He was filled with a
fierce championship of the wee Highlander, whose loyalty to that
dead master had brought him to this strait.
To the magistrate Mr. Traill's tossed-up head had the effect of
defiance, and brought a sharp rebuke. "Don't split hairs, Mr.
Traill. You are wasting the time of the court. You admit feeding
the dog. Who is his master and where does he sleep?"
"His master is in his grave in auld Greyfriars kirkyard, and the
dog has aye slept there on the mound."
The magistrate leaned over his desk. "Man, no dog could sleep in
the open for one winter in this climate. Are you fond of
romancing, Mr. Traill?"
"No' so overfond, your Honor. The dog is of the subarctic breed
of Skye terriers, the kind with a thick under-jacket of fleece,
and a weather thatch that turns rain like a crofter's cottage
roof."
"There should be witnesses to such an extraordinary story. The
dog could not have lived in this strictly guarded churchyard
without the consent of those in authority." The magistrate was
plainly annoyed and skeptical, and Mr. Traill felt the sting of
it.
"Ay, the caretaker has been his gude friend, but Mr. Brown is ill
of rheumatism, and can no' come out. Nae doubt, if necessary, his
deposeetion could be tak'n. Permission for the bit dog to live in
the kirkyard was given by the meenister of Greyfriars auld kirk,
but Doctor Lee is in failing health and has gone to the south of
France.
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