Angus seized the little gentleman by the neck, as if he had been a polecat, and at arm’s length walked him unresistingly into the coach-house. There, with one vigorous tug, he tore the jacket from his back, and his only other garment, dependent thereupon by some device known only to Gibbie, fell from him, and he stood in helpless nakedness, smiling still: he had never done anything shameful, therefore had no acquaintance with shame. But when the scowling keeper, to whom poverty was first cousin to poaching, and who hated tramps as he hated vermin, approached him with a heavy cart whip in his hand, he cast his eyes down at his white sides, very white between his brown arms and brown legs, and then lifted them in a mute appeal, which somehow looked as if it were for somebody else, against what he could no longer fail to perceive the man’s intent. But he had no notion of what the thing threatened amounted to. He had had few hard blows in his time, and had never felt a whip. “Ye deil’s glaur!” cried the fellow, clenching the cruel teeth of one who loved not his brother, “I s’ lat ye ken what comes o’ brakin’ into honest hooses, an’ takin’ what’s no yer ain!” A vision of the gnawed cheese, which he had never touched since the idea of its being property awoke in him, rose before Gibbie’s mental eyes, and inwardly he bowed to the punishment. But the look he had fixed on Angus was not without effect, for the man was a father, though a severe one, and was not all a brute: he turned and changed the cart whip for a gig one with a broken shaft, which lay near. It was well for himself that he did so, for the other would probably have killed Gibbie. When the blow fell the child shivered all over, his face turned white, and without uttering even a moan, he doubled up and dropped senseless. A swollen cincture, like a red snake, had risen all round his waist, and from one spot in it the blood was oozing. It looked as if the lash had cut him in two. The blow had stung his heart and it had ceased to beat. But the gamekeeper understood vagrants! the young blackguard was only shamming! “Up wi’ ye, ye deevil! or I s’ gar ye,” he said from between his teeth, lifting the whip for a second blow. Just as the stroke fell, marking him from the nape all down the spine, so that he now bore upon his back in red the sign the ass carries in black, a piercing shriek assailed Angus’s ears, and his arm, which had mechanically raised itself for a third blow, hung arrested.