Bobby dropped like a shot, cringing at Auld Jock's feet. The most
sensitive of four-footed creatures in the world, the Skye terrier
is utterly abased by a rebuke from his master. The whole garret
was soon in an uproar of vile accusation and shrill denial that
spread from cell to cell.

Auld Jock glowered down at Bobby with frightened eyes. In the
winters he had lodged there he had lived unmolested only because
he had managed to escape notice. Timid old country body that he
was, he could not "fecht it oot" with the thieves and beggars and
drunkards of the Cowgate. By and by the brawling died down. In
the double row of little dens this one alone was silent, and the
offending dog was not located.

But when the danger was past, Auld Jock's heart was pounding in
his chest. His legs gave way under him, when he got up to fetch
the candle from near the door and set it on a projecting brick
in the fireplace. By its light he began to read in a small pocket
Bible the Psalm that had always fascinated him because he had
never been able to understand it.

"The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want."

So far it was plain and comforting. "He maketh me to lie down in
green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters."

Nae, the pastures were brown, or purple and yellow with heather
and gorse. Rocks cropped out everywhere, and the peaty tarps were
mostly bleak and frozen. The broad Firth was ever ebbing and
flowing with the restless sea, and the burns bickering down the