The season of stubble not yet arrived, they were limited to the pasturage and moorland, which, however, large as their kite was, were spacious enough.

Slowly the great-headed creature arose from the hands of Shargar, and ascended about twenty feet, when, as if seized with a sudden fit of wrath or fierce indignation, it turned right round and dashed itself with headlong fury to the earth, as if sooner than submit to such influences a moment longer it would beat out its brains at once.
'It hasna half tail eneuch,' cried Robert.

'It's queer 'at things winna gang up ohn hauden them doon.

Pu' a guid han'fu' o' clover, Shargar.
She's had her fa', an' noo she'll gang up a' richt.

She's nane the waur o' 't.' Upon the next attempt, the kite rose triumphantly.