t was the
end of it.

It was about this time o' the year; my grandfaither was out at the white
fishing; and like a bairn, I buet to gang wi' him. We had a grand take, I
mind, and the way that the fish lay broucht us near in by the Bass,
whaur we forgathered wi' anither boat that belanged to a man Sandie
Fletcher in Castleton. He's no' lang deid neither, or ye could speir at
himsel'. Weel, Sandie hailed.

"What's yon on the Bass?" says he.

"On the Bass?" says grandfaither.

"Ay," says Sandie, "on the green side o't."

"Whatten kind of a thing?" says grandfaither. "There canna be naething
on the Bass but just the sheep."

"It looks unco like a body," quo' Sandie, who was nearer in.

"A body!" says we, and we nane of us likit that. For there was nae boat
that could have broucht a man, and the key o' the prison yett hung ower
my faither's heid at hame in the press bed.

We keept the twa boats closs for company, and crap in nearer hand.
Grandfaither had a gless, for he had been a sailor, and the captain of a
smack, and had lost her on the sands of Tay. And when we took the gless
to it, sure eneuch there was a man. He was in a crunkle o' green brae, a
wee below the chaipel, a' by his lee-lane, and lowped and flang and
danced like a daft quean at a waddin'.

"It's Tod," says grandfaither, and passed the gless to Sandie.

"Ay, it's him," says Sandie.

"Or ane in the likeness o' him," says grandfaither.

"Sma' is the differ," quo' Sandie. "Deil or warlock, I'll try the gun
at him," quo' he, and broucht up a fowling-piece that he aye carried,
for Sandie was a notable famous shot in a' that country.

"Haud your hand, Sandie," says grandfaither; "we maun see clearer
first," says he, "or this may be a dear day's wark to the baith of us."

"Hout!" says Sandie, "this is the Lord's judgments surely, and be damned
to it!" says he.

"Maybe ay, and maybe no," says my grandfaither, worthy man! "But have
you a mind of the Procurator Fiscal, that I think ye'll have forgathered
wi' before," says he.

This was ower true, and Sandie was a wee thing set ajee. "Aweel, Edie,"
says he, "and what would be your way of it?"

"Ou, just this," says grandfaither. "Let me that has the fastest boat
gang back to North Berwick, and let you bide here and keep an eye on
Thon. If I canna find Lapraik, I'll join ye, and the twa of us'll have a
crack wi' him. But if Lapraik's at hame, I'll rin up the flag at the
harbour, and ye can try Thon