Altogether the last hours of our tramp were infinitely the most agreeable to me, and I believe to all of us; and by the time we came to separate, there had grown up a certain familiarity and mutual esteem that made the parting harder. It took place about four of the afternoon on a bare hillside from which I could see the ribbon of the great north road, henceforth to be my conductor. I asked what was to pay. ‘Naething,’ replied Sim. ‘What in the name of folly is this?’ I exclaimed. ‘You have led me, you have fed me, you have filled me full of whisky, and now you will take nothing!’ ‘Ye see we indentit for that,’ replied Sim. ‘Indented?’ I repeated; ‘what does the man mean?’ ‘Mr. St. Ivy,’ said Sim, ‘this is a maitter entirely between Candlish and me and the auld wife, Gilchrist. You had naething to say to it; weel, ye can have naething to do with it, then.’ ‘My good man,’ said I, ‘I can allow myself to be placed in no such ridiculous position. Mrs. Gilchrist is nothing to me, and I refuse to be her debtor.’ ‘I dinna exac’ly see what way ye’re gaun to help it,’ observed my drover. ‘By paying you here and now,’ said I. ‘There’s aye twa to a bargain, Mr. St. Ives,’ said he. ‘You mean that you will not take it?’ said I. ‘There or thereabout,’ said he. ‘Forbye, that it would set ye a heap better to keep your siller for them you awe it to. Ye’re young, Mr. St. Ivy, and thoughtless; but it’s my belief that, wi’ care and circumspection, ye may yet do credit to yoursel’. But just you bear this in mind: that him that _awes_ siller should never _gie_ siller.’ Well, what was there to say? I accepted his rebuke, and bidding the pair farewell, set off alone upon my southward way. ‘Mr. St. Ivy,’ was the last word of Sim, ‘I was never muckle ta’en up in Englishry; but I think that I really ought to say that ye seem to me to have the makings of quite a decent lad.’ CHAPTER XI—THE GREAT NORTH ROAD