He was a wersh-lookin'
sowl, and I couldna understand the half o' his English tongue.'
I was getting restless those last days, and as soon as I felt myself
fit I decided to be off. That was not till the twelfth day of June,
and as luck would have it a drover went past that morning taking
some cattle to Moffat. He was a man named Hislop, a friend of
Turnbull's, and he came in to his breakfast with us and offered to
take me with him.
I made Turnbull accept five pounds for my lodging, and a hard
job I had of it. There never was a more independent being. He
grew positively rude when I pressed him, and shy and red, and
took the money at last without a thank you. When I told him how
much I owed him, he grunted something about 'ae guid turn
deservin' anither'. You would have thought from our leave-taking
that we had parted in disgust.
Hislop was a cheery soul, who chattered all the way over the pass
and down the sunny vale of Annan. I talked of Galloway markets
and sheep prices, and he made up his mind I was a 'pack-shepherd'
from those parts--whatever that may be. My plaid and my old hat,
as I have said, gave me a fine theatrical Scots look. But driving
cattle is a mortally slow job, and we took the better part of the day
to cover a dozen miles.
If I had not had such an anxious heart I would have enjoyed that
time.
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