But while the excited crowd of his townsmen stood in the middle of a
stubble-field, watching the progress of the enemy at their feet, Robert
Bruce was busy in his cellar preparing for its reception. He could not
move his cask of sugar without help, and there was none of that to be
had. Therefore he was now, in his shirt-sleeves, carrying the sugar up
the cellar-stairs in the coal-scuttle, while Mrs Bruce, in a condition
very unfit for such efforts, went toiling behind him with the
_meal-bossie_ filled far beyond the brim. As soon as he had finished
his task, he hurried off to join the watchers of the water.
James Johnstone's workshop was not far from the Glamour. When he went
into it that morning, he found the treadles under water, and thought he
had better give himself _the play_.
"I'll jist tak a daun'er (stroll) doon to the brig to see the spate
gang by," he said to himself, and, putting on his grandfather's hat,
went out into the rain.
As he came near the bridge, he saw cripple Truffey leaning over the
parapet with horror-stricken looks. The next moment he bounded to his
one foot and his crutch, and _spanged_ over the bridge as if he had
been gifted with six legs.
Pages:
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539