"Hoo lang," asked Hall, in a low voice, "hae ye had that bird? Hoo auld is he? Whaur did ye get him? What does he say when----" "Never heed the bird," interrupted the Sergeant: "he’s doin’ ye nae ill." "I’m no sae sure but he _could_ do’t if he took a thraw at me," said Jock; "I’ll wager he has seen me afore, an’ kens me--for he’s no canny." "Nonsense!" said Adam. "If it’s nonsense," replied Jock, "what way has he brocht you into this habble? What for do ye loe him sae weel? Why wad ye gie up, as I hear ye wad, yer verra saul and body for this world and the neist, for the sake o’ the bird? What way do they say he’s a witch?" "Haud yer tongue, Hall," said the Sergeant, "and speak aboot yer ain business, no’ mine." "_My_ business!" exclaimed Jock; "at yer service, Mr. Mercer, at yer service!" "Oot wi’t, then, and be done wi’t," said Adam. "It’s my business, then," said Hall, "to come here an’ abuse a’ thae deevils,--Porteous, Smellie, and the lave--that abused that bird! that’s my business---the chief part o’t," continued Hall, in rather an excited manner; "an’ the bird kens that, I’m certain,--just see hoo he’s glowerin’ at me! I’se warrant he has watched me in the woods afore he was catched; an’ if he if a witch, and kens aboot me, then----" "Haud yer tongue, Hall, this moment," said the Sergeant, with a loud voice of command, "or I’ll pit ye oot like a doug! If ye hae a message to deliver, say it and be aff." Jock was suddenly quiet, as if arrested by some strong power. Then in a more natural tone of voice he said, "It’s no’ worth the while o’ an auld sodger to kick a man like me. But let sleepin’ dougs lie! Dougs hae teeth, and their bite is bad when mad--when mad!" Then, after a pause, he went on, in a laughing mood, "But I _hae_ business, important business wi’ ye, Sergeant; an’ afore we proceed to consider it, ye’ll tak’ a snuff! It pits brains into a bodie’s head;" and Jock produced a small tin snuff-box, and opening the lid he looked into it with an expression of anxiety. "There’s twa, I’m sure,--twa snuffs; an’ I consider a man is no’ poor wha has ae snuff for himsel’ and anither for a neebor. Sae tak’ a snuff!" and he handed the box to the Sergeant, as he himself leant back in his chair, crossed one leg over another, and pointing to his boots said, "That’s some business, since ye insist on it! I want to gie ye a job, Mr. Mercer, for I hear ye’re idle." Then turning up the soles of his wretched boots, which looked like a kind of leather vegetable about to rot into earth mould, he said, "They’ll be ill to patch, or to fit new soles on, but I ken ye’re a gude tradesman. Try." Adam only smiled.