“Are you for parting with the pretty creature?” inquired Gibbon More.
“I should not care much to part with him to a good customer,” replied the other.
“Is he young, gentle, sound, and sure-footed?” demanded Gibbon.
“I’ll answer all your questions by and by,” replied the West Highlander, “if you will only do me the favour to satisfy me as to one point.”
“What is that?” asked Gibbon More.
“Will you tell me what part of the country you come from?”
“From Strathspey, to be sure,” replied Gibbon.
“I guessed as much,” said the other. “I see, moreover, from the set of your tartan that you are a Cumin, and by your attire, bearing, and following, I can guess that you are a gentleman of some note. Do you happen to know Gibbon More Cumin of your country?”
“Know Gibbon More Cumin!” cried he, laughing good humouredly; “if I know anyone, I should know him, seeing that he always lives in the house with me, and that we never eat a meal asunder. I love him better than a brother. But not to keep you any longer in doubt—I am Gibbon More Cumin!”
“I am truly glad to see you,” said the West Highlander, seizing his hand and shaking it heartily. “You are the man, of all others alive, to whom I am most obliged.”