Staple broke off here and paused, as though so much conversation were an effort. Macdonald put in easily:
“I can well believe it. It must be a sad sort of life for a man. No one really likes being lonely.”
“Better be lonely than aye bothered with someone cracking,” said Staple, “howsomever, it’s likely Bob did brood ower much—and what then? He’s no murderer, take it from me, neither would he play any dirty trick that’d go against the grain with a farmer.” He turned and faced Macdonald. “Bob’s a proper farmer. Remember that,” he said. “He wouldn’t drive off another man’s beasts, nor see his ewes worried, aye, and he’d send word if any beasts were in trouble. That’s second nature to a farmer. But maybe he brooded till he felt he must have his say. He maybe wanted to tell Mr. Garth just wha
