"Ay, Davie, ye're a queer character," says he, when I had done: "a
queer bitch after a', and I have no mind of meeting with the like
of ye. As for your story, Prestongrange is a Whig like yoursel',
so I'll say the less of him; and, dod! I believe he was the best
friend ye had, if ye could only trust him. But Simon Fraser and
James More are my ain kind of cattle, and I'll give them the name
that they deserve. The muckle black deil was father to the
Frasers, a'body kens that; and as for the Gregara, I never could
abye the reek of them since I could stotter on two feet. I
bloodied the nose of one, I mind, when I was still so wambly on my
legs that I cowped upon the top of him. A proud man was my father
that day, God rest him! and I think he had the cause. I'll never
can deny but what Robin was something of a piper," he added; "but
as for James More, the deil guide him for me!"
"One thing we have to consider," said I. "Was Charles Stewart
right or wrong? Is it only me they're after, or the pair of us?"
"And what's your ain opinion, you that's a man of so much
experience?" said he.
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