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For the sheriff officers to lay their lugs in. Na, na! sma'er browst may serve them; I'll mak' sure o' some o't. [Takes a drink, and exit.

I wonder whaur the laird is: its an unchancy time for him to be out of the gaet. Donald, Donald!

Whaur's the laird? He should be here to receive the sheriff.

He's no in the house.

Gang and find him in the fields, then.

He's no in the fields, neither.

Whaur is he, then?

He'll be a clever fellow, I reckon, that finds him on the hither side o' Dumbarton.

How dost tu ken that sa weel? What suld tak him to Dumbarton?