'Adam called him, resigned himself complacently to his lot;
recognizing, perhaps, his destiny.

Thenceforward the sour little man and the vicious puppy grew, as it
were, together. The two were never apart. Where M'Adam was, there was
sure to be his tiny attendant, bristling defiance as he kept ludicrous
guard over his master.

The little man and his dog were inseparable. M'Adam never left him even
at the Grange.

"I couldna trust ma Wullie at hame alone wi' the dear lad," was his
explanation. "I ken weel I'd come back to find a wee corpse on the
floor, and David singin':

'My heart is sair, I daur na tell,
My heart is sair for somebody.'

Ay, and he'd be sair elsewhere by the time I'd done wi' him--he! he!"

The sneer at David's expense was as characteristic as it was unjust.
For though the puppy and the boy were already sworn enemies, yet the
lad would have scorned to harm so small a foe. And many a tale did David
tell at Kenmuir of Red Wull's viciousness, of his hatred of him (David),
and his devotion to his master; how, whether immersed in the pig-bucket
or chasing the fleeting rabbit, he would desist at once, and bundle,
panting, up at his master's call; how he routed the tomcat and drove him
from the kitchen; and how he clambered on to David's bed and pinned him
murderously by the nose.

Of late the relations between M'Adam and James Moore had been unusually
strained. Though they were neighbors, communications between the two
were of the rarest; and it was for the first time for many a long
day that, on an afternoon shortly after Red Wull had come into his
possession, M'Adam entered the yard of Kenmuir, bent on girding at the
master for an alleged trespass at the Stony Bottom.

"Wi' yer permission, Mr. Moore," said the little man, "I'll wheestle ma
dog," and, turning, he whistled a shrill, peculiar note like the cry of
a disturbed peewit.

Straightway there came scurrying desperately up, ears back, head down,
tongue out, as if the world depended on his speed, a little tawny beetle
of a thing, who placed his forepaws against his master's ankles
and looked up into his face; then, catching sight of the strangers,
hurriedly he took up his position between them and M'Adam, assuming his
natural attitude of grisly defiance. Such a laughable spectacle he made,
that martial mite, standing at bay with bristles up and teeth bared,
that even James Moore smiled.

"Ma word! Ha' yo' brought his muzzle, man?