"Weel, aweel, sirs," said Jabos, whose hard-headed and uncultivated shrewdness seemed sometimes to start the game when others beat the bush--"Weel, weel, ye may be a' mista'en yet--I'll never believe that a man would lay a plan to shoot another wi' his ain gun. Lord help me, I was the keeper's assistant down at the Isle mysell, and I'll uphaud it, the biggest man in Scotland shouldna take a gun frae me or I had weized the slugs through him, though I'm but sic a little feckless [*Spiritless] body, fit for naething but the outside o' a saddle and the fore-end o' a poschay--na, na, nae living man wad venture on that. I'll wad ma best buckskins, and they were new coft [*Bought] at Kirkcudbright fair, it's been a chance job after a'. But if ye hae naething mair to say to me, I am thinking I maun gang and see my beasts fed." And he departed accordingly. The hostler, who had accompanied him, gave evidence to the same purpose. He and Mrs. MacCandlish were then re-interrogated, whether Brown had no arms with him on that unhappy morning. "None," they said, "but an ordinary bit cutlass or hanger by his side." "Now," said the Deacon, taking Glossin by the button (for, in considering this intricate subject, he had forgot Glossin's new accession of rank)--"this is but doubtfu' after a', Maister Gilbert--for it was not Sae dooms [*Absolutely] likely that he would go down into battle wi' sic sma' means." Glossin extricated himself from the Deacon's grasp, and from the discussion, though not with rudeness; for it was his present interest to buy golden opinions from all sorts of people. He inquired the price of tea and sugar, and spoke of providing himself for the year; he gave Mrs. Mac-Candlish directions to have a handsome entertainment in readiness for a party of five friends, whom he intended to invite to dine with him at the Gordon Arms next Saturday week; and, lastly, he gave a half-crown to Jock Jabos, whom the hostler had deputed to hold his steed. "Weel," said the Deacon to Mrs. Mac-Candlish, as he accepted her offer of a glass of bitters at the bar, "the deil's no sae ill as he's ca'd. It's pleasant to see a gentleman pay the regard to the business o' the county that Mr. Glossin does." "Ay, 'deed is't, Deacon," answered the landlady and yet I wonder our gentry leave their ain wark to the like o' him. --But as lang as silver's current, Deacon, folk maunna look ower nicely at what king's head's on't." "I doubt Glossin will prove but shand [*Cant expression for base coin] after a', mistress," said Jabos, as he passed through the little lobby beside the bar; "but this is a gude half-crown ony way." CHAPTER XXXIII. A man that apprehends death to be no more dreadful but as a drunken sleep; careless, reckless, and fearless of what's past, present, or to come; insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal. Measure for Measure.