The lad held oot his han'. "I ha'e cam' to mak' peace. We maun be friends."
But I turned awa' i' anger. "We canna. Dinna ask it."
Ay, but the De'il was knockit fas' an' loud then. But Wat Birney cud not ken.
"Bruce ha'e cam' to tak' Speed's place," he said.
It was a bra' giftie, but I wadna heed. "I dinna want him," I cried. "Bring Speed bac' to life—if you ca'."
"I wish I cud, mon, for Bel's sake. We mauna quarrel."
"Knockit him doon!" shouted the De'il, shrill as a bagpipe.
I lifted my arm; but Wat was such a slender lad, I cudna strike.
"Dinna you do it, Dugald. I canna forgi'e a blow," he said. "I kilt puir Speed, but I'm baith ready an' willin' to gi'e you Bruce i' his stead. It will ainly be a fair exchange. Here's the colley, an' my han' on it. Cum, naybor, what say you?"
"Say you willna ha'e his beast or his friendship," whispered the De'il, peerin' i' through my heart's window.