'But Chilpo, he couldna stand this sudden right-about-face, for there was nae releegion at aal i' his wee, misshapen anatomy, naething but love o' siller, and beastly, secretive pleasures o' opium drams an' such like. An' he mutinies against it, an' cusses an' swears to hissel' i' his pigeon-English talk, for Isaac by degrees began to hae his doots aboot the lawfu'ness o' smugglin' an' saeforth, an' Chilpo's wages an' profits dootless wud suffer by his maister's scruples. 'Consequence was, there grew to be bad blood betwixt maister an' man, an' folk could hear them quarrelling inside the office o' nights, till at the finish there's a grand flare-up, Isaac seemingly strikin' Chilpo, an' Chilpo clickin' his maister wi' his knife. 'Chilpo gets the bag for that, Isaac no daurin' to prosecute him, for he kenned ower muckle. But he disna leave the toon; just hangs aboot, doggin' Isaac's footsteps, an' cussin' to hissel' i' his queer, ootlandish way o' talk. "Him coward," he would mutter, "but Chilpo brave man. He no take no blowee. Chilpo hang Isaac--hang himselfee--no matter--Chilpo fear nozzin'," an' he would gnash wi' his white teeth savagely like a mad dog as he saw Isaac pass along the street. 'His heart was just as black as his sweaty, black phiznommy, an' he properly haunted Isaac till he fair plagued him to death. 'One Sabbath, when there was a great function on at Isaac's chapel, he actually follows him in, an' sat sneerin' an' mimickin' an' makin' game o' Isaac as he prayed an' groaned, an' confessed to bein' a muckle great sinner i' the past, till Isaac was near mad wi' rage an' terror. He tried to pray, but the words wouldn't come richt, an' the sweat poured aff his brow, they said, till folk thought he was about to hae a fit or seizure o' some sort. 'At the finish he gies it up, an', staggerin' on to his feet, points i' a frenzied sort o' way to Chilpo sittin' there below him, an' cries oot loud: "It's the deil, it's the deil! Drive him awa; drive him oot o' the holy place! I tell ye he's sin hissel'. See the sooty face on him!" '"Ugh! Black Isaac, him coward!" shouts Chilpo, standin' up on his seat. "Him sky-pilot nowee, no goodee any more. Once a timee diffelent; good pilate once, grand pilate with Chilpo; men's pilate, women's pilates, temple's pilates, all sorts pilates. Oh yez; huzza! Dam good timee then; ping-pang, click-click, plenty moneys, plenty grogs, plenty funee. O yez; Chilpo, he knowee." The little heathen chuckled to himself, makin' uncanny motions wi' his hands o' throat-cuttin' an' liquor-drinkin' an' fillin' his pockets wi' siller.