_A Yard. In the open space between the rows of pens the AUCTIONEER is
trying to dispose of some horses which are trotted out one by one in the
usual fashion._
THE AUCTIONEER (_spectacled, red-bearded, canny, slightly Arcadian touch
imparted by straw hat, and a sprig of heather in his button-hole_).
What'll I say for this, noo? (_A horse of a meditative mien is just
brought in._) Here's a beast, and a very good beast, from Lochaber!
(_The bystanders remain unmoved._) He was bred by Meester MacFarlane, o'
Drumtappit, and ye'll all ha' haird on him as the biggest breeder in
these pairts. (_Heads are shaken, so much as to intimate that this
particular animal does not do Mr. MacFarlane justice._) Trot him up an'
doon a bit, boy, and show his action--stan' away back there! _(With
affected concern_.) Don't curb him so tight--be careful now, or ye'll do
meeschief to yourself an' others! (_As the horse trots past them,_
_several critics slap it disrespectfully on the hind-quarters--a liberty
which it bears with meekness._) There's a pace for ye--he's a guid
woorker, a gran' beast--hoo much shall we say for him? (_Nobody seems
able to express his appreciation of the grand beast in figures._) Just
to stairt ye then--twenty poon! (_Even the animal himself appears
slightly staggered by this sum; bystanders are quietly derisive;
AUCTIONEER climbs rapidly down without interruption till he reaches six
pounds, when he receives his first bid._) Sex poon' is bed for 'm--is
there ony advance on sex poon? (_Someone in the background:--"Fefteen
shellin'!"_) Sex-fefteen--noo, Meester McRobbie, wull ye no luik this
way? (_MR. MCR. responds by a decided negative._) Ye won't? Ah, I never
got ony guid from ye--'cept when I didn't meet ye. (_This piece of
Scotch "wut" raises a laugh at MR. MCR.'S expense, but does not affect
the bidding, which still languishes._) Then, he's going at
sex-fefteen--for the last time. Whaur's my bedder at sex-fefteen?
(_Repentance or modesty prevents the bidder from coming forward, and the
AUCTIONEER continues, more in grief than anger._) Eh, this is too bad
noo--I'll thank no man for making me a bed, 'cept those that are meant
in airnest. No one bed onything for a beast like this! Then I hae to
tell ye ye've not bed near up to the resairve price on it. (_Suddenly
becomes weary of the animal._) Tak' it awa'. (_The next horse is led
in._) Now, here's a beast that's well-known, I'm thenkin'. (_The general
expression signifies that its reputation is not altogether to its
credit._) There's a well-bred mare--open up, and let her show hersel'.
(_The mare is shown, but fails to excite competition._) Ah, ye'll ony
buy screws to-day, an' not the nice things at a'--tak' her away. (_The
mare is taken out ignominiously; AUCTIONEER, followed by crowd, leads
the way to where a pony and trap are standing harnessed._) Noo, I'm gaun
to pit up the pony an' van--just show them hoo she goes in hairness,
boy. (_To intrusive collie._) Out of the way, dug, in case ye get your
feet smashed. (_Trap starts off, and is driven out of sight._) Whaur's
the laddie gaun ta? Thenks he'll show himsel' at Nairn, maybe! Ah, here
she comes. (_Trap returns at a modest pace._) Stan' back, noo, all of
ye; give her room. I'll sell the mare first, and a beauty she is--what
shell we say? Ten poons--and she's a nice one! Well, stairt her at five,
she may get up. (_Bidding gets up to ten pounds, where it stops._) Then
she goes at ten, and I'm very glad she's gaun to a gude auld friend o'
mine--Meester McKenzie, o' Glenbannock. Wull ye say five mair, and take
the hairness, Meester McKenzie? It's _richt_ hairness! (_MR. MCK.
declines to be tempted._) Well, I'm sorry ye wull na, I'd ha liked
(_sentimentally, as if it had been the dream of his life_) for the mare
an' the hairness to go togither and no to pairt them--but as 'tis, it
canna be helped. We'll pass on to the pegs, if you please. (_Passes to a
row of pens containing pigs, and mounts some planks placed along the
top._) Now, these are some proper pegs. (_A rush is made for the rails
enclosing the pigs, which instantly become self-conscious and redouble
their grunts._) Noo, laddies, laddies, it's no fair o' ye taking up a'
the room i' that way. I'm quite sure there's a lot o' ye in front that's
no buying pegs--ye hanna the luik o' pairsons that buy pegs. Stan' by
for shame, and don't keep them that comes to buy, where they canna see
sae much as a tail. Hoo much apiece for these palefaced pegs? Ye've an
awfu' guid view o' them there, Mr. Ferguson,---luik this way once again
for forrty and threepence. (_Persuasively._) It'll soun' better wi' the
threepence. Gaun' for forty an' three. (_The owner of the pigs calls out
"No!"_) I thocht I made a law here that people having pegs should gie me
the resairve at the time--see what ye do now, Peter MacPhairson, make a
fule of the buyers and a fule o' mysel'!--but (_with tolerant contempt_)
Peter is not a strong man, we must no be haird on Peter. (_Roar from
crowd;_ _disappearance of MR. MACPH._) I'll cancel no more sales that
way, however, as I eentimate to ye once for a'.
'ARRY (_on tour from Town--to his admiring friend_). I say, Charley,
what d'yer bet I don't talk to some of these chaps in their own lingo?
CHARLEY. What a fellow you are! Mind what you are about, that's all.
'ARRY (_going up to an elderly person in the only Scotch cap visible_).
Hech, Sair, but yon's a braw bonnie wee bit piggie fur a body to tak' a
richt gude wullie waucht wi' gin ye meet him comin' thro' the rye!
The PERSON IN THE SCOTCH CAP (_who happens to be a retired Colonel in a
Highland Regiment, who is somewhat careless in his attire_). I think you
will find that sort of thing better appreciated after you've got home.
[_'ARRY returns to CHARLEY, feeling much smaller than he allows
his friend to perceive._
[Illustration]