It was mair nor ae year or twa 'at he leeved aboot the place, an' naebody cared muckle for his company, though a' body was ower feart to lat him ken he was na welcome here or there; for wha cud tell he micht oot wi' the swoord he aye carriet, an' mak an' en' o' 'im! For 'deed he fearna God nor man, ony mair nor the jeedge i' the Scriptur'.

He drank a heap--as for a' body at he ca'd upo' aye hed oot the whisky-bottle well willun' to please the man they war feart at." The voice of the old woman went sounding in the ears of the boy, on and on in the gloom, and through it, possibly from the still confused condition of his head, he kept constantly hearing the rimes she had repeated to him.

They seemed to have laid hold of him as of her, perhaps from their very foolishness, in an odd inexplicable way:-- Catch yer naig an' pu' his tail; In his hin' heel ca' a nail; Rug his lugs frae ane anither--Stan' up, an' ca' the king yer brither.
On and on went the rime, and on and on went the old woman's voice.
"Weel, there cam' a time whan an English lord begud to be seen aboot the place, an' that was nae comon sicht i' oor puir country.
He was a frien' fowk said, o' the yoong Markis o' Lossie, an' that was hoo 'he cam to sicht.

He gaed fleein' aboot, luikin' at this, an' luikin' at that; an' whaur or hoo he fell in wi' HIM, I dinna ken, but or lang the twa o' them was a heap thegither.

They playt cairts thegither, they drank thegither, they drave oot thegither--for the auld captain never crossed beast's back--an' what made sic frien's o' them nobody could imaigine.