heid.

A' the loons startit to the lauchin', an' the captain roars again, "Ay,
but how is't?"

"Ye can easy see how it is," says Sandy. "The ba' strack him a yark on
the kut."

There was mair lauchin', an' I saw Sandy was gettin' raised.

"Is't l--b--w., ye stewpid auld bloit?" said the impident little wisgan
o' a captain, stickin' himsel' up afore Sandy.

"I'll l--b--double you," says Sandy, "if ye gie me ony o' your chat, ye
half-cled horn-goloch 'at ye are"; and he took the sacket a kleip i'
the side o' the heid wi' his open luif that tummeled him ower the tap
o' the wickets like a puckle rags. In half a meenit a' the hunder
laddies were round Sandy, an' him layin' amon' them wi' ane o' their
ain wickets.

I'll swag the Gallyfloor C.C. got something frae their pattern lest
Setarday efternune that they'll no forget in a hurry. Some men on the
Common cam' doon an' shoo'd the loons awa' frae pappin' Sandy wi' duds,
an' we got hame withoot any farrer mishap; but a' forenicht I heard
Sandy wirrin' awa' till himsel', an' sayin' ilky noo an'
than--"Ill-gettit little deevils; an' me gae them an' orange box too!"

Nathan cam' in juist afore I shut the shop, an' tell'd Sandy that there
had been an' awfu' row on the Common. "Some o the lads i' the
Callyfloor," said Nathan, "were blamin'the captain for gien you cheek,
an' said the wallop i' the lug he got saired him richt. So he got on
his jeckit an' his buits, an' got a haud o' the best bat an' the ba',
an' then he roars a' his micht, 'The club's broken up.' You never saw
sic a row as there was. Willy Mollison's i' the club, an' he's gotten
three bails an' a wicket. That's better gin naething. I nailed twa o'
the bails till him out o' Tarn Dargie's pooch, when he was fechtin' wi'
the captain. Snapper Morrison didna get onything; but he ower the
Common dyke an' in the road; an' when I was comin' hame I saw him
leggin' in the Loan wi' the orange box on his heid. He had nabbit it
oot o' Tooties' Nook, whaur they keepit their bats an' wickets. It's a
gude thing they're broken up at onyrate. I'm in the Collie Park, an'
they're the only club that cud lick his lads."

"O, that's a' richt," says Sandy; an' awa' he gaed, as pleased as you
like. When I dandered doon the yaird to get a breath o' fresh air,
efter I shut the shop, here's him tumblin' catmas, an' stanin' on his
heid i' the middle o' the green, gien Nathan an' twa or three ither
loons coosies! Did you