"Noo, Wattie," said the Whaup, "ye maun say a sweer before ye get up. I'm no jokin', and unless ye be quick ye'll be in the water."
Wattie Cassilis, the "best boy" of the Airlie Manse, paragon of scholars, and exemplar to his four brothers, was depending from a small bridge over the burn, his head downward and a short distance from the water, his feet being held close to the parapet by the muscular arms of his eldest brother, Tammas Cassilis, commonly known as the Whaup.
"Wattie," repeated the Whaup, "say a sweer, or into the burn ye'll gang as sure as daith!" and he dipped Wattie a few inches, so that the ripples touched his head. Wattie set up a fearful howl.
"Now, will ye say it?"
"Deevil!" cried Wattie. "Let me up; I hae said a sweer!"
The other brothers raised a demoniac shout of triumph over his apostacy.
"Ye maun say a worse sweer, Wattie. Deevil is no bad enough."
"I'll droon first!" whimpered Wattie, "and then ye'll get your paiks, I'm thinking."
Down went Wattie's head into the burn again, and this time he was raised with his mouth sputtering out the contents it had received.
"I'll say what ye like! D--n; is that bad enough?"