Thomas Yownie's the fell yin.

Ye'll no fickle Thomas Yownie." Dougal extricated from his pouch the fag of a cigarette, lit it, and puffed meditatively.

"I did a reckonissince mysel' this morning.

I was up at the Hoose afore it was light, and tried the door o' the coal-hole.

I doot they've gotten on our tracks, for it was lockit--aye, and wedged from the inside." Dickson brightened.