Donal must mind his cows, and the men must mind the horses, and Mistress Jean must mind her kitchen, but Sir Gibbie could go where he pleased.

He would go up Daurside; but he would not go just at once; that man might be on the outlook for him, and he wouldn't like to be shot.
People who were shot lay still, and were put into holes in the earth, and covered up, and he would not like that.
Thus he communed with himself as he went over the knoll.

On the other side he chose a tall patch of heather, and crept under.

How nice and warm and kind the heather felt, though it did hurt the weals dreadfully sometimes.

If he only had something to cover just them! There seemed to be one down his back as well as round his waist! And now Sir Gibbie, though not much poorer than he had been, really possessed nothing separable, except his hair and his nails--nothing therefore that he could call his, as distinguished from him.