he had stolen the beasts,
though the latter, having never set eyes on Dicky, had no idea of whom
he was talking to.

"Oh," said the man, "they were fine, muckle, fat beasts, red, baith o'
them, ane wi' a bally face, an' the tither wi' its near horn sair turned
in." And some other notable peculiarities the farmer mentioned, such as
might strike a man skilled in cattle.

"We-el," answered Dicky thoughtfully, "now that ye mention it, I believe
I did see sic a pair, or twa very like them, no later agone than
yesterday afternoon. If I'm no mista'en, they're rinnin' on Maister
----'s farm, no far frae Lanercost."

"Man, ah'm that obleeged to ye. But ah'm that deid tired wi' walkin',
seekin' them, ah canna gang that far," said the farmer. "That's a gey
guid mare ye're ridin'. Ye wadna be for sellin' her, likely?"

"Oh aye, I'll sell. But she's a braw mare; there's no her like i' the
countryside, or in a' Northumberland. I'll be wantin' a braw price."
Dicky was always ready for a deal, and in this instance of course it
suited him very well to get rid of his steed.

So, after some chaffering, Dicky was promised his "braw price," and he
accompanied the farmer home to get the money. A long way it was. The
farmer perforce walked, but Dicky, with native caution, rode, for, said
he, in excuse to his companion:

"I'm loth to part wi' my good auld mare, for I've never owned her like.
Sae I'll jist tak' a last bit journey on her."

In due course Dicky got his money, and food and drink, as much as he
could swallow, into the bargain. Then the farmer rode away for
Lanercost; and Dicky, of course, remembered that he had business in a
different part of the country.

Sure enough, when the farmer reached Lanercost there were his bullocks
contentedly grazing in a field, while contemplatively gazing at them
stood an elderly man, with damaged face.

Up rode the farmer on the mare.

"Here!" shouted he angrily, "what the de'il are ye doin' wi' my
bullocks?"

"Wh-a-at?" bellowed the other with equal fury. "_Your_ bullocks! And be
d----d to ye! If it comes to that, what the de'il are _ye_ doin' ridin'
my mare? I'll hae the law o' ye for stealin' her, ye scoondrel! Come
_doon_ oot o' my saiddle afore ah pu' ye doon." And the two elderly men,
each red in the face as a "bubbly jock," both spluttering and almost
speechless with rage, glared at each other, murder in their eyes.

Then came question and answer, and mutual explanation, and gr