"Did anyone smite me on the one cheek?" he asked. "If they did, I didn't know it. Perhaps you would like to try?"
And he came nearer to the rascal, who drew off as if not at all inclined to make the experiment. He made no reply.
"But," said the minister, "since you are so ready with your Scripture, you will not object to another text, just as good, and more suitable for application to the like of you. It is—'A rod for the fool's back!'"
And with that he lifted his stick and brought it down on the young rough's shoulders with the swing of a cricketer cutting a high ball to the boundary.
Never was there a more astonished scoundrel. He turned on the instant and ran. But Vara was close beside them by this time.
"He stole my money!" she cried; "catch him! O dinna let him away!"
The young minister clapped his hat firmly on the back of his head and gave chase. The thief was for the moment the swifter, but he had not the wind nor the training of his opponent.
"Stop!" cried the pursuer.
The thief glanced about, and seeing the stick he had tasted before hovering in the air, he dropped in a heap across the path to trip his pursuer. The minister cleared him in his stride and turned upon him. The rascal kept perfectly still till his captor approached. Then suddenly he shot out his foot in a vicious kick. But the young fellow in the round hat had been in France and knew all about that game. He caught the foot in his hand and turned the fellow over on his back. Vara came panting up.
"Give this girl her money," said the minister. "How much was it, my lassie?"