There'll be a laddie, or maybe more than one, waiting for you on this side the village to give you instructions.

Take your orders from them.

If it's a red-haired ruffian called Dougal you'll be wise to heed what he says, for he has a grand head for battles." Five minutes later Dickson was pursuing a quavering course like a snipe down the avenue.

He was a miserable performer on a bicycle.

Not for twenty years had he bestridden one, and he did not understand such new devices as free-wheels and change of gears.