Standing in front of his house, with flushed face and big eyes, the
little man looked almost noble in his indignation. And the parson,
striding away down the hill, was uneasily conscious that with him
was not the victory.

Chapter III. RED WULL

THE winter came and went; the lambing season was over, and
spring already shyly kissing the land. And the back of the year s
work broken, and her master well started on a fresh season,
M'Adam's old collie, Cuttie Sark, lay down one evening and passed
quietly away.

The little black-and-tan lady, Parson Leggy used to say, had been
the only thing on earth M'Adam cared for. Certainly the two had
been wondrously devoted; and for many a market-day the
Dalesmen missed the shrill, chuckling cry which heralded the
pair's approach: "Weel done, Cuttie Sark!"

The little man felt his loss acutely, and, according to his wont,
vented his ill-feeling on David and the Dalesmen. In return,
Tammas, whose forte lay in invective and alliteration, called him
behind his back, "A wenomous one!" and "A wiralent wiper!" to
the applause of tinkling pewters.

A shepherd without his dog is like a ship without a rudder, and
M'Adarn felt his loss practically as well as otherwise. Especially
did he experience this on a day when he had to take a batch of
draft-ewes over to Grammoch-town. To help him Jem Burton had