ay, nae dout, but it’s time for yer tea, and syne ye’ll hae to gang to yer bed.’
‘Ay, but can I no gang the morn?’
‘We’ll see what yer grannie says.’
‘But she aye says na.’
‘What’s putten it into yer heid to catch mennans?’
‘I like catchin mennans.’
‘Ay, ay, nae dout.’
‘Grandfaither?’
‘Ay?’
‘Tam Baxter peys a penny a dizzen for mennans.’
‘Wha telt ye that?’
‘A laddie frae Kirkfieldbank.’
‘Weill, weill.’
‘Daes he?’
‘I daursay.’
‘It wad be grand to hae some mennans to sell him.’
‘Ay weill, we’ll see. I’ll be weeding aside Clyde the morn.’
‘Will ye lift me doun ower the bank, then?’
‘Mebbe, I’ll ask yer grannie.’
He didna ask her at tea-time, and I was beginnin to think he had forgotten, but whan he cairrit me to my bed he gied me a wink ο his guid ee, the tither was blin, and I jaloused he hadna.
Shair eneuch, whan he had feenished his denner the neist day, and I had forgotten the mennans athegither, for the baker had come in the mornin and gien me a wee curran loaf, he gaed to the scullery and cam back wi ane ο the milk cans.
‘Hae ye a gless jaur ye could gie the bairn?’
My grannie soondit crabbit, but it was juist her wey.
‘Ye’ll fin ane in the bunker.’
He took me to the scullery and fand the gless jaur.
‘Come on,’ he said.
My grannie cried frae the kitchen.
‘Dinna let him faa in, nou, or ye needna come back.’
We gaed oot into the closs withoot peyin ony heed.
On yer wey doun to Clyde ye took the same road as ye did to the waal, and as faur as the waal the grun was weill trampit, but faurer doun there was haurdly mair to let ye ken the wey than the space atween the grosset busses and the hedge, and there the grun was aa thistles and stickie willie. He carrit me ower that bit, to save my bare legs, and we hadna gane faur whan the rummle ο Stanebyres Linn grew sae lood that we could haurdly hear oorsells. No that I wantit to say ocht, for near the soun ο the watter I was aye awed, and I was thinkin ο the mennans soumin into my jaur.
We cam to the fute ο the brae and turnt to the richt, alang the bank abune the watter, and were sune oot ο the orchard and ower by the strawberry beds. The weemen were waitin to stert the weedin, sittin on the gress aneth the hazels, maist ο them wi their coats kiltit up and their cutties gaun.
I didna like to hae to staun fornent the weemen. They couldna haud their silly tongues aboot my bonnie reid hair, and ane ο them wad be shair to try to lift me, and as my grannie said they had a smell like tinkers, aye warkin in the clartie wat cley. My grandfaither saw them stertit at ance, though, and syne turnt to tak me doun to Clyde.
The wey ower the bank was gey kittle to tak, wi the rocks aa wat moss, and I grippit my grandfaither ticht, but he gat me to the bottom wi nae mair hairm nor the stang ο a nettle on my left fute. He rubbit the stang wi the leaf ο a docken, and tied a string to the neck ο my jaur, and efter tellin me no to gang near the Lowp gaed awa back up to his wark.
An awesome laneliness came ower me as sune as he had turnt his back. It wasna juist the rummle o the Linn frae faurer doun the watter: it was the black hole aneth the bank at my back whaur the otters bade, and the fearsome wey the watter gaed through the Lowp. The front ο the hole was hung ower wi creepers, and ye couldna be shair that the otters werena sittin ben ahint them, waitin to sneak oot whan ye werena lookin and put their shairp teeth into yer legs.
The Lowp was waur. It was doun a wee frae the otter hole, across a muckle rock, whaur the hail braid watter ο Clyde, sae gentle faurer up, shot through awteen twa straucht black banks like shinie daurk-green gless; and the space atween was sae nerra that a man could lowp across. It wasna an easy lowp, faur abune the pouer ο a laddie, yet ye fand yersell staunin starin at it, fair itchin to hae a try. A halflin frae Nemphlar had tried it ance, in a spate whan the rocks were aa spume, and he had landit short and tummlet in backwards, and it was nae mair nor a meenit afore his daith-skrech was heard frae Stanebyres Linn itsell, risin abune the thunner ο the spate like a stab ο lichtnin.
The sun was oot, though, and I tried no to heed, and truith to tell gin it hadna been sae eerie it wad hae been lichtsome there, for in aa the rock cracks whaur yirth had gethert there were harebells growin, dentie and wan, and back and forrit on the mossie stanes that stude abune the watter gaed wee willie waggies, bobbin up and doun wi their tails gaun a dinger, and whiles haein a douk to tak the stour aff their feathers.
I didna gie them mair nor a look, for I had come to catch mennans, and as I grippit my can and jaur and gaed forrit ower the rock to the whirlies I could feel my hairt thumpin like to burst through my breist. It was aye the same when I was eager, and it didna help.
The whirlies were roun holes in the rock aside the neck ο the Lowp, worn wi the swirl ο the watter whan it rase in spate and fludit its haill coorse frae bank to bank; but whan Clyde was doun on a simmer day they were dry aa roun, wi juist a pickle watter comin hauf-wey up them, clear eneuch to let ye see the colours ο aa the bonnie chuckies at the fute.
Nou there was ae whirlie lie wi a shalla end, and a runnel that cam in frae Clyde itsell, and on a hot day, gin aa was quait, the mennans slippit ben, aboot twenty at a time, to lie abune the warm chuckies and gowp in the sun. That was the whirlie for me, for gin ye bade quait eneuch till the mennans were aa weill ben, and laid yer jaur in the runnel wi its mou peyntin in, and syne stude up and gied them a fricht, they turnt and gaed pell mell into it.
I laid doun my can and creepit forrit, and shair eneuch the mennans were there, but I couldna hae been cannie eneuch, for the meenit I gaed to lay my jaur in the runnel they shot richt past and left the whirlie tuim. It was a peety, but it didna maitter. I kent that gin I waitit they wad syne come back.
The awkward thing was that if ye sat whaur ye could see the mennans the mennans could see yersell, sae I had to sit weill back and juist jalouse whan they micht steer again. I made up my mind no to move ower sune.
Wi haein nocht to dae I fell into a dwam, and thocht ο this thing and that, but maistly ο the siller Tam Baxter peyed for the mennans. Syne my banes gat sair, sittin on the hard rock, and I moved a wee to ease mysell a bit. On the turn roun my ee spied the otter hole, and I could hae sworn I saw the creepers movin. I began to feel gey feart, and my thochts took panic, and it wasna lang afore I was thinkin ο the halflin that fell in the Lowp, though I had tried gey hard no to.
I lookit up the bank for my grandfaither, and shair eneuch there he was, staunin looking doun on me to see that I was aa richt. I felt hairtent then, and pat my fingers to my mou to keep him frae cry in oot to me, for I kent that gin he did he wad ask hou mony mennans I had cat chit, and I didna want to hae to tell him nane.
Kennin he was there, I grew eager to show him what a clever laddie I was, and I kent I had gien the mennans rowth ο time to win back ben the whirlie, saw aa at once I lowpit forrit and laid my jaur in the runnel; but I was sae has tie that I laid it wrang wey roun. It didna maitter, though, for the mennans were ben, dizzens ο them, and they couldna win oot. Quick as a thocht I turnt the jaur roun and gied a lood