on ye! Your company! . . . Aweel, come on an' see me dae it.
"Come on, Wullie!" he cried. "'Scots wha hae'! Noo's the day and noo's the hour! Come on!" On the table before him, serene and beautiful, stood the target of his madness. The little man ran at it, swinging his murderous weapon like a flail. "Oor's or naebody's Wullie! Come on!
"He'd give his right hand for his bless'd Wullie to win; I'd give me right arm to see him beat.... And oor Bob there all the while," he nodded to the far left of the line, where stood James Moore and Owd Bob, with Parson Leggy and the Squire. When at length Red Wull came out to run his course, he worked with the savage dash that always characterized him.
An unsteady hand fumbles at the door; a reedy voice calls, "Wullie, come here!" and the dogs move away, surly to either side of the fireplace, tails down, ears back, grumbling still; the picture of cowed passion. Then the door opens; Tammas enters, grinning; and each, after a moment's scrutiny, resumes his former position before the fire.
He turned, still smiling, to Red Wull. "There ye are, Wullie!" He threw the photograph to the dog. "Tear her, Wullie, the Jezebel!" The Tailless Tyke sprang on the picture, placed one big paw in the very centre of the face, forcing it into the muck, and tore a corner off; then he chewed the scrap with unctious, slobbering gluttony, dropped it, and tore a fresh piece. David dashed forward.
'And wha is't tou's gotten, Wullie, lad? said half a score of voices, while all eyes were turned on your humble servant, who kept the best countenance he could, though not quite easy at becoming the centre to which all eyes were pointed. 'I ken him by his hemmed cravat, said one fellow; 'it's Gil Hobson, the souple tailor frae Burgh.
"Man," a voice whispered, and a face, white and pitiful, like a mother's pleading for her child, looked into his "Man, ye'll no tell them a' I'd no like 'em to ken 'twas ma Wullie. Think an 't had bin yer ain dog." "You may trust me!" the other answered thickly. The little man stretched out a palsied hand. "Gie us yer hand on't. And G-God bless ye, James Moore!"
"Bide a wee, Wullie he! he! Bide a wee. 'The best-laid schemes o' mice and men Gang aft agley." As he spoke, there came down to him, above the tumult, a faint cry of mingled surprise and anger. The cheering ceased abruptly. There was silence; then there burst on the stillness a hurricane of indignation. The crowd surged forward, then turned. Every eye was directed across the stream.
The next time Wullie was with her, and half-way up the incline they found apple blossom growing about one foot from the ground on a little sapling with a crabbed, thick trunk. "Why, look at that little apple tree, Wullie how brave of it! I'm going to root it up and take it to my garden. It can never live here in the sand and the wind."
Macgregor's head wagged feebly on the pillow. 'There's a bonny mix-up somewhaur, he said; 'it was Wullie saved ma life. Then, with an effort 'When did ye see her? 'Now understand, Macgregor, there must be no excitement. You must keep calm. I am doing my best to break it gently. H'm, h'm! As a matter of fac', I seen saw your fiancy about ten minutes ago. She is without! 'Wi'oot what?
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