"What else?" said Davie coolly. "Would I lie here till spring and my leg mendin' into the Lord kens what-like shape? Would I be lettin' ony ither drive the horses my feyther entrustit to my lone? Would I be dependin' on Mr. Pinnager for keep, and me idle? Man, I'd eat the horses' heads off that way; at home they'd be profit to my feyther. So it's me and them that starts at gray the morn's morn."
"Alone!" exclaimed Pinnager.
"Just that, man. What for no?"
"You're light-headed, Davie. A lad with his leg broke can't drive three days."
"Maybe yes and maybe no. I'm for it, onyhow."
"It may snow, it may——"
"Aye, or rain, or thaw, or hail; the Lord's no in the habit o' makin' weather suit ony but himsel'. But I'm gawn; the cost of a man wi' me would eat the wages ye're owing my feyther."
"I'll lose his team, anyhow," said Pinnager, "and me needing it bad. A driver with you could bring back the horses."
"Nay, my feyther will trust his beasts to nane but himsel' or his sons. But I'll have yer case in mind, Pinnager; it's a sore needcessity you're in. I'll ask my feyther to send back the team, and another to the tail of it; it's like that Tam and Neil will be home by now. And I'll spread word how ye're needin' teams, Pinnager; it's like your neighbors will send ye in sax or eight spans."
"Man, that's a grand notion, Davie! But you can't go alone; it's clean impossible."