“For the sake of your mother,” he answered, “I would rather never set eyes on you or the beast again; she's the last transaction between us, Paul Greig.” And then he burst in tears, with his arms about my neck.
Ten minutes later I was on the mare, and galloping, for all her ailing leg, from Hazel Den as if it were my own loweing conscience. I roused Dr. Clews at the Mearns, and gave him my father's message. “Man,” said he, holding his chamber light up to my face, “man, ye're as gash as a ghaist yersel'.”
“I may well be that,” said I, and off I set, with some of Uncle Andy's old experience in my mind, upon a ride across broad Scotland.