in a flood of misty Doric, and his voice grew rough at times, and he
poked viciously at the dying peat.

In the last back-end I was at Gledfoot wi' sheep, and a weary job I had
and little credit. Ye ken the place, a lang dreich shore wi' the wind
swirlin' and bitin' to the bane, and the broun Gled water choked wi'
Solloway sand. There was nae room in ony inn in the town, so I bude to
gang to a bit public on the Harbour Walk, where sailor-folk and
fishermen feucht and drank, and nae dacent men frae the hills thocht of
gangin'. I was in a gey ill way, for I had sell't my beasts dooms
cheap, and I thocht o' the lang miles hame in the wintry weather. So
after a bite o' meat I gangs out to get the air and clear my heid,
which was a' rammled wi' the auction-ring.

And whae did I find, sittin' on a bench at the door, but the auld man
Yeddie. He was waur changed than ever. His lang hair was hingin' over
his broo, and his face was thin and white as a ghaist's. His claes
fell loose about him, and he sat wi' his hand on his auld stick and his
chin on his hand, hearin' nocht and glowerin' afore him. He never saw
nor kenned me till I shook him by the shoulders, and cried him by his
name.

"Whae are ye?" says he, in a thin voice that gaed to my hert.

"Ye ken me fine, ye auld fule," says I. "I'm Jock Rorison o' the
Redswirehead, whaur ye've stoppit often."

"Redswirehead," he says, like a man in a dream. "Redswirehead! That's
at the tap o' the Clachlands Burn as ye gang ower to the Dreichil."

"And what are ye daein' here? It's no your countryside ava, and ye're
no fit noo for lang trampin'."

"No," says he, in the same weak voice and wi' nae fushion in him, "but
they winna hae me up yonder noo. I'm ower auld and useless. Yince
a'body was gled to see me, and wad keep me as lang's I wantit, and had
aye a gud word at meeting and pairting. Noo it's a' changed, and my
wark's dune."

I saw fine that the man was daft, but what answer could I gie to his
havers? Folk in the Callowa Glens are as kind as afore, but ill
weather and auld age had put queer notions intil his heid. Forbye, he
was seeck, seeck unto death, and I saw mair in his een than I likit to
think.

"Come in-by and get some meat, man," I said. "Ye're famishin' wi'
cauld and hunger."

"I canna eat," he says, and his voice never changed. "It's lang since
I had a bite, for I'm no hungry. But I'm awfu' thirsty. I cam here
yestreen, and I can get