"Ye're not custen dahn, then, maister?" cried Joe. "Not a stiver, mon garçon-which means, my lad. Get up, and we'll take a turn through the mill before the hands come in, and I'll explain my future plans. We'll have the machinery yet, Joseph. You never heard of Bruce, perhaps?" "And th' arrand (spider)? Yes, but I hev. I've read th' history o' Scotland, and happen knaw as mich on't as ye; and I understand ye to mean to say ye'll persevere." "I do." "Is there mony o' your mak' i' your country?" inquired Joe, as he folded up his temporary bed, and put it away. "In my country! Which is my country?"