David looked up into his protector's face. "Yo'd best go wi' your
feyther, lad," said the Master at last, thickly. The boy hesitated,
and clung tighter to the shielding arm; then he walked slowly over
to his father.

A bitter smile spread over the little man's face as he marked this
new test ci? the boy's obedience to the other.

"To obey his frien' he foregoes the pleasure o' disobeyin' his
father," he muttered. "Noble!" Then he turned homeward, and the
boy followed in his footsteps.

James Moore and the gray dog stood looking after them.

"I know yo'll not pay off yer spite agin me on the lad's head,
M'Adam," he called, almost appealingly.

"I'll do ma duty, thank ye, James Moore, wi'oot respect o' persons,"
the little man cried back, never turning.

Father and son walked away, one behind the other, like a man and
his dog, and there was no word said between them. Across the
Stony Bottom, Red Wull, scowling with bared teeth at David,
joined them. Together the three went up the bill to the Grange.

In the kitchen M'Adam turned.

"Noo, I'm gaein' to gie ye the gran'est thrashin' ye iver dreamed of.
Tak' aff yer coat!"