Then they went into matters thoroughly, and Drumsheugh gave judgment.
“Gin he hed back his implements, and Jean's coos, an' some o' the auld horse, an' maybe a dozen stirk, h 'd come oot richt aifter a'; a' didna hear the dealers boastin' aboot their bargains laist Friday,” he added with satisfaction.
There was a long pause in the conversation, during which Drumsheugh examined a loose slate on the roof of the church from three different points of view, and Jamie Soutar refreshed his remembrance of a neighbouring tombstone.
“Div ye mean?” began Whinnie, but broke off at the contempt in Jamie's eye.
“Sall,” Hillocks exclaimed in a little. “What think ye, Gormack?”
“They 're no veeciously inclined fouk in the Glen,” responded that worthy man, with studied moderation. “A' wudna say but it micht be dune. Maist o' what we 're aifter is in the Glen, some hole or ither. It wud croon a',” and Gormack began to warm.
“Nae fear o' the implements,” said Hillocks, in full scent, “nor the puckle young beasts, but a 'll no be satisfeed, neeburs, gin the gude wife disna get back her byre tae the last coo.”
“A 've twa stirks,” interrupted Whinnie, taking in the situation at last.
“Haud yir tongue till a' coont up the kye,” and Hillocks buckled to work.
“It's an aucht byre, and Jean keepit ane; that leaves seeven tae collect; noo a' hae twa masel, an' Netherton bocht the quey; that's three a' richt.