"It's cripple Truffey's?" piped a shrill little voice.
"Tell him 'at I'll account for't," rejoined Thomas, and putting the animal in his pocket, departed.
He took the nearest way to George Macwha's workshop, where he found Alec and Curly, as he had expected, busy or appearing to be busy about something belonging to their boat. They looked considerably hotter, however, than could be accounted for by their work. This confirmed Thomas's suspicions.
"A fine ploy yon for a young gentleman, Alec!" said he.
"What ploy, Thomas?" asked Alec, with attempted innocence.
"Ye ken weel eneuch what ploy I mean, man."
"Weel, supposin' I do—there's nae that muckle hairm dune, to mak' a wark aboot, surely, Thomas."
"Ca' ye that no hairm?" rejoined Thomas, pulling the dead rabbit out of his pocket, and holding it up by the ears. "Ca' ye that no hairm?" he repeated.
Alec stared in dismay. Thomas well knew his regard for animals, and had calculated upon it.
"Luik at the puir thing wi' its bonny reid een closed for ever! It's a mercy to think 'at there's no lemin' and lowin' (blazing and flaming) future in store for hit, puir mappy (bunny)!"