“Nae doobt,” said Malcolm, “yer ain jeedgement’s mair to ye nor my word, Girnel; but saw ye ever onything in me ’at wad justifee ye in no lippenin’ to that sae far ’s it gaed?”
“Ow na! I’m no sayin’ that naither. But what ha’e ye to shaw anent the privin’ o’ ’t?”
“I have papers signed by my father, the late marquis, and sealed and witnessed by well-known gentlemen of the neighbourhood.”
“Whaur are they?” said Girnel, holding out his hand.
“I don’t carry such valuable things about me,” answered Malcolm. “But if you go with the rest, you shall see them afterwards.”
“I’ll du naething i’ the dark,” persisted Girnel. “Whan I see the peppers, I’ll ken what to du.”
With a nod of the head as self-important as decisive, he turned his back.
“At all events,” said Malcolm, “you will say nothing about it before you hear from one of us again?”
“I mak nae promises,” answered Girnel, from behind his own back.
A howl arose from the rest.