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- Джон Бакен
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June
was
a
month
of
hot
suns
and
clear
skies
,
when
the
hills
were
bone
-
dry
and
the
deepest
flowe
-
moss
could
be
safely
passed
.
It
was
weather
for
the
high
tops
,
and
one
afternoon
David
,
walking
off
his
restlessness
on
the
Rood
uplands
,
stumbled
unexpectedly
on
a
friend
.
For
at
the
head
of
the
glen
where
the
drove
-
road
crosses
from
Clyde
to
Aller
,
he
fell
in
with
the
farmer
of
Reiverslaw
leading
his
horse
up
a
steep
patch
of
screes
.
This
man
,
Andrew
Shillinglaw
,
was
something
of
a
mystery
both
to
parish
and
minister
.
He
was
a
long
lean
fellow
of
some
forty
years
,
black
-
haired
,
black
-
bearded
,
whose
sullen
face
was
redeemed
by
a
humorous
mouth
,
so
that
the
impression
was
of
a
genial
ferocity
.
He
was
reputed
the
most
skilful
farmer
in
the
place
,
and
some
held
him
a
rival
in
worldly
wealth
to
the
miller
,
but
beyond
the
fact
that
he
had
in
Reiverslaw
the
best
of
the
hill
farms
,
there
was
no
clue
to
his
prosperity
.
He
had
the
only
good
riding
-
horse
in
Woodilee
,
and
was
a
notable
figure
on
the
roads
,
for
he
travelled
the
country
like
a
packman
.
For
weeks
on
end
he
would
be
away
from
home
,
and
he
was
heard
of
in
Galloway
and
the
west
and
as
far
south
as
the
Border
,
so
that
speculation
about
his
doings
became
a
favourite
pastime
among
his
neighbours
.
He
neither
sold
nor
bought
in
the
parish
,
and
he
kept
his
own
counsel
,
but
his
profession
was
clear
enough
had
there
been
eyes
to
see
.
For
he
was
dealer
and
middleman
as
well
as
farmer
,
and
in
a
day
when
stock
and
produce
scarcely
moved
beyond
parish
bounds
,
he
sold
and
bought
in
outlying
markets
.
In
a
district
of
home
-
keepers
he
was
the
sole
traveller
.
Few
liked
him
,
for
there
was
always
an
undertone
of
satire
in
his
speech
.
But
all
feared
him
,
for
his
temper
was
on
a
hair
-
trigger
.
Drink
made
him
quarrelsome
,
and
the
spence
at
Lucky
Weir
’
s
had
seen
some
ugly
business
,
since
with
him
blow
followed
fast
on
word
.
Three
years
before
he
had
buried
his
wife
,
there
were
no
children
,
and
he
lived
at
Reiverslaw
with
an
aged
cousin
for
housekeeper
,
who
was
half
blind
and
wholly
deaf
.
His
attendance
at
the
kirk
was
far
from
exemplary
;
in
winter
there
were
the
drifts
and
the
full
bogs
to
detain
him
,
and
in
summer
he
was
as
often
as
not
on
his
travels
.
The
Session
,
who
did
not
love
him
,
had
talked
of
citing
him
to
appear
before
them
,
but
in
the
end
they
seemed
to
shrink
from
belling
so
formidable
a
cat
.
At
the
head
of
the
little
pass
,
which
in
that
country
is
called
a
"
slack
,
"
he
halted
and
let
David
approach
him
.
"
A
guid
day
to
ye
,
sir
,
"
he
cried
.
"
We
’
ll
let
Bess
get
her
wind
,
for
it
’
s
a
lang
gait
frae
Crawfordjohn
.
I
rade
ower
yestereen
to
see
the
sma
’
Cumberland
sheep
that
the
Lowther
herds
are
trying
on
yon
hills
.
I
hae
nae
great
broo
o
’
them
.
They
’
ll
maybe
dae
on
yon
green
braes
where
the
bite
is
short
,
but
they
’
re
nae
use
for
a
heather
country
.
.
.
.
Sit
ye
doun
,
sir
.
What
brings
ye
sae
far
ower
the
tops
?
Ye
werena
ettlin
’
to
gie
me
a
ca
’
in
at
Reiverslaw
?
"
David
gladly
stretched
himself
on
the
bent
beside
him
.
The
man
seemed
willing
to
talk
,
and
of
late
he
had
had
little
speech
with
his
fellows
.
"
I
came
here
for
the
caller
air
,
"
he
said
,
"
and
to
drive
ill
humours
from
body
and
mind
.
There
are
whiles
when
I
cannot
draw
breath
in
Woodilee
.
"
"
Ay
,
"
said
the
man
.
"
Ay
!
Just
so
.
"
He
pursed
his
lips
and
looked
at
the
minister
under
half
-
shut
eyes
.
