“Maister Maitland,” said McNish, rolling out a deeper Doric, “ye have made a promise and a threat. Yere threat is naething tae me. As tae yere job, A want it and A want tae get on, but A'm a free man the noo an' a free man A shall ever be. Good-day tae ye.” He bowed respectfully to his employer and strode from the room.
Mr. Maitland sat looking at the closed door.
“He is a man, that chap, at any rate,” he said to himself, “but what's his game, I wonder. He will bear watching.”
The very next day Maitland made a close inspection of his plant, beginning with the sawmill. He found McNish running one of the larger circular saws, and none too deftly. He stood observing the man for some moments in silence. Then stepping to the workman's side he said,
“You will save time, I think, if you do it this way.” He seized the levers and, eliminating an unnecessary movement, ran the log. McNish stood calmly observing.
“Aye, yere r-right,” he said. “Ye'll have done yon before.”
“You just bet I have,” said Maitland, not a little pleased with himself.
“A'm no saw man,” said McNish, a little sullenly. “A dinna ken—I don't know saws of this sort. I'm a joiner. He put me off the bench.”
“Who?” said Maitland quickly.
“Yon manny,” replied McNish with unmistakable disgust.