"The jury, by a majority, find the charges against the prisoner not proven."
"Hurrah!" shouted M'Wilkin, reckless of all authority. "Hurrah! I say—you counsellor in the wig—ye shanna want a sheep's head thae three years, if there's ane to be had on the Border!"
And in this way I gained my first acquittal.
[CHAPTER III.]
I found Strachan in his room with his face buried in the bed-clothes. He was kicking his legs as though he suffered under a violent fit of the toothache.
"I say, Tom, what's the matter? Look up, man! Do you know I've got that scoundrel off?"
No answer.
"Tom, I say? Tom, you dunderhead—what do you mean by making an ass of yourself this way? Get up, for shame, and answer me!"
Poor Strachan raised his head from the coverlet. His eyes were absolutely pink, and his cheeks of the tint of a lemon.