M'Adam laughed again, and smote his leg.

"Keep a ceevil tongue and yer distance," says he, "or I'll e'en ha' to
mak' ye. Though he is but as big as a man's thumb, a dog's a dog
for a' that--he! he! the leetle devil." And he fell to flipping finger
and thumb afresh.

"Ye're maybe wantin' a dog?" inquired the stranger. "Yer friend
said as much."

"Ma friend lied; it's his way," M'Adam replied.

"I'm willin' to part wi' him," the other pursued.

The little man yawned. "Weel, I'll tak' him to oblige ye," he said
indifferently.

The drover rose to his feet.

"It's givin' 'im ye, fair givin' im ye, mind! But I'll do it!"--he
smacked a great fist into a hollow palm. "Ye may have the dog for
a pun'--I'll only ask you a pun'," and he walked away to the
window.

M'Adam drew back, the better to scan his would-be benefactor; his
lower jaw dropped, and he eyed the stranger with a drolly sarcastic
air.

"A poun', man! A pouxi'--for yon noble dorg!" he pointed a