"If the Lord cared He could take Black Jock by the scruff o' the neck
an' fling him into hell oot o' the road. It's Black Jock that's at the
bottom o' this, an' I could twist his dirty neck for him."

"Weel, Andra, it's the Lord's doin', an' maybe things'll soon men'."

"If it's the Lord's doin', I dinna think muckle o' His conduct then,"
and Andrew lapsed into sullen silence.

On Monday morning he was up at five o'clock, desperately resolved to lay
his case before the men. He walked to the end of the village, knowing
the colliery would be idle, for Tam Donaldson was to be "creeled." This
was a custom at one time very prevalent in mining villages. When a young
man got married, the first day he appeared at his work afterwards he was
taken home by his comrades, and was expected to stand them a drink. It
generally ended in a collection being made, after they had tasted the
newly-married man's whiskey, and a common fund thus being established, a
large quantity of beer and whiskey was procured, and all drank to their
heart's content.

Andrew heard the men calling to each other as they made their way to the
pit, the lights from their lamps twinkling in the darkness of the winter
morning.

"Is Tam away yet, Jamie?" he heard wee Allan ask, as he overtook old
Jamie Lauder on his way to the pit.

"Ay, I saw to that," replied Lauder, "I chappit him up at five o'clock,
so that he wadna sleep in. I hinna missed a creelin' for thirty-five