Men? Ay, an' wi' mair common sense in them than some
that had mair opportunities."
"I think I've settled everything," went on Crossthwaite, who seemed not to
have heard the last speech--"settled everything--for poor Katie, I mean.
If anything happens to me, she has friends at Cork--she thinks so at
least--and they'd get her out to service somewhere--God knows!" And his
face worked fearfully a minute.
"Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori!" said I.
"There are twa methods o' fulfilling that saw, I'm thinkin'. Impreemis, to
shoot your neebour; in secundis, to hang yoursel."
"What do you mean by grumbling at the whole thing in this way, Mr. Mackaye?
Are you, too, going to shrink back from The Cause, now that liberty is at
the very doors?"
"Ou, then, I'm stanch eneuch. I ha' laid in my ain stock o' weapons for the
fecht at Armageddon."
"You don't mean it? What have you got?"
"A braw new halter, an' a muckle nail. There's a gran' tough beam here
ayont the ingle, will haud me a' crouse and cantie, when the time comes."
"What on earth do you mean?" asked we both together.
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