“Hout,” quoth Willie, “cast the clue at it.”

But the bannock dodged round about, and off it went, and over the hill, like a new-tarred sheep or a mad cow.  And forward it runs to the neat-house, to the fireside; and there was the goodwife churning.

“Come away, wee bannock,” quoth she; “I’ll have cream and bread to-day.”  But the wee bannock dodged round about the churn, and the wife after it, and in the hurry she had near-hand overturned the churn.  And before she got it set right again, the wee bannock was off and down the brae to the mill; and in it ran.

The miller was sifting meal in the trough; but, looking up:  “Ay,” quoth he, “it’s a sign of plenty when ye’re running about, and nobody to look after ye.  But I like a bannock and cheese.  Come your way hither, and I’ll give ye a night’s quarters.”  But the bannock wouldn’t trust itself with the miller and his cheese.  So it turned and ran its way out; but the miller didn’t fash his head with it.

So it toddled away and ran till it came to the smithy; and in it runs, and up to the anvil.  The smith was making horse-nails.  Quoth he:  “I like a glass of good ale and a well-toasted bannock.  Come your way in by here.”  But the bannock was frightened when it heard about the ale, and turned and was off as hard as it could, and the smith after it, and cast the hammer.  But it missed, and the bannock was out of sight in a crack, and ran till it came to a farmhouse with a good peat-stack at the end of it.  Inside it runs to the fireside.  The goodman was cloving lint, and the goodwife heckling.  “O Janet,” quoth he, “there’s a wee bannock; I’ll have the half of it.”

“Well, John, I’ll have the other half.  Hit it over the back with the clove.”  But the bannock played dodgings.  “Hout, tout,” quoth the wife, and made the heckle flee at it.  But it was too clever for her.

And off and up the burn it ran to the next house, and rolled its way to the fireside.  The goodwife was stirring the soup, and the goodman plaiting sprit-binnings for the cows.  “Ho, Jock,” quoth the goodwife, “here come.  You’re always crying about a wee bannock.  Here’s one.  Come in, haste ye, and I’ll help ye to grip it.”

“Ay, mother, where is it?”

“See there.  Run over on that side.”

But the bannock ran in behind the goodman’s chair.  Jock fell among the sprits.  The goodman cast a binning, and the goodwife the spurtle.  But it was too clever for Jock and her both.  It was off and out of sight in a crack, and through among the whins, and down the road to the next house, and in and snug by the fireside.  The folk were just sitting down to their soup, and the goodwife scraping the pot.  “Look,” quoth she, “there’s a wee bannock come in to warm itself at our fireside.”

“Shut the door,” quoth the goodman, “and we’ll try to get a grip of it.”

When the bannock heard that, it ran out of the house and they after it with their spoons, and the goodman shied his hat.  But it rolled away and ran, and ran, till it came to another house; and when it went in the folk were just going to their beds.  The goodman was taking off his breeches, and the goodwife raking the fire.