"A fine song, my good fellow," I remarked from behind. The rascal did not turn round. "Oh!--it's no' so bad. It's got the endurin' quality o' carrying a moral," he answered. "You seem to be clear in the conscience yourself," said I. "It'll be clearer when I get outside o' this rabbit," he returned, still not deigning to look at me. "But you did not seem to be startled when I spoke to you," I remarked in surprise. "What way should I? I never saw the man yet that I was feart o'. Forby,--I kent you were there." "But, how could you know? I did not make a noise or display my presence in any way." "No!--but the wind was blawin' from the back, ye see; and when ye came up behind the smoke curled up a bit further and straighter than it did before; then there was just the ghost o' a shadow." I laughed. "You are an observant customer." "Oh, ay! I'm a' that. Come round and let me see ye." I obeyed, and he seemed satisfied with his inspection. "Sit doon,--oot o' the smoke," he said. I did so. "You are Scotch?" I ventured. "Ay! From Perth, awa'. "A Scotch tinker?" "Just that; a tinker from Perth, and my name's Robertson. I'm a Struan, ye ken. The Struans,--the real Struans,--are a' tinkers or pipers. In oor family, my elder brother fell heir to my father's pipes, so I had just to take to the tinkering. But we're joint heirs to my father's fondness for a dram. Ye havena a wee drop on ye?" "Not a drop," I remarked. "That's a disappointment. I was kind o' feart ye wouldna, when I asked ye." "How so?" "Oh! ye don't look like a man that wasted your substance. More like a seller o' Bibles, or maybe a horse doctor." I laughed at the queer comparison, and he looked out at me from under his shaggy, red eyebrows. "Have a bite o' breakfast wi' me. I like to crack to somebody when I'm eatin'. It helps the digestion." "No, thank you," I said. "I have breakfasted already." "It's good meat, man. The rabbit's fresh. I can guarantee it, for it was runnin' half an hour ago. Try a leg." I refused, but, as he seemed crestfallen, I took the drumstick in my hand and ate the meat slowly from it; and never did rabbit taste so good. "What makes ye smile?" asked my tattered companion. "Do ye no' like the taste o' it?" "Oh! the rabbit is all right," I said, "but I was just thinking that had it lived its children might have belonged to a brother of mine some day." "How's that? Is he a keeper? Od sake!" he went on, scratching his head, as it seemed to dawn on him, "ye don't happen to belong to the big hoose up there?" "I live there," said I. He leaned over to me quickly. "Have another leg, man,--have it;--dod! it's your ain, anyway." "I haven't finished the first yet. Go ahead yourself." He ate slowly, eying me now and again through the smoke.