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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"Catriona"

"I ken naething else, as the French folk
say. But this is a dreidful case of heids or tails. O! if I could
but ken where your gentry were!"
"Alan," said I, "this is no like you. It's got to be now or
never."

"This is no me, quo' he,"

sang Alan, with a queer face betwixt shame and drollery.

"Neither you nor me, quo' he, neither you nor me.
Wow, na, Johnnie man! neither you nor me."

And then of a sudden he stood straight up where he was, and with a
handkerchief flying in his right hand, marched down upon the beach.
I stood up myself, but lingered behind him, scanning the sand-hills
to the east. His appearance was at first unremarked: Scougal not
expecting him so early, and MY GENTRY watching on the other side.
Then they awoke on board the Thistle, and it seemed they had all in
readiness, for there was scarce a second's bustle on the deck
before we saw a skiff put round her stern and begin to pull lively
for the coast. Almost at the same moment of time, and perhaps half
a mile away towards Gillane Ness, the figure of a man appeared for
a blink upon a sandhill, waving with his arms; and though he was
gone again in the same flash, the gulls in that part continued a
little longer to fly wild.


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