Then he scrambled from one chimney to the other, and went on pitching the sods down the hill.

At length two of the inhabitants, who had climbed up at the other end of the row, met him, and taking him for a repentant sinner at best, made him prisoner, much to his amusement, and brought him down, protesting that it was too bad of gentle-folk's sons to persecute the poor in that way.
"I didn't do it," said Alec.
"Dinna lee," was the curt rejoinder.
"I'm no leein'." "Wha did it, than ?" "I can guiss; an' it shanna happen again, gin I can help it." "Tell's wha did it, than." "I wonno say names." "He's ane o' them." "The foul thief tak him! I s' gie him a hidin'," said a burly sutor (shoemaker) coming up.

"Thae loons are no to be borne wi' ony langer." And he caught Alec by the arm.
"I didn't do it," persisted Alec.
"Wha killed Rob Bruce's dog ?" asked the sutor, squeezing Alec's arm to point the question.
"I did," answered Alec; "and I will do yours the same guid turn, gin he worries bairns." "And quite richt, too!" said the sutor's wife.

"Lat him gang, Donal.
I'll be boun' he's no ane o' them." "Tell's a' aboot it, than.

Hoo cam ye up there ?" "I gaed up to tak the divot aff o' Lucky Lapp's lum.