An' ae thing a' thocht rael thochtfu' o' him: he first sent
aff the laddie's mither tae get a bed ready.
"'Noo that's feenished, and his constitution 'ill dae the rest,' and he
carried the lad doon the ladder in his airms like a bairn, and laid him
in his bed, and waits aside him till he wes sleepin', and then says he,
'Burnbrae, yir a gey lad never tae say, "Collie, will ye lick?" for a'
hevna tasted meat for saxteen hoors.'
"It was michty tae see him come intae the yaird that day, neeburs; the
verra look o' him wes victory."
Jamie's cynicism slipped off in the enthusiasm of this reminiscence, and
he expressed the feeling of Drumtochty. No one sent for MacLure save in
great straits, and the sight of him put courage in sinking hearts. But
this was not by the grace of his appearance, or the advantage of a good
bedside manner. A tall, gaunt, loosely made man, without an ounce of
superfluous flesh on his body, his face burned a dark brick colour
by constant exposure to the weather, red hair and beard turning gray,
honest blue eyes that look you ever in the face, huge hands with
wrist-bones like the shank of a ham, and a voice that hurled his
salutations across two fields, he suggested the moor rather than the
drawing-room.
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