ghty supper:

"That was a bonnie mare ye were riding."

"Aye," said the farmer. "An' she's as good as she's bonnie. There's no
her like in a' Cumberland."

"Wad ye sell?"

"Sell!" cried the farmer. "No for the value o' the hale countryside. Her
like canna be found. Sell! Never i' this world."

"Well, well," said Dicky, "I canna blame ye. She's a graund mare. But
they're kittle times, thir; I wad keep her close, or it micht happen
your stable micht be empty some morning."

"Stable!" roared the fanner boisterously. "Hey! man, ah pit her in no
stable. She sleeps wi' me, man, in my ain room. Ah'm a bachelor, ah am,
an' there's non' to interfere wi' me, and ivvery nicht she's tied to my
ain bed-post. Man, it's music to my ear to hear her champin' her corn a'
the nicht. Na, na! Ah trust her in no stable; an' ah'd like to see the
thief could steal her awa' oot o' my room withoot wakenin' me."

"Well, maybe ye're right," said Dicky. "But mind, there's some cunnin'
anes aboot. Ye'll hae a good lock on your door, nae doot?"

"Aye, I _have_ a good lock, as ye shall see," cried the farmer, caution
swamped in brandy and good fellowship. "What think ye o' that for a
lock?"

"Uhm--m!" murmured Dicky reflectively, carefully scrutinising lock and
key--and he was not unskilled in locks. "Aye, a good lock; a very good
lock. Yes, yes! Just what you want; the very thing. They'll no pick
that."

"No! They'll never pick _that_. Ho! Ho!" laughed the complacent farmer.

Then Dicky said he "maun be steppin'. It was gettin' late." And so,
after one more drink, and another "to the King, God bless him," and yet
one more to "themselves," and a fourth, just to see that the others went
the right way and behaved themselves, the two parted, the best and
dearest of friends.

It might have been the outcome of a good conscience, or perhaps it was
the soothing thought that he had made a good bargain, and had got those
bullocks at a figure lower than he had been prepared to pay; or,
possibly, it may only have been the outcome of that extra last glass or
two that he had had with Dicky. But whatever it was, the fact remained
that the farmer's slumbers that night were very profound, his snoring
heavier than common. Towards morning, but whilst yet the night was dark,
dreaming that he and the mare were swimming a deep and icy river, he
woke with a start. Everything was strangely still; even the mare made no
sound. And--surely it must be freezing! H