The feelings which arose in Wakefield’s mind, would have induced him to resist Mr. Ireby’s decision; but every Englishman has a tolerably accurate sense of law and justice, and John Fleecebumpkin, the bailiff, having acknowledged that he had exceeded his commission, Wakefield saw nothing else for it than to collect his hungry and disappointed charge, and drive them on to seek quarters elsewhere.  Robin Oig saw what had happened with regret, and hastened to offer to his English friend to share with him the disputed possession.  But Wakefield’s pride was severely hurt, and he answered disdainfully, “Take it all man—­take it all—­never make two bites of a cherry—­thou canst talk over the gentry, and blear a plain man’s eye—­Out upon you, man—­I would not kiss any man’s dirty latchets for leave to bake in his oven.”

Robin Oig, sorry but not surprised at his comrade’s displeasure, hastened to entreat his friend to wait but an hour till he had gone to the Squire’s house to receive payment for the cattle he had sold, and he would come back and help him to drive the cattle into some convenient place of rest, and explain to him the whole mistake they had both of them fallen into.  But the Englishman continued indignant:  “Thou hast been selling, hast thou?  Ay, ay—­thou is a cunning lad for kenning the hours of bargaining.  Go to the devil with thyself, for I will ne’er see thy fause loon’s visage again—­thou should be ashamed to look me in the face.”

“I am ashamed to look no man in the face,” said Robin Oig, something moved; “and, moreover, I will look you in the face this blessed day, if you will bide at the Clachan down yonder.”

“Mayhap you had as well keep away,” said his comrade; and turning his back on his former friend, he collected his unwilling associates, assisted by the bailiff, who took some real and some affected interest in seeing Wakefield accommodated.

After spending some time in negotiating with more than one of the neighbouring farmers, who could not, or would not, afford the accommodation desired, Henry Wakefield, at last, and in his necessity, accomplished his point by means of the landlord of the alehouse at which Robin Oig and he had agreed to pass the night, when they first separated from each other.  Mine host was content to let him turn his cattle on a piece of barren moor, at a price little less than the bailiff had asked for the disputed enclosure; and the wretchedness of the pasture, as well as the price paid for it, were set down as exaggerations of the breach of faith and friendship of his Scottish crony.  This turn of Wakefield’s passions was encouraged by the bailiff (who had his own reasons for being offended against poor Robin, as having been the unwitting cause of his falling into disgrace with his master), as well as by the innkeper, and two or three chance guests, who soothed the drover in his resentment against his quondam associate,—­some from the ancient grudge against the Scots, which, when it exists any