"Canna be fashed!" cried my acquaintance, hurrying from the shop; "what a deuced fool! Grant, you'll repent it."
I laughed at the man; for I had perfect confidence in my friend, and I knew that he had property worth three times the money that I was bond for him.
On the very next day, the same acquaintance came into my house very hastily, and says he—
"Grant, if you don't look after your money, and that very sharply, you will find your friend's property is no go, and you are in for paying the three thousand."
"Ye dinna mean to say the like o' that?" said I.
"Say that, you blockhead!" returned my acquaintance—"wherefore wouldn't you believe me yesterday?" And placing his arm through mine, he dragged me out o' the house. We reached the habitation o' the worthy gentleman for whom I was surety in the sum o' three thousand precious pounds sterling. But he was off—off like a bird whose nest has been robbed o' its eggs. Twelve hours before, he had sailed for America, or some other quarter o' the globe; but where I never knew.
"Come home, Grant," said my friend, "don't distress yourself now."
"Oh, dinna speak to me," says I—"I canna be fashed; my three thousand pounds!—my poor three thousand pounds!"
We went into a tavern, and I drank out o' pure desperation until I could hardly stand; and as we were going home I fell, and I dislocated my arm, or I broke it; at ony rate I did something to it, and it never was like to get better; and my friends advised me to send for a surgeon—but——
"What to do wi' a surgeon?" says I; "I canna be fashed wi' them. The arm will get better itsel."