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Updated: June 24, 2025
So I blew my whistle for Thomas Yownie, who was in command o' the other half of us, with instructions to fall upon their rear. That brought Thomas up, and the tinklers had to face round about and fight a battle on two fronts. We charged them and they broke, and the last seen o' them they were coolin' their burns in the Garple." "Well done, man. Had you many casualties?"
"Here, men!" he called, and four figures rose from the side of the fire. As Dickson munched a sandwich he passed in review the whole company of the Gorbals Die-Hards, for the pickets were also brought in, two others taking their places. There was Thomas Yownie, the Chief of Staff, with a wrist wound up in the handkerchief which he had borrowed from his neck.
He had a voice of singular compass, and from the verandah he made it echo round the House. The efforts of Old Bill and Peter Paterson had been skilful indeed, but those of Thomas Yownie were deadly. To some leader beyond he shouted news: "Robison's just about finished wi' his lot, and then he'll get the boats." A furious charge upset him, and for a moment he thought he had been discovered.
Upstairs on the first floor Thomas Yownie had deposited the ladies' baggage, and was busy making beds out of derelict iron bedsteads and the wraps brought from their room. On the ground floor on a heap of litter covered by an old scout's blanket lay Heritage, with Dougal in attendance.
That's the first thing. Second, Thomas Yownie has took a party to get down the box from the station. He got Mrs. Sempills' powny, and he took the box ayont the Laver by the ford at the herd's hoose and got it on to the shore maybe a mile ayont Laverfoot.
As she spoke there came on the wind the dull reverberation of an explosion. "Keep us, what's that?" she cried. "It's dinnymite," said Peter Paterson. "That's the end o' the auld Tower," observed Thomas Yownie in his quiet, even voice. "And it's likely the end o' the man Heritage." "Lord peety us!" the old woman wailed. "And us standin' here like stookies and no' liftin' a hand.
Peter Paterson gave him a wee shove and he fell down the two-three steps into the cellar, and we turned the key on him. Yon cellar has a grand door and no windies." "And Dobson and Leon are at the verandah door? With a light?" "Thomas Yownie's on duty there. Ye can trust him. Ye'll no fickle Thomas Yownie."
He saw on the right a glow in the verandah, which, as we know, was the reflection of the flare in the hall, and he heard a babble of voices. But he heard something more, for away on his left was the sound which Thomas Yownie was soon to hear the trampling of horses.
Dougal received the travellers with the condescension of a regular towards civilians. "They're off their gawrd," he announced. "Thomas Yownie has been shadowin' them since skreigh o' day, and he reports that Dobson and Lean followed ye till ye were out o' sight o' the houses, and syne Lean got a spy-glass and watched ye till the road turned in among the trees.
It's a' safe in the hole at the foot o' the Huntingtower rocks, and he reports that the rain has done it no harm. Thomas has made a good job of it. Ye'll no' fickle Thomas Yownie." "And what about your camp on the moor?" "It was broke up afore daylight. Some of our things we've got with us, but most is hid near at hand.
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