The maister was an auld man, nearhan' auchty, an' tuik things the
mair seriously, I daursay, that he wasna that far frae the grave
they had sent the puir butler til afore his time--gien that could be
said o' ane whause grave was wi' the weather-cock! An' aye he tuik
himsel' to task as to whether he ouchtna to hae dune something
mair--gane to the king maybe--for he couldna bide the thoucht o' the
puir man that had waitit upon him sae lang an' faithfu', hingin' an'
swingin' up there, an' the flesh drappin' aff the banes o' 'im, an'
still the banes hingin' there, an' swingin' an' creakin' an' cryin'!
The thoucht, I say, was sair upo' the auld man. But the time passed,
an' I kenna hoo lang or hoo short it may tak for a body in sic a
position to come asun'er, but at last the banes began to drap, an'
as they drappit, there they lay--at the fut o' the gallows, for
naebody caret to meddle wi' them. An' whan that cam to the knowledge
o' the auld gentleman, he sent his fowk to gether them up an' bury
them oot o' sicht. An' what was left o' the body, the upper pairt,
hauden thegither wi' the irons, maybe--I kenna weel hoo, hung an'
swung there still, in ilk win' that blew. But at the last, oot o'
sorrow, an' respec' for the deid, hooever he dee'd, his auld maister
sent quaietly ae mirk nicht, an' had the lave o' the banes taen doon
an' laid i' the earth.
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