"Nae loss, Hugh!--nae loss at a’. I never spak’ o’t to onybody afore, and ye’ll no clipe aboot it, for every dog should hae his chance; and if a man should miss wi’ ae barrel, he may nevertheless hit wi’ the tither; and I dinna want to fash the man mair than is necessar’. But this same Smellie had a shop here at the clachan aboon twenty years syne, and I got him custom frae the Castle; an’ didna the rogue--Is the door steekit?" asked the old man in a whisper. Hugh nodded. "An’ didna the rogue," continued old John, "forge my name tae a bill for £50? That did he; and I could hae hanged him! But I never telt on him till this hour, but made him pay the half o’t, and I paid the ither half mysel’; and Adam see’d me sae distressed for the money that he gied me £5 in a present tae help. Naebody kent o’t excep’ mysel’ and Adam, wha was leevin’ here at the time, and saw it was a forgery; and I axed him _never_ to say a word aboot it, and I’ll wager he never did, for a clean-speerited man and honourable is Adam Mercer! Weel, Smellie by my advice left the kintraside for Drumsylie, and noo he’s turning against Adam! Isna that awfu’? Is’t no’ deevilish? Him like a doug pointing at Adam! As weel a moose point at a gled!" "That’s a particular bonnie job indeed," said Hugh. "I wad like to pepper the sneaky chiel wi’ snipe-dust for’t. But what can be dune noo?" "Dune! Mair than Smellie wad like, and enouch to mak’ him lowse his grip o’ Adam!" said the old man. "I hae a letter till him bamboozlin’ my head, and I’ll maybe grip it in the mornin’ and pit it on paper afore breakfast-time! Be ye ready to write it doon as I tell ye, and it’ll start Smellie ower his wabs and braid claith, or I’m mista’en!" Hugh was ordered to meet his father in the morning to indite the intended epistle. CHAPTER XVI FISHERS AND FISHING As the evening drew on, the family who occupied the keeper’s house gathered together like crows to their rookery. Mrs. Hugh, who had been helping at a large washing in "the big house", returned with a blythe face, full of cheer and womanly kindness. "Hech! but I hae had sic a day o’t! What a washing! an’ it’s no’ half dune! But wha hae we here?" she asked, as she espied Jock seated near the fire. "Dae I ken ye?" she further inquired, looking at him with a sceptical smile, as if she feared to appear rude to one whom she ought, perhaps, to have recognised. Jock, with a sense of respect due to her, rose, and said, "I houp no’, for maybe I wad be nae credit tae ye as an acqua’ntance." "A freen’ o’ my cousin’s, Adam Mercer, o’ Drumsylie," remarked old Spence. "Sit doon, my man!" "I’m glad tae see ye," said the happy sonsy wife, stretching out her hand to Jock, who took it reluctantly, and gazed in the woman’s face with an awkward expression.