k him! I s' gie him a hidin'," said a burly sutor
(shoemaker) coming up. "Thae loons are no to be borne wi' ony langer."

And he caught Alec by the arm.

"I didn't do it," persisted Alec.

"Wha killed Rob Bruce's dog?" asked the sutor, squeezing Alec's arm to
point the question.

"I did," answered Alec; "and I will do yours the same guid turn, gin he
worries bairns."

"And quite richt, too!" said the sutor's wife. "Lat him gang, Donal.
I'll be boun' he's no ane o' them."

"Tell's a' aboot it, than. Hoo cam ye up there?"

"I gaed up to tak the divot aff o' Lucky Lapp's lum. Spier at her. Ance
up I thocht I micht gie the lave o' ye a gude turn, and this is a' I
get for't."

"Weel, weel! Come in and warm ye, than," said the shoemaker, convinced
at last.

So Alec went in and had a chat with them, and then went on to George
Macwha's.

The carpenter took to his scheme at once. Alec was a fair hand at all
sorts of tool-work; and being on the friendliest terms with Macwha, it
was soon arranged that the keel should be laid in the end of the
workshop, and that, under George's directions, and what help Willie
chose to render, Alec should build his boat himself. Just as they
concluded these preliminaries, in came Willie, wiping some traces of
blood from his nose. He made a pantomimic gesture of vengeance at Alec.

"What hae ye been efter noo, laddie?" asked his father.

"Alec's jist gien me a bluidy nose," said Willie.

"Hoo cam' that aboot? Ye weel deserved it, I hae nae doobt. Jist gie
him anither whan he wants it, Alec."

"What do ye mean, Curly?" asked Alec in amazement.

"Yon divot 'at ye flang aff o' Luckie Lapp's riggin'," said Curly,
"cam' richt o' the back o' my heid, as I lay o' the brae, and dang the
blude oot at my niz. That's a'.--Ye'll preten' ye didna see me, nae
doobt."

"I say, Curly," said Alec, putting his arm round his shoulders, and
leading him aside, "we maun hae nae mair o' this kin' o' wark. It's a
dam't shame! Do ye see nae differ atween chokin' an ill-faured tyke an'
chokin' a puir widow's lum?"

"'Twas only for fun."

"It's ill fun that baith sides canna lauch at, Curly."

"Rob Bruce wasna lauchin' whan he brocht the bick to the schuil, nor
yet whan he gaed hame again."

"That was nae fun, Curly. That was doonricht earnest."

"Weel, weel, Alec; say nae mair aboot it."

"No more I will. But gin I was you, Curly, I wad tak Lucky a seck o'
spales the morn."

"I'll tak them the