"Come awa' ower, man, an' leuk at the brave sicht."

If he could have barked, his meaning would have carried more
convincingly, but he "hauded 'is gab" loyally. And, alas, the
caretaker was not to be beguiled. Mr. Traill had told him Bobby
had been sent back to the hill farm, but here he was,
"perseestent" little rascal, and making some sort of bid for the
man's favor. Mr. Brown took his pipe out of his mouth in
surprised exasperation, and glowered at the dog.

"Gang awa' oot wi' ye!"

But Bobby was back again coaxing undauntedly, abasing himself
before the angry man, insisting that he had something of interest
to show. The caretaker was literally badgered and cajoled into
following him. One glance at the formidable heap of the slain,
and Mr. Brown dropped to a seat on the slab.

"Preserve us a'!"

He stared from the little dog to his victims,
turned them over with his stout stick and counted them, and
stared again. Bobby fixed his pleading eyes on the man and stood
at strained attention while fate hung in the balance.

"Guile wark! Guile wark! A braw doggie, an' an unco' fechter.
Losh! but ye're a deil o' a bit dog!"

All this was said in a tone of astonished comment, so
non-committal of feeling that Bobby's tail began to twitch in the