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- Джон Джон Бакен
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- Стр. 32/83
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He
took
up
the
hammer
,
struck
a
stone
,
dropped
the
implement
with
an
oath
,
and
put
both
hands
to
his
ears
.
"
Mercy
on
me
!
My
heid
's
burstin
'
!
"
he
cried
.
He
was
a
wild
figure
,
about
my
own
size
but
much
bent
,
with
a
week
's
beard
on
his
chin
,
and
a
pair
of
big
horn
spectacles
.
"
I
canna
dae
'
t
,
"
he
cried
again
.
"
The
Surveyor
maun
just
report
me
.
I
'm
for
my
bed
.
"
I
asked
him
what
was
the
trouble
,
though
indeed
that
was
clear
enough
.
"
The
trouble
is
that
I
'm
no
sober
.
Last
nicht
my
dochter
Merran
was
waddit
,
and
they
danced
till
fower
in
the
byre
.
Me
and
some
ither
chiels
sat
down
to
the
drinkin
'
,
and
here
I
am
.
Peety
that
I
ever
lookit
on
the
wine
when
it
was
red
!
"
I
agreed
with
him
about
bed
.
"
It
's
easy
speakin
'
,
"
he
moaned
.
"
But
I
got
a
postcard
yestreen
sayin
'
that
the
new
Road
Surveyor
would
be
round
the
day
.
He
'll
come
and
he
'll
no
find
me
,
or
else
he
'll
find
me
fou
,
and
either
way
I
'm
a
done
man
.
I
'll
awa
'
back
to
my
bed
and
say
I
'm
no
weel
,
but
I
doot
that
'll
no
help
me
,
for
they
ken
my
kind
o
'
no-weel-ness
.
"
Then
I
had
an
inspiration
.
"
Does
the
new
Surveyor
know
you
?
"
I
asked
.
"
No
him
.
He
's
just
been
a
week
at
the
job
.
He
rins
about
in
a
wee
motor-cawr
,
and
wad
speir
the
inside
oot
o
'
a
whelk
.
"
"
Where
's
your
house
?
"
I
asked
,
and
was
directed
by
a
wavering
finger
to
the
cottage
by
the
stream
.
