Then he turned on David, seized the stake from his hand, and began furiously belaboring the boy.
"I'll teach ye to strike--a puir--dumb--harmless--creetur, ye--cruel--cruel---lad!" he cried. "Hoo daur ye strike--ma----Wullie? yer--father's----Wullie? Adam--M 'Adam's--Red Wull?" He was panting from his exertions, and his eyes were blazing. "I pit up as best I can wi' all manner o' disrespect to masel'; but when it comes to takin' ma puir Wullie, I canna thole it. Ha' ye no heart?" he asked, unconscious of the irony of the question.
"As much as some, I reck'n," David muttered.
"Ye may thrash me till ye're blind; and it's nob'but yer duty; but if only one daurs so much as to look at yer Wullie ye're mad," the boy answered bitterly. And with that he turned away defiantly and openly in the direction of Kenmuir.
M'Adam made a step forward, and then stopped.
"I'll see ye agin, ma lad, this evenin'," he cried with cruel significance.
"I doot but yo'll be too drunk to see owt--except, 'appen, your bottle," the boy shouted back; and swaggered down the hill.
At Kenmuir that night the marked and particular kindness of Elizabeth Moore was too much for the overstrung lad. Overcome by the contrast of her sweet motherliness, he burst into a storm of invective against his father, his home, his life--everything.
"Don't 'ee, Davie, don't 'ee, dearie!" cried Mrs. Moore, much distressed. And taking him to her she talked to the great, sobbing boy as though he were a child. At length he lifted his face and looked up; and, seeing the white, wan countenance of his dear comforter, was struck with tender remorse that he had given way and pained her, who looked so frail and thin herself.
He mastered himself with an effort; and, for the rest of the evening, was his usual cheery self. He teased Maggie into tears; chaffed stolid little Andrew; and bantered Sam'l Todd until that generally impassive man threatened to bash his snout for him.
Yet it was with a great swallowing at his throat that, later, he turned down the slope for home.
James Moore and Parson Leggy accompanied him to the bridge over the Wastrel, and stood a while watching as he disappeared into the summer night.
"Yon's a good lad," said the Master half to himself.