Now, here's you.

Ye lie on your wame a bittie in the bield of this wood, and ye tell me that ye've cuist off these Frasers and Macgregors.

Why! _Because I couldnae see them_, says you.

Ye blockhead, that's their livelihood." "Take the worst of it," said I, "and what are we to do ?" "I am thinking of that same," said he.

"We might twine.