There's ower mony o' them, and they're no the safe colour.

We'll be baith hangt, as sure's there's a deevil in hell.' As he said thus, he went on trying to pick the buttons from the coat, taking them for sovereigns, though how he could have seen a sovereign at that time in Scotland I can only conjecture.

But Robert caught him by the shoulders, and shook him awake with no gentle hands, upon which he began to rub his eyes, and mutter sleepily: 'Is that you, Bob?
I hae been dreamin', I doobt.' 'Gin ye dinna learn to dream quaieter, ye'll get you and me tu into mair trouble nor I care to hae aboot ye, ye rascal.

Haud the tongue o' ye, and eat this tawtie, gin ye want onything mair.

And here's a bit o' reamy cakes tu ye.