But we had to pay for the distinction, for from that moment he favoured
us with a prodigious deal of his conversation, which, to tell the truth,
savoured but seldom of wit and often of rank sculduddery.

Birsay had no sense of his personal dishonour, and would tell the most
alarming story to his own discredit, without wincing in the least. He
held it proof of his superior caution that he had always managed to keep
his skin safe, and so there was no more to be said.

"Ay, ay," said Birsay, "these are no canny times to be amang the wild
hill-folk. Yin wad need to be weel payed for it a'. There's the twa
black MacMichaels--they wad think nae mair o' splatterin' your harns
again the dyke than o' killing a whutterick. Deil a hair! An' then, on
the ither hand, there's ill-contrived turncoats like Westerha' that wad
aye be pluff-pluffin' poother and shot at puir men as if they were
muir-fowl. An' he's no parteecler eneuch ava wha he catches, an' never
will listen to a word.

"Then, waur than a', there's the awesome nichts whan the ghaists and
warlocks are aboot. I canna bide the nicht ava. God's daylicht is guid
eneuch for Birsay, an' as lang as the sun shines, there's nae fear o'
deil or witch-wife gettin' haud o' the puir cobbler chiel! But when the
gloamin' cuddles doon intil the lap o' the nicht, and the corp-cannles
lowe i' the bogs, an' ye hear the deils lauchin' and chunnerin' to
themselves in a' the busses at the road-sides, I declare every stound o'
manhood flees awa' clean oot o' Birsay's heart, an' he wad like to dee
but for thocht o' the After come. An' deed, in the mirk-eerie midnicht,
whether he's fearder to dee or to leeve, puir Birsay disna ken!"

"But, Birsay," I said, "ill-doers are aye ill-dreaders. Gin ye were to
drap a' this thievery an' clash-carryin' wark, ye wadna be feared o' man
or deil!"

"Weel do I ken," Birsay said, "that siccan ploys are no for the like o'
me; but man, ye see, like ither folk, I'm terrible fond o' the siller.
An' there's nocht so comfortin', when a' thae things are yammerin' to
get haud o' ye, as the thocht that ye hae a weel-filled stockin'-fit
whaur nane but yersel' can get haud o't!"

And the creature writhed himself in glee and slapped his thigh.

"Yae stockin' fu', man," he said, "an' tied wi' a string, an' the ither
begun, an' as far up as the instep. O man, it's blythe to think on!

"But heard ye o' the whummel I gat aff this verra Duchrae kitchen laft?"
said Bi