The thought flashed on him that if he were too immobile they might think he was dying or dead, and come close to examine him.

If they only kept their distance, the dusk of the wood would prevent them detecting Jaikie's handiwork.
"What'll you take to let me go ?" he asked plaintively.
"Naething that you could offer, my mannie," said Ecky.
"I'll give you a five-pound note apiece." "Produce the siller," said the other.
"It's in my pocket." "It's no' that.

We riped your pooches lang syne." "I'll take you to Glasgow with me and pay you there.

Honour bright." Ecky spat.

"D'ye think we're gowks?
Man, there's no siller ye could pay wad mak' it worth our while to lowse ye.