ome; and perhaps not the less
inclined to bring his disputes to a pugilistic decision, because he
found few antagonists able to stand up to him in the boxing-ring.

It is difficult to say how Harry Wakefield and Robin Oig first became
intimates; but it is certain a close acquaintance had taken place
betwixt them, although they had apparently few common subjects of
conversation or of interest, so soon as their talk ceased to be of
bullocks. Robin Oig, indeed, spoke the English language rather
imperfectly upon any other topics but stots and kyloes, and Harry
Wakefield could never bring his broad Yorkshire tongue to utter a
single word of Gaelic. It was in vain Robin spent a whole morning,
during a walk over Minch Moor, in attempting to teach his companion to
utter, with true precision, the shibboleth llhu, which is the Gaelic
for a calf. From Traquair to Murder cairn, the hill rung with the
discordant attempts of the Saxon upon the unmanageable monosyllable,
and the heartfelt laugh which followed every failure. They had,
however, better modes of awakening the echoes; for Wakefield could sing
many a ditty to the praise of Moll, Susan, and Cicely, and Robin Oig
had a particular gift at whistling interminable pibrochs through all
their involutions, and, what was more agreeable to his companion's
southern ear, knew many of the northern airs, both lively and pathetic,
to which Wakefield learned to pipe a bass. Thus, though Robin could
hardly have comprehended his companion's stories about horse-racing,
and cock-fighting, or fox-hunting, and although his own legends of
clan-fights and creaghs, varied with talk of Highland goblins and fairy
folk, would have been caviare to his companion, they contrived
nevertheless to find a degree of pleasure in each other's company,
which had for three years back induced them to join company and travel
together, when the direction of their journey permitted. Each, indeed,
found his advantage in this companionship; for where could the
Englishman have found a guide through the Western Highlands like Robin
Oig M'Combich? and when they were on what Harry called the right side
of the Border, his patronage, which was extensive, and his purse, which
was heavy, were at all times at the service of his Highland friend, and
on many occasions his liberality did him genuine yeoman's service.

CHAPTER II

Were ever two such loving friends!--
How could they disagree?
Oh, thus it was, he l