everal women to the rescue, who had
already heard the news of the ignominious abduction of their honoured
_kye_, and their shameful exposure to public ridicule. Each made for
her own four-footed property.

"Guid preserve's, Hawkie! are ye come to this?" cried Lucky Lapp, as
she limped, still and ever lame with rheumatism, towards the third
member of the procession. "Gin I had the loon that did it," she went
on, fumbling, with a haste that defeated itself, at the knot that bound
Hawkie's nose to the tail of the cadger's horse--"gin I had the loon
'at did it, I wad ding the sowl oot o' his wame, the villain!"

"Losh! it's my ain cat, as weel's my ain coo." screamed Lucky Wattles
in twofold indignation. "Gin I cud but redd (comb) the scoonrel's heid
wi' your cleuks, Baudrons!" she added, as she fondled the cat
passionately, "he wadna be in sic a doom's hurry to han'le ye again,
Is' wad (wager)."

By this time Stumpin' Steenie, having undone his cow's tail, was
leading her home amid shouts of laughter.

"Pit her i' the lock-up, Steenie. She's been takin' up wi' ill loons,"
screeched an urchin.

"Haud yer ill tongue, or I s' tak' you up, ye rascal," bawled Steenie.

"Ye'll hae to saiddle Mistress Stephen afore ye can catch me, Stumpin'
Steenie!"

Steenie, inflamed with sudden wrath, forsook the cow, and made an
elephantine rush at the offender, who vanished in the crowd, and thus
betrayed the constable to another shout of laughter.

While the laugh was yet ringing, the burly figure of the stonemason
appeared, making his way by the momentum of great bulk and slow motion
to the front of the crowd. Without a word to any one, he drew a knife
from his pocket, and proceeded to cut every cord that bound the
helpless animals, the people staring silent all the while.

It was a sight to see how the dogs scampered off in the delight of
their recovered freedom. But the rabbit lay where the cat had left him.
Thomas took it with some sign of tenderness, and holding it up in his
huge hand, put the question to the crowd in general.

"Wha's aucht this?"

"It's cripple Truffey's?" piped a shrill little voice.

"Tell him 'at I'll account for't," rejoined Thomas, and putting the
animal in his pocket, departed.

He took the nearest way to George Macwha's workshop, where he found
Alec and Curly, as he had expected, busy or appearing to be busy about
something belonging to their boat. They looked considerably hotter,
however, than