“Yon scunner?” Neil exclaimed, using the very form of the elder's words, “yon scunner? I'd as lief ... as lief ... elect ...”
“... the Apoos-tate,” said the Devil, though Neil thought that Saunders was talking.
“Ay, the Apoos-tate,” he agreed.
“It wad be a fine joke,” the Devil went on by the mouth of Saunders, “to run the Apoos-tate agin' his candidate. McCakeron canna thole the man.”
“But what if he was elected?” the mariner objected.
The Devil was charged with glib argument. “We couldna very weel. It's to be a three-cornered fight, an' Robert Duncan, brother to Tammas, has it sure.”
“'Twad be a good one on McCakeron,” Neil mused. “To talk up Dunlop, who doesna care a cent for the eldership, an' then spring the Apoos-tate on him.”
“'Twould be bitter on 'Twenty-One,'” the cap'en added. He had been diddled by Sandy on a deal of seed-wheat.
“It wad hit the pair of 'em,” McNab chuckled, and with that word the Devil conquered.
So far, as aforesaid, Saunders had been unconscious of the Devil, but going home the latter revealed himself in a heart-to-heart talk. “Ye're no pretty to look at,” Saunders said. “I'm minded to throw ye oot!”