“Dod!” exclaimed the piper, “ye was near doon! A’d no seek to change wi’ you. A’m safer wi’ ma’ doags than you wi’ yon horse. What ailed ye that ye gae’d awa’ frae Balnillo?”
“Private matters,” said Archie shortly.
“Aweel, they private matters was no far frae putting me i’ the tolbooth. What gar’d ye no tell me ye was gaein’?”
“Have you got a letter for me?” said Flemington, as Wattie began to draw up his sliding-board.
“Ay, there’s ane. But just wait you, ma lad, till a tell ye what a was sayin’ to auld Davie——”
“Never mind what you said to Lord Balnillo,” broke in Flemington; “I want my letter.”
He slipped from the saddle and looped the rein over his arm.
“Dinna bring yon brute near me!” cried Wattie, as horse and man began to crush through the alders. “A’m fell feared o’ they unchancy cattle.”
Archie made an impatient sound and threw the rein over a stump. He approached the cart, and the yellow dog, who was for once lying down, opened his wary golden eyes, watching each movement that brought the intruder nearer to his master without raising his head.
“You are not often on this side of Brechin,” said Archie, as the beggar handed him the packet.