Faces over the narrow Razorback which led to safety, induced
them to follow him across that ten-inch death-track, one by one,
like children behind their mistress. It was Red Wull who was seen
coming down the precipitous Saddler's How, shouldering up that
grand old gentleman, King o' the Dale, whose leg was broken.

The gray dog it was who found Cyril Gilbraith by the White
Stones, with a cigarette and a sprained ankle, on the night the
whole village was out with lanterns searching for the well-loved
young scapegrace. It was the Tailless Tyke and his master who one
bitter evening came upon little Mrs. Burton, lying in a huddle
beneath the lea of the fast-whitening Druid's Pillar with her latest
baby on her breast. It was little M'Adam who took off his coat and
wrapped the child in it; little M'Adam who unwound his plaid,
threw it like a breastband across the dog's great chest, and tied the
ends round the weary woman's waist. Red Wull it was who
dragged her back to the Sylvester Arms and life, straining like a
giant through the snow, while his master staggered behind with the
babe in his arms. When they reached the inn it was M'Adam who,
with a smile on his face, told the landlord what he thought of him
for sending his wife across the Marches on such a day and on his
errand. To which:

"I'd a cauld," pleaded honest Jem.

For days together David could not cross the Stony Bottom to
Kenmuir. His enforced confinement to the Grange led, however, to
no more frequent collisions than usual with his. father. For
M'Adam and Red Wull were out, at all hours, in all weathers, night
and day, toiling at their work of salvation.