How he escaped a broken neck in that dreadful place no human being will ever ken. The sweat, he has told me, stood in cold drops upon his forehead; he scarcely was aware of the saddle in which he sat, and his eyes werestelled in his head so that he saw nothing but the skyayont him.
1934,Lewis Grassic Gibbon,Grey Granite (A Scots Quair), Polygon, published2006, page485:
Ayont the windows in the waning of the afternoon, Chris could see the frozen glister of night on the Grampians […].
