mak' them nippy? He burns them a wee bit in the fire, an' then st'eeps
them in whusky. An' they're awful sair."

"Oh, but I ken what to do, Rab, if ye want to diddle him," put in
another boy. "Just get a horse's hair--a lang yin oot o' its tail--and
put it across yer haun', an' it'll cut his tawse in twa, whenever he
gie's ye a pammy."

"That's what I'm gaun to do, Jamie," replied another. "I'll get some
hairs frae Willie Rogerson. He's gettin' me some frae his father's when
he's in the stable the morn, an' ye'll see auld Cabbage-heid's tawse
gaun in twa, whenever he gie's me yin." And they all looked admiringly
at this little hero who was going to do this wonderful thing so simply.

"I got four yesterday," said another, "an' I wasna' doin' onything. By
criffens! it was sair, an' gin I had only had a horse's hair, I'd soon
ha'e putten his tawse oot the road."

"I got four yesterday too," said another, "an' a' because I was looking
at yon new laddie wha cam to the schule yesterday. By! they were sair. I
never heard auld Cabbage-heid till he cam up an' telt me to put oot my
haun."

"It's Peter Rundell's his name," chimed in another. "He's the Boss's
laddie. My! if you just saw what fine claes he has on. A new suit, an'
lang stockings, an' a pair o' fine new buits."

"Ay, an' a white collar too," said another, "an' hundreds o' pooches in
his jacket."