r, 'Na, deil an that's no something now!'

When our Liddesdale friend had heard the whole to an end, he shook his
great black head--'Weel, I'll uphaud there's baith gude and ill amang the
gipsies, and if they deal wi' the Enemy, it's a' their ain business and
no ours. I ken what the streeking the corpse wad be, weel eneugh. Thae
smuggler deevils, when ony o' them's killed in a fray, they 'll send for
a wife like Meg far eneugh to dress the corpse; od, it's a' the burial
they ever think o'! and then to be put into the ground without ony
decency, just like dogs. But they stick to it, that they 'll be streekit,
and hae an auld wife when they're dying to rhyme ower prayers, and
ballants, and charms, as they ca' them, rather than they'll hae a
minister to come and pray wi' them--that's an auld threep o' theirs; and
I am thinking the man that died will hae been ane o' the folk that was
shot when they burnt Woodbourne.'

'But, my good friend, Woodbourne is not burnt,' said Bertram.

'Weel, the better for them that bides in't,' answered the store-farmer.
'Od, we had it up the water wi' us that there wasna a stane on the tap o'
anither. But there was fighting, ony way; I daur to say it would be fine
fun! And, as I said, ye may take it on trust that that's been ane o' the
men killed there, and that it's been the gipsies that took your pockmanky
when they fand the chaise stickin' in the snaw; they wadna pass the like
o' that, it wad just come to their hand like the bowl o' a pint stoup.'

'But if this woman is a sovereign among them, why was she not able to
afford me open protection, and to get me back my property?'

'Ou, wha kens? she has muckle to say wi' them, but whiles they'll tak
their ain way for a' that, when they're under temptation. And then
there's the smugglers that they're aye leagued wi', she maybe couldna
manage them sae weel. They're aye banded thegither; I've heard that the
gipsies ken when the smugglers will come aff, and where they're to land,
better than the very merchants that deal wi' them. And then, to the boot
o' that, she's whiles cracked-brained, and has a bee in her head; they
say that, whether her spaeings and fortune-tellings be true or no, for
certain she believes in them a' hersell, and is aye guiding hersell by
some queer prophecy or anither. So she disna aye gang the straight road
to the well. But deil o' sic a story as yours, wi' glamour and dead folk
and losing ane's gate, I ever heard out o'