betwixt them, although they had apparently few common topics of
conversation or of interest, so soon as their talk ceased to be of
bullocks. Robin Oig, indeed, spoke the English language rather
imperfectly upon any other topics but stots and kyloes, and Harry
Wakefield could never bring his broad Yorkshire tongue to utter a
single word of Gaelic. It was in vain Robin spent a whole morning,
during a walk over Minch-Moor, in attempting to teach his companion to
utter, with true precision, the shibboleth _Llhu_, which is the Gaelic
for a calf.

The pair of friends had traversed with their usual cordiality the
grassy wilds of Liddesdale, and crossed the opposite part of
Cumberland, emphatically called the Waste. In these solitary regions,
the cattle under the charge of our drovers subsisted themselves
cheaply, by picking their food as they went along the drove-road, or
sometimes by the tempting opportunity of a _start and owerloup_, or
invasion of the neighbouring pasture, where an occasion presented
itself. But now the scene changed before them; they were descending
towards a fertile and enclosed country, where no such liberties could
be taken with impunity, or without a previous arrangement and bargain
with the possessors of the ground. This was more especially the case,
as a great northern fair was upon the eve of taking place, where both
the Scotch and English drover expected to dispose of a part of their
cattle, which it was desirable to produce in the market, rested and in
good order. Fields were therefore difficult to be obtained, and only
upon high terms. This necessity occasioned a temporary separation
betwixt the two friends, who went to bargain, each as he could, for
the separate accommodation of his herd. Unhappily it chanced that both
of them, unknown to each other, thought of bargaining for the ground
they wanted on the property of a country gentleman of some fortune,