Oor ain folk times

THE SMUGGLER AND THE GAUGER 7
pretty a sample of whisky as ever had perfumed the
caller air of the Glen. It happened to be the beginning
of winter, and the hoary frost had bound every placid
reach of water in its iron embrace. To get to Geordie's
house the gauger had to cross a small ford, but when
he came to it he found it frozen over ; and the black,
thin ice did not look very inviting, especially as he did
not know the depth of the water beneath. Knowing the
treacherous nature of these mountain streams, but quite
unaware that this was a perfectly safe crossing-place,
he did not like to trust himself and horse to the
dangerous-looking ice, though, from the signs he saw,
he felt convinced that he had come at an opportune
moment so far as his quest was concerned. He was not,
however, brave enough to trust himself to the mercy of
unknown depths, and so raising his voice he hailed the
shieling.
Young Geordie had in the meantime apprised his
father of the advent of this unwelcome visitor, and they
were both desperately engaged in trying to hide the
evidences of their illegal pursuit. The grain and
worts had hardly been concealed, and while the young-
fellow sought to carry away the still and other appur-
tenances to a favourite hiding-place, auld Geordie
sallied forth in his shirt-sleeves, and with a long hay-
fork in his hand.
The gauger hailed him : ' What is the depth of the
water, my man 1 '
Geordie's keen and ready wit immediately jumped to
a solution of the difficulty, and putting on an air of the
utmost innocence — though inly cursing the treachery
of the informer who as he now divined had set the