Some thrust out their snuff-mulls for the parting pinch, others
tendered the DOCH-AN-DORRACH, or parting cup. All cried, "Good-
luck travel out with you and come home with you. Give you luck
in the Saxon market--brave notes in the LEABHAR-DHU," (black
pocket-book), "and plenty of English gold in the SPORRAN" (pouch
of goat-skin).
The bonny lasses made their adieus more modestly, and more than
one, it was said, would have given her best brooch to be certain
that it was upon her that his eye last rested as he turned
towards the road.
Robin Oig had just given the preliminary "HOO-HOO!" to urge
forward the loiterers of the drove, when there was a cry behind
him:--
"Stay, Robin--bide a blink. Here is Janet of Tomahourich--auld
Janet, your father's sister."
"Plague on her, for an auld Highland witch and spaewife," said a
farmer from the Carse of Stirling; "she'll cast some of her
cantrips on the cattle."
"She canna do that," said another sapient of the same profession.
"Robin Oig is no the lad to leave any of them without tying Saint
Mungo's knot on their tails, and that will put to her speed the
best witch that ever flew over Dimayet upon a broomstick.
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