as encouraged by the bailiff (who had his own reasons for
being offended against poor Robin, as having been the unwitting cause of
his falling into disgrace with his master), as well as by the innkeper,
and two or three chance guests, who soothed the drover in his resentment
against his quondam associate,--some from the ancient grudge against the
Scots, which, when it exists any where, is to be found lurking in the
Border counties, and some from the general love of mischief, which
characterizes mankind in all ranks of life, to the honour of Adam's
children be it spoken. Good John Barleycorn also, who always heightens
and exaggerates the prevailing passions, be they angry or kindly, was
not wanting in his offices on this occasion; and confusion to false
friends and hard masters, was pledged in more than one tankard.

In the meanwhile, Mr. Ireby found some amusement in detaining the
northern drover at his ancient hall. He caused a cold round of beef
to be placed before the Scot in the butler's pantry, together with a
foaming tankard of home-brewed, and took pleasure in seeing the hearty
appetite with which these unwonted edibles were discussed by Robin Oig
M'Combich. The squire himself lighting his pipe, compounded between his
patrician dignity and his love of agricultural gossip, by walking up and
down while he conversed with his guest.

"I passed another drove," said the squire, with one of your countrymen
behind them, they were something less beasts than your drove--doddies
most of them; a big man was with them--none of your kilts though, but
a decent pair of breeches;--d'ye know who he may be?"

"Hout ay--that might, could, and would pe Hughie Morrison--I didna
think he could hae peen sae weel up. He has made a day on us; put his
Argyle-shires will have wearied shanks. How far was he pehind?"

"I think about six or seven miles," answered the squire, "for I passed
them at the Christenbury Cragg, and I overtook you at the Hollan Bush.
If his beasts be leg-weary, he will be may be selling bargains."

"Na, na, Hughie Morrison is no the man for pargains--ye maun come to
some Highland body like Robin Oig hersell for the like of these;--put
I maun be wishing you good night, and twenty of them, let alane ane,
and I maun down to the Clachan to see if the lad Henry Waakfelt is out
of his humdudgeons yet."

The party at the alehouse were still in full talk, and the treachery
of Robin Oig still the theme of conversation, whe