"No kind of a hurry about the man?" he asked.
"Never a sign of it," said I.
"Nhm!" said Alan, "it looks queer. We saw nothing of them this
morning on the Whins; he's passed us by, he doesnae seem to be
looking, and yet here he is on our road! Dod, Davie, I begin to
take a notion. I think it's no you they're seeking, I think it's
me; and I think they ken fine where they're gaun."
"They ken?" I asked.
"I think Andie Scougal's sold me--him or his mate wha kent some
part of the affair--or else Charlie's clerk callant, which would be
a pity too," says Alan; "and if you askit me for just my inward
private conviction, I think there'll be heads cracked on Gillane
sands."
"Alan," I cried, "if you're at all right there'll be folk there and
to spare. It'll be small service to crack heads."
"It would aye be a satisfaction though," says Alan. But bide a
bit; bide a bit; I'm thinking--and thanks to this bonny westland
wind, I believe I've still a chance of it. It's this way, Davie.
I'm no trysted with this man Scougal till the gloaming comes.
BUT," says he, "IF I CAN GET A BIT OF A WIND OUT OF THE WEST I'LL
BE THERE LONG OR THAT," he says, "AND LIE-TO FOR YE BEHIND THE ISLE
OF FIDRA.
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