Gibbie obeyed, and followed, as, with slow step and downbent face, Donal led the way.

For he had tucked his club under his arm, and already his greedy eyes were fixed on the book he had carried all the time, nor did he take them from it until, followed in full and patient content by Gibbie, he had almost reached the middle of the field, some distance from Hornie and her companions, when, stopping abruptly short, he began without lifting his head to cast glances on this side and that.
"I houp nane o' them's swallowed my nepkin!" he said musingly.

"I'm no sure whaur I was sittin'.

I hae my place i' the beuk, but I doobt I hae tint my place i' the gerse." Long before he had ended, for he spoke with utter deliberation, Gibbie was yards away, flitting hither and thither like a butterfly.
A minute more and Donal saw him pounce upon his bundle, which he brought to him in triumph.
"Fegs! ye're no the gowk I took ye for," said Donal meditatively.
Whether Gibbie took the remark for a compliment, or merely was gratified that Donal was pleased, the result was a merry laugh.
The bundle had in it a piece of hard cheese, such as Gibbie had already made acquaintance with, and a few quarters of cakes.

One of these Donal broke in two, gave Gibbie the half, replaced the other, and sat down again to his book--this time with his back against the fell-dyke dividing the grass from the corn.