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"And Ay'se marked doon three woodcock two more beside yon big un, that measter Draa made siccan a bungle of and all t' quail every feather on um doon t' bog meadow yonner ooh! but we'se mak grand sport o't!" interposed Tim, now busily employed stringing bird after bird up by the head, with loops and buttons in the game-bag! "Well done then, all!" said Harry.
I wadna hae disturbit ye, sir, but I saw the twa een o' a wullcat, or sic like, glowerin' awa yonner i' the mirk, an' they fleyt me 'at I grippit ye." "Weel, weel; sit ye doon, bairnie," said the mad laird in a soothing voice; "the wullcat sanna touch ye. Ye're no fleyt at me, are ye?" "Na!" answered the child. "What for sud I be fleyt at you, sir? I'm Phemy Mair."
"Ten on 'em crossed the watter down yonner," said Gwenny, putting her hand to her mouth, and seeming to regard it as good news rather than otherwise: "be arl craping up by hedgerow now. I could shutt dree on 'em from the bar of the gate, if so be I had your goon, young man." "There is no time to lose, Gwenny.
I call upo' ilk ane o' ye 'at has a frien' or a neebor down yonner, to rise up an' taste nor bite nor sup mair till we gang up a'thegither to the fut o' the throne, and pray the Lord to lat's gang and du as the Maister did afore 's, and beir their griefs, and cairry their sorrows doon in hell there; gin it maybe that they may repent and get remission o' their sins, an' come up here wi' us at the lang last, and sit doon wi' 's at this table, a' throuw the merits o' oor Saviour Jesus Christ, at the heid o' the table there.
'Ten on 'em crossed the watter down yonner, said Gwenny, putting her hand to her mouth, and seeming to regard it as good news rather than otherwise: 'be arl craping up by hedgerow now. I could shutt dree on 'em from the bar of the gate, if so be I had your goon, young man. 'There is no time to lose, Gwenny.
He knew both the voice and the laugh, and, turning, saw Mrs Catanach, seated, apparently busy with her knitting, in the shade of the rock. "Weel?" he said curtly. "Weel! Set ye up! Wha's yon ye was play actin' wi' oot yonner?" "Wha telled ye to speir, Mistress Catanach?" "Ay, ay, laad! Ye'll be abune speykin' till an auld wife efter colloguin' wi' a yoong ane, an' sic a ane!
"How much of the story may be your own invention now?" said the marquis. "Ow, nae that muckle, my lord; jist a feow extras an' partic'lars 'at micht weel hae been, wi' an adjective, or an adverb, or sic like, here an' there. I made ae mistak' though; gien 't was you hole yonner, they bude till hae gane doon an' no up the stair to their chaumer."
It is not this that strikes dismay into the minds of those who are spectators, for it is now struck into their heart of hearts. On one figure of the cavalcade the eyes of both become fixed; he who rides at its head. Their attention had been first attracted to his horse, Wilder gasping out, soon as he set eyes on the animal, "Look yonner, Frank!" "At what?" "The fellur ridin' foremost.
Ay!" "The damned ill-faured brute, to bite Annie Anderson!" "But there's nae stanes to be gotten i' the snaw, General," said Cadger. "Ye gomeril! Ye'll get mair stanes nor ye'll carry, I doobt, up o' the side o' the toll-road yonner. Naething like road-metal!" A confused chorus of suggestions and exclamations now arose, in the midst of which Willie Macwha, whose cognomen was Curly-pow, came up.
"It's the custom i' this country to mak what answer a man has the sense to mak whan he's spoken till ceevily." "I considered you uncivil." "That's jist what a bonnie lassie sittin' yonner said aboot you whan she prayed me no to lat you gang a step nearer till her." Curly found it at the moment particularly agreeable to quarrel.
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