Hunt. How do you know?
Ainslie. I gi’ed him a han’ wi’ them a’. It was him an’ Badger Moore, and Geordie Smith; an’ they gart me gang wi’ them whether or no; I’m that weak, an’ whiles I’m donner’d wi’ the drink. But I ken a’, an’ I’ll tell a’. And O kind gentleman, you’ll speak to their lordships for me, an’ I’ll no be hangit . . . I’ll no be hangit, wull I?
Hunt. But you shared, didn’t you? I wonder what share they thought you worth. How much did you get for last night’s performance down at Mother Clarke’s?
Ainslie. Just five pund, mister. Five pund. As sure’s deith it wadna be a penny mair. No but I askit mair: I did that; I’ll do deny it, mister. But Badger kickit me, an’ Geordie, he said a bad sweir, an’ made he’d cut the liver out o’ me, an’ catch fish wi’t. It’s been that way frae the first: an aith an’ a bawbee was aye guid eneuch for puir Andra.
Hunt. Well, and why did they do it? I saw Jemmy dance a hornpipe on the table, and booze the company all round, when the Deacon was gone. What made you cross the fight, and play booty with your own man?
Ainslie. Just to make him rob the Excise, mister. They’re wicked, wicked men.
Hunt. And is he right for it?
Ainslie. Ay is he.
Hunt. By jingo! When’s it for?
Ainslie. Dear, kind gentleman, I dinna rightly ken: the Deacon’s that sair angered wi’ me. I’m to get my orders frae Geordie the nicht.