e stelled, as if he
had been lookin' forrit to something, and his lips were set like a man
on a lang errand. And mair, his stick was grippit sae firm in his hand
that nae man could loose it, so they e'en let it be.

Then they tell't me the tale o't, how at the earliest licht they had
seen him wanderin' alang the sands, juist as they were putting out
their boats to sea. They wondered and watched him, till of a sudden he
turned to the water and wadit in, keeping straucht on till he was oot
o' sicht. They rowed a' their pith to the place, but they were ower
late. Yince they saw his heid appear abune water, still wi' his face
to the other side; and then they got his body, for the tide was rinnin'
low in the mornin'. I tell't them a' I kenned o' him, and they were
sair affected. "Puir cratur," said yin, "he's shurely better now."

So we brocht him up to the house and laid him there till the folk i'
the town had heard o' the business. Syne the procurator-fiscal came
and certifeed the death and the rest was left tae me. I got a wooden
coffin made and put him in it, juist as he was, wi' his staff in his
hand and his auld duds about him. I mindit o' my sworn word, for I was
yin o' the four that had promised, and I ettled to dae his bidding. It
was saxteen mile to the hills, and yin and twenty to the lanely tap
whaur he had howkit his grave. But I never heedit it. I'm a strong
man, weel-used to the walkin' and my hert was sair for the auld body.
Now that he had gotten deliverance from his affliction, it was for me
to leave him in the place he wantit. Forbye, he wasna muckle heavier
than a bairn.

It was a long road, a sair road, but I did it, and by seven o'clock I
was at the edge o' the muirlands. There was a braw mune, and a the
glens and taps stood out as clear as midday. Bit by bit, for I was gey
tired, I warstled ower the rigs and up the cleuchs to the Gled-head;
syne up the stany Gled-cleuch to the lang grey hill which they ca' the
Hurlybackit. By ten I had come to the cairn, and black i' the mune I
saw the grave. So there I buried him, and though I'm no a releegious
man, I couldna help sayin' ower him the guid words o' the Psalmist--

"As streams of water in the South,
Our bondage, Lord, recall."

So if you go from the Gled to the Aller, and keep far over the north
side of the Muckle Muneraw, you will come in time to a stony ridge
which ends in a cairn. There you will see the whole hill country of