n the sea wind came sweetly from the broad Firth and
the two slept, like vagabonds, on a haycock under the stars. The purest
pleasure Auld Jock ever knew was the taking of a bright farthing from
his pocket to pay for Bobby's delectable bone in Mr. Traill's place.

Given what was due him that morning and dismissed for the season to
find such work as he could in the city, Auld Jock did not question the
farmer's right to take Bobby "back hame." Besides, what could he do with
the noisy little rascal in an Edinburgh lodging? But, duller of wit than
usual, feeling very old and lonely, and shaky on his legs, and dizzy in
his head, Auld Jock parted with Bobby and with his courage, together.
With the instinct of the dumb animal that suffers, he stumbled into
the foul nook and fell, almost at once, into a heavy sleep. Out of that
Bobby roused him but briefly.

Long before his master awoke, Bobby finished his series of refreshing
little naps, sat up, yawned, stretched his short, shaggy legs, sniffed
at Auld Jock experimentally, and trotted around the bed of the cart on
a tour of investigation. This proving to be of small interest and no
profit, he lay down again beside his master, nose on paws, and waited
Auld Jock's pleasure patiently. A sweep of drenching rain brought the
old man suddenly to his feet and stumbling into the market place. The
alert little dog tumbled about him, barking ecstatically. The fever was
gone and Auld Jock's head quite clear; but in its place was a weakness,
an aching of the limbs, a weight on the chest, and a great shivering.

Although the bell of St. Giles was just striking the hour of five, it
was already entirely dark. A lamp-lighter, with ladder and torch, was
setting a double line of gas jets to flaring along the lofty parapets
of the bridge. If the Grassmarket was a quarry pit by day, on a night
of storm it was the bottom of a reservoir. The height of the walls was
marked by a luminous crown from many lights above the Castle head, and
by a student's dim candle, here and there, at a garret window. The huge
bulk of the bridge cast a shadow, velvet black, across the eastern half
of the market.

Had not Bobby gone before and barked, and run back, again and again,
and jumped up on Auld Jock's legs, the man might never have won his way
across the drowned place, in the inky blackness and against the slanted
blast of icy rain. When he gained the foot of Candlemakers Row, a
crescent of tall, old houses t