I'll stand Hobbie's feud, and a' his clan's.

But it's not so much for that, as to gie him a lesson not to let his tongue gallop ower freely about his betters.

I trow he will hae lost the best pen-feather o' his wing before to-morrow morning .-- Farewell, Elshie; there's some canny boys waiting for me down amang the shaws, owerby; I will see you as I come back, and bring ye a blithe tale in return for your leech-craft." Ere the Dwarf could collect himself to reply, the Reiver of Westburnflat set spurs to his horse.

The animal, starting at one of the stones which lay scattered about, flew from the path.

The rider exercised his spurs without moderation or mercy.