"
"And which peasts wad your honour pe for having?"
"Why--let me see--the two black--the dun one--yon doddy--him with the
twisted horn--and brockit--How much by the head?"
"Ah," said Robin, "your honour is a shudge--a real shudge--I couldna
have set off the pest six peasts petter myself, me that ken them as if
they were my pairns, puir things."
"Well, how much per head, Sawney," continued Mr. Ireby.
"It was high markets at Doune and Falkirk," answered Robin.
And thus the conversation proceeded, until they had agreed on the
_prix juste_ for the bullocks, the Squire throwing in the temporary
accommodation of the enclosure for the cattle into the boot, and Robin
making, as he thought, a very good bargain, providing the grass was
but tolerable. The Squire walked his pony alongside of the drove,
partly to show him the way, and see him put into possession of the
field, and partly to learn the latest news of the northern markets.
They arrived at the field, and the pasture seemed excellent. But what
was their surprise when they saw the bailiff quietly inducting the
cattle of Harry Wakefield into the grassy Goshen which had just been
assigned to those of Robin Oig M'Combich by the proprietor himself.
Squire Ireby set spurs to his horse, dashed up to his servant, and
learning what had passed between the parties, briefly informed the
English drover that his bailiff had let the ground without his
authority, and that he might seek grass for his cattle wherever he
would, since he was to get none there.
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