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As a rule, when he set his face that way, he rode armed, and with all

his men behind him, for these were the old reiving days, when we folk

who dwelt on the Scottish side of the Border thought we had a right to

go and steal what we could, sheep, or oxen, or even hay, from the

English loons, who, in their turn, would come slipping over from their

side to take like liberties with us, and mayhap burn down a house or two

in the by-going.



My father was aye in the thick and throng of these raids, for he was

such a big powerful man that he was more than a match for three

Englishmen, did he chance to meet them. Men called him an outlaw, but we

thought little of that; most of the brave men on our side had been

outlawed at one time or another, and it did them little ill: indeed, it

was aye thought to be rather a feather in their cap.



Well, as I say, my father was not riding on business, as it were, this

morning, for just then there was a truce for a day or two between the

countries, the two Wardens of the Marches, Sir Walter Scott of

Buccleuch, and My Lord Scroope, having sent their deputies to meet and

settle some affairs at the Dayholme of Kershope, where a burn divides

England from Scotland. My father and I had attended the Truce Muster,

and were riding homeward with but a handful of men, when I took a sudden

notion into my head, that I would like to cross the Border, and ride a

few miles on English ground.



My birthday had fallen the week before (I was just eleven years old),

and my father, aye kind to his motherless bairns, had given me a new

pony, a little shaggy beast from Galloway, and, as I was keen to see how

it would run beside a big man's horse, I had pled hard for permission to

accompany him on it to the Muster.



As a rule I never rode with him. "I was too young for the work," he

would say; but that day he gave his consent, only making the bargain

that there should be no crying out or grumbling if I were tired or

hungry long ere we got home again. I had laughed at the idea as I

saddled my shaggy little nag, and, to make matters sure, I had gone to

Janet, the kitchen wench, and begged her for a satchel of oatcakes and

cheese, which I fastened to my saddle strap, little dreaming what need I

would have of them before the day was out.



The Truce Muster had broken up sooner than he expected, so my father saw

no reason why he should not grant my request, and let me have a canter

on English soil, for on a day of truce we could cross the Border if we

chose without the risk of being taken prisoners by Lord Scroope's men,

and marched off to Carlisle Castle, while the English had a like

privilege, and could ride down Liddesdale in open daylight, if they were

so minded.



Scarce had we crossed the little burn, however, which runs between

low-growing hazel bushes, and separates us from England, when two of the

men rode right into a bog, and when, after some half-hour's work, we got

the horses out again, we found that both of them wanted a shoe, and my

father said at once that we must go straight home, in case they went

lame.



At this I drew a long face. I had never been into England, and it was a

sore disappointment to be turned back just when we had reached it.



"Well, well," said my father, laughing, ever soft-hearted where I was

concerned, "I suppose I must e'en take thee a ride into Bewcastle, lad,

since we have got this length. The men can go back with the horses; 'tis

safe enough to go alone to-day."



So the men turned back, nothing loth, for Bewcastle Waste was no unknown

land to them, and my father and I rode on for eight miles or so, over

that most desolate country. Its bareness and loneliness disappointed me.

Somehow I had expected that England would be quite different from

Scotland, even although they were all one piece of land, with only a

burn running between.



"Hast had enough?" said my father at last, noticing my downcast face,

and drawing rein. "Didst expect all the trees to be made of silver, and

all the houses to be built of gold? Never mind, lad, every place looks

much the same in the month of April, I trow, especially when it has been

a backward season; but if summer were once and here, I'll let thee ride

with the troop, and mayhap thou wilt get a glimpse of 'Merrie Carlisle,'

as they call it. It lies over there, twelve miles or more from where we

stand."



As he pointed out the direction with his whip, we both became aware of a

large body of men, riding rapidly over the moor as if to meet us. My

father eyed them keenly, his face growing grave as he did so.



"Who are they, father?" I asked with a sinking heart. I had lived long

enough at Kinmont to know that men did not generally ride together in

such numbers unless they were bent on mischief.



"It's Sakelde, the English Warden's deputy, and no friend o' mine," he

answered with a frown, "and on any other day I would not have met him

alone like this for a hundred merks; but the truce holds for three days

yet, so we are quite safe; all the same, lad, we had better turn our

horses round, and slip in behind that little hill; they may not have

noticed us, and in that case 'tis no use rousing their curiosity."



Alas! we had no sooner set our horses to the trot, than it became

apparent that not only were we observed, but that for some reason or

other the leader of the band of horsemen was desirous of barring our

way.



He gave an order,--we could see him pointing with his hand,--and at once

his men spurred on their horses and began to spread out so as to

surround us. Then my father swore a big oath, and plunged his spurs into

his horse's sides. "Come on, Jock," he shouted, "sit tight and be a man;

if we can only get over the hill edge at Kershope, they'll pay for this

yet."





I will remember that race to my dying day. It appeared to last for

hours, but it could not have lasted many minutes, ten at the most,

during which time all the blood in my body seemed to be pounding and

surging in my head, and the green grass and the sky to be flying past

me, all mixed up together, and behind, and on all sides, came the

pit-pat of horses' feet, and then someone seized my pony's rein, and

brought him up with a jerk, and my father and I were sitting in the

midst of two hundred armed riders, whose leader, a tall man, with a thin

cunning face, regarded us with a triumphant smile.



"Neatly caught, thou thieving rogue," he said; "by my troth, neatly

caught. Who would have thought that Kinmont Willie would have been such

a fool as to venture so far from home without an escort? But I can

supply the want, and thou shalt ride to Carlisle right well attended,

and shall never now lack a guard till thou partest with thy life at

Haribee."



As the last word fell on my ear, I had much ado to keep my seat, for I

turned sick and faint, and all the crowd of men and horses seemed to

whirl round and round. Haribee! Right well I knew that fateful name, for

it was the place at Carlisle where they hanged prisoners. They could not

hang my father--they dare not--for although he had been declared an

outlaw, and might perhaps merit little love from the English, was not

this a day of truce, when all men could ride where they would in safety?



"'Tis a day of truce," I gasped with dry lips; but the men around me

only laughed, and I could hear that my father's fierce remonstrance met

with no better answer.



"Thou art well named, thou false Sakelde," I heard him say, and his

voice shook with fury, "for no man of honour would break the King's

truce in this way."



But Sakelde only gave orders to his men to bind their prisoner, saying,

as he did so, "I warrant Lord Scroope will be too glad to see thee to

think much about the truce, and if thou art so scrupulous, thou needest

not be hanged for a couple of days; the walls of Carlisle Castle are

thick enough to guard thee till then. Be quick, my lads," he went on,

turning to his men; "we have a good fourteen miles to ride yet, and I

have no mind to be benighted ere we reach firmer ground."



So they tied my father's feet together under his horse, and his hands

behind his back, and fastened his bridle rein to that of a trooper, and

the word was given for the men to form up, and they began to move

forward as sharply as the boggy nature of the ground would allow.



I followed in the rear with a heavy heart. I could easily have escaped

had I wanted to do so, for no one paid any attention to me; but I felt

that, as long as I could, I must stay near my father, whose massive head

and proud set face I could see towering above the surrounding soldiers,

for he was many inches taller than any of them.



The spring evening was fast drawing to a close as we came to the banks

of the Liddle, and splashed down a stony track to a place where there

was a ford. As we paused for a moment or two to give the horses a drink,

my father's voice rang out above the careless jesting of the troopers.



"Let me say good-bye to my eldest son, Sakelde, and send him home; or do

the English war with bairns?"



I saw the blood rise to the English leader's thin sallow face at the

taunt, but he answered quietly enough, "Let the boy speak to him and

then go back," and a way was opened up for me to where my father sat, a

bound and helpless prisoner, on his huge white horse.



One trooper, kinder than the rest, took my pony's rein as I slid off its

back and ran to him. Many a time when I was little, had I had a ride on

White Charlie, and I needed no help to scramble up to my old place on

the big horse's neck.



My father could not move, but he looked down at me with all the anger

and defiance gone out of his face, and a look on it which I had only

seen there once before, and that was when he lifted me up on his knee

after my mother died and told me that I must do my best to help him, and

try to look after the little ones.



That look upset me altogether, and, forgetting the many eyes that

watched us, and the fact that I was eleven years old, and almost a man,

I threw my arms round his neck and kissed him again and again, sobbing

and greeting as any bairn might have done, all the time.



"Ride home, laddie, and God be with ye. Remember if I fall that thou art

the head of the house, and see that thou do honour to the name," he said

aloud. Then he signed to me to go, and, just as I was clambering down,

resting a toe in his stirrup, he made a tremendous effort and bent down

over me. "If thou could'st but get word to the Lord of Buccleuch,

laddie, 'tis my only chance. They dare not touch me for two days yet.

Tell him I was ta'en by treachery at the time o' truce."



The whisper was so low I could hardly hear it, and yet in a moment I

understood all it was meant to convey, and my heart beat until I thought

that the whole of Sakelde's troopers must read my secret in my face as I

passed through them to where my pony stood.



With a word of thanks I took the rein from the kindly man who had held

it, and then stood watching the body of riders as they splashed through

the ford, and disappeared in the twilight, leaving me alone.



But I felt there was work for me to do, and a ray of hope stole into my

heart. True, it was more than twenty miles, as the crow flies, to

Branksome Tower in Teviotdale, where my Lord of Buccleuch lived, and I

did not know the road, which lay over some of the wildest hills of the

Border country, but I knew that he was a great man, holding King James'

commission as Warden of the Scottish Marches, and at his bidding the

whole countryside would rise to a man. 'Twas well known that he bore no

love to the English, and when he knew that my father had been taken in

time of truce...! The fierce anger rose in my heart at the thought,

and, burying my face in my pony's rough coat, I vowed a vow, boy as I

was, to be at Branksome by the morning, or die in the attempt. I knew

that it was no use going home to Kinmont for a man to ride with me, for

it was out of my way, and would only be a waste of time.



It was almost dark now, but I knew that the moon would rise in three or

four hours, and then there would be light enough for me to try to thread

my way over the hills that lay between the valleys of the Teviot and

Liddle. In the meantime, there was no special need to hurry, so I

loosened my pony's rein, and let him nibble away at the short sweet

grass which was just beginning to spring, while I unbuckled the bag of

cakes which I had put up so gaily in the morning, and, taking one out,

along with a bit of cheese, did my best to make a hearty meal. But I was

not very successful, for when the heart is heavy, food goes down but

slowly, and Janet's oatcake and the good ewe cheese, which at other

times I found so toothsome, seemed fairly to stick in my throat, so at

last I gave it up, and, taking the pony by the head, I began to lead him

up the valley.



Although I had been down the Liddle as far as the ford once or twice

before, it had always been in daylight, and my father had been with me;

but I knew that as long as I kept close to the river I was all right for

the first few miles, until the valley narrowed in, and then I must

strike off among the high hills on my left.



It was slow work, for it was too dark to ride, and I dare not leave the

water in case I lost my way, and by the time we had gone mayhap four or

five miles, I had almost lost heart, for I was both tired and cold, and

it seemed to me that half the night at least must be gone, and at this

rate we would never reach Branksome at all.



At last, just when the tears were getting very near my eyes--for I was

but a little chap to be set on such a desperate errand--I struck on a

narrow road which led up a brae to my left, and going along it for a

hundred yards or so, I saw a light which seemed to come from a cottage

window. I stopped and looked at it, wondering if I dare go boldly up and

knock.



In those lawless days one had to be cautious about going up to strange

houses, for one never knew whether one would find a friend or an enemy

within, so I determined to tie my pony to a tree, and steal noiselessly

up to the building, and see what sort of place it was.



I did so, and found that the light came from a tiny thatched cottage

standing by itself, sheltered by some fir trees. There appeared to be no

dogs about, so I crept quite close to the little window, and peered in

through a hole in the shutter. I could see the inside of the room quite

plainly; it was poorly furnished, but beautifully clean. In a corner

opposite the window stood a rough settle, while on a three-legged stool

by the peat fire sat an old woman knitting busily, a collie dog at her

feet.



There could be nothing to fear from her, so I knocked boldly at the

door. The collie flew to the back of it barking furiously, but I heard

the old woman calling him back, and presently she peeped out, asking who



was there.



"'Tis I, Jock Armstrong of Kinmont," I said, "and I fain would be guided

as to the quickest road to Branksome Tower."



The old woman peered over my head into the darkness, evidently expecting

to see someone standing behind me.



"I ken Willie o' Kinmont; but he's a grown man," she said suspiciously,

making as though she would shut the door.



"He's my father," I cried, vainly endeavouring to keep my voice steady,

"and--and--I have a message to carry from him to the Lord of Buccleuch

at Branksome." I would fain have told the whole story, but I knew it was

better to be cautious. I was still no distance from the English Border,

and it would take away the last chance of saving my father's life, were

Sakelde to get to know that word of his doings were like to reach the

Scottish Warden's ears.



"Loshsake, laddie!" exclaimed the old dame in astonishment, setting the

door wide open so that the light might fall full on me, "'tis full

twenty miles tae Branksome, an' it's a bad road ower the hills."



"But I have a pony," I said. "'Tis tied up down the roadway there, and

the moon will rise."



"That it will in an hour or two, but all the same I misdoubt me that

you'll lose your road. What's the matter wi' Kinmont Willie, that he has

tae send a bairn like you his messages? Ye needna' be feared to speak

out," she added as I hesitated; "Kinmont Willie is a friend of mine--at

least, he did my goodman and me a good turn once--and I would like to

pay it back again if I could."



I needed no second bidding; it was such a relief to have someone to

share the burden, and I felt better as soon as I had told her, even

although the telling brought the tears to my eyes.



The old woman listened attentively, and then shook her fist in the

direction which the English had taken.



"He's a fause loon that Sakelde," she said, "and I'd walk to Carlisle

any day to see him hanged. 'Twas he who stole our sheep, two years past

at Martinmas, and 'twas your father brought them back again. But keep up

your heart, my man; if you can get to the Bold Buccleuch he'll put

things right, I'll warrant, and I'll do all I can for you. Go inbye, and

sit down by the fire, and I'll go down the road and fetch the nag.

You'll both be the better for a rest, and a bite o' something to eat,

and when the moon is risen I'll take you up the hill, and show you the

track. My goodman is away at Hawick market, or he would ha'e ridden a

bit of the road wi' ye."



When I was a little fellow, before my mother died, she used to read me

lessons out of her great Bible with the silver clasps, and of all the

stories she read to me, I liked the lesson of the Good Samaritan best,

and, looking back, now that I am a grown man, it seems to me that I met

the Good Samaritan that night, only he was a woman.



After Allison Elliot, for that was her name, had brought my pony into

her cow-house, and seen that he was supplied with both hay and water,

she returned to the cottage, and with her own hands took off my coarse

woollen hose and heavy shoon, and spread them on the hearth to dry, then

she made me lie down on the settle, and, covering me up with a plaid,

she bade me go to sleep, promising to wake me the moment the moon rose.



It was nearly eleven o'clock when she shook me gently, bidding me get up

and put on my shoon, as it was time to be going, and, sitting up, I

found a supper of wheaten bread and hot milk on the table, which she

told me to eat, while she wrapped herself in a plaid and went out for

the nag.



What with the sleep, and the dry clothes, and the warm food, I promise

you I felt twice the man I had done a few hours earlier, and I chattered

quite gaily to her as she led my pony up a steep hillside behind the

cottage, for the moon was only beginning to rise, and there was still

but little light. After we had gone some two miles, we struck a bridle

track, well trodden by horses' hoofs, which wound upwards between two

high hills.



Here Allison paused and looked keenly at the ground.



"This is the path," she said; "you can hardly lose it, for there have

been riders over it yesterday or the day before. Scott o' Haining and

his men, most likely, going home from their meeting at the Kershope

Burn. This will lead you over by Priesthaugh Swire, and down the Allan

into Teviotdale. Beware of a bog which you will pass some two miles on

this side of Priesthaugh. 'Tis the mire Queen Mary stuck in when she

rode to visit her lover when he lay sick at Hermitage. May the Lord be

good to you, laddie, and grant you a safe convoy, for ye carry a brave

heart in that little body o' yours!"



I thanked her with all my might, promising to go back and see her if my

errand were successful; then I turned my pony's head to the hills, and

spurred him into a brisk canter. He was a willing little beast, and

mightily refreshed by Allison Elliot's hay, and, as the moon was now

shining clearly, we made steady progress; but it was a long lonely ride

for a boy of my age, and once or twice my courage nearly failed me: once

when my pony put his foot into a sheep drain, and stumbled, throwing me

clean over his head, and again when I missed the track, and rode

straight into the bog Allison had warned me about, and in which the

little beast was near sticking altogether, and I lost a good hour

getting him to firm land and finding the track again.



The bright morning sun was showing above the Eastern horizon before I

left the weary hills behind me, but it was easy work to ride down the

sloping banks of the Allan, and soon I came to the wooded valley of the

Teviot.



Urging on my tired pony, I cantered down the level haughs which lay by

the river side, and it was not long before Branksome came in sight, a

high square house, with many rows of windows, flanked by a massive

square tower at each corner.



I rode up to the great doorway through an avenue of beeches and knocked

timidly on the wrought-iron knocker, for I had never been to such a big

house in my life before, and I felt that I made but a sorry figure,

splashed as I was with mud from head to foot.



The old seneschal who came to the door seemed to think so too, for he

looked me up and down with a broad grin on his face before he asked who

I was, and on what business I had come.



"To see my Lord of Buccleuch, and carry a message to him from William

Armstrong of Kinmont," I replied, with as much dignity as I could

muster, for the fellow's smile angered me, and I feared that he might

not think it worth his while to tell the Warden of my arrival.



"Then thou shalt see Sir Walter at once, young sir, if thou wilt walk

this way," said the man, mimicking my voice good-naturedly, and,

hitching my pony's bridle to an iron ring in the door-post, he led me

along a stone passage, straight into a great vaulted hall, in the centre

of which stood a long wooden table, with a smaller one standing

crossways on a dais at its head.



A crowd of squires and men-at-arms stood round the lower table, laughing

and jesting as they helped themselves with their hunting knives to

slices from the huge joints, or quaffed great tankards of ale, while up

at the top sat my Lord of Buccleuch himself, surrounded by his knights,

and waited on by smart pages in livery, boys about my own age.



As the old seneschal appeared in the doorway there was a sudden silence,

while he announced in a loud voice that a messenger had arrived from

William Armstrong of Kinmont; but when he stepped aside, and everyone

saw that the messenger was only a little eleven-years-old lad, a loud

laugh went round the hall, and the smart pages whispered together and

pointed to my muddy clothes.



When the old seneschal saw this, he gave me a kindly nudge.



"Yonder is my Lord of Buccleuch at the top of the table," he whispered;

"go right up to him, and speak out thy message boldly."



I did as I was bid, though I felt my cheeks burn as I walked up the

great hall, among staring men and whispering pages, and when I reached

the dais where the Warden sat, I knelt at his feet, cap in hand, as my

father had taught me to do before my betters.



Sir Walter Scott, Lord of Buccleuch, of whom I had heard so much, was a

young, stern-looking man, with curly brown hair and keen blue eyes. His

word was law on the Borders, and people said that even the King, in

far-off Edinburgh, stood in awe of him; but he leant forward and spoke

kindly enough to me.



"So thou comest from Armstrong of Kinmont, boy; and had Kinmont Willie

no better messenger at hand, that he had to fall back on a smatchet like

thee?"



"There were plenty of men at Kinmont, an' it please your lordship," I

answered, "had I had time to seek them; but a man called Sakelde hath

ta'en my father prisoner, and carried him to Carlisle, and I have ridden

all night to tell thee of it, for he is like to be hanged the day after

to-morrow, if thou canst not save him."



Here my voice gave way, and I could only cling to the great man's knee,

for my quivering lips refused to say any more.



Buccleuch put his arm round me, and spoke slowly, as one would speak to

a bairn.



"And who is thy father, little man?"



"Kinmont Willie," I gasped, "and he was ta'en last night, in truce

time."



I felt the arm that was round me stiffen, and there was silence for a

moment, then my lord swore a great oath, and let his clenched fist fall

so heavily on the table, that the red French wine which stood before him

splashed right out of the beaker, a foot or two in the air.



"My Lord of Scroope shall answer for this," he cried. "Hath he forgotten

that men name me the Bold Buccleuch, and that I am Keeper o' the

Scottish Marches, to see that justice is done to high and low, gentle

and simple?"



Then he gave some quick, sharp orders, and ten or twelve men left the

room, and a minute later I saw them, through a casement, throw

themselves astride their horses, and gallop out of the courtyard. At the

sight my heart lightened, for I knew that whatever could be done for my

father would be done, for these men had gone to "warn the waters," or,

in other words, to carry the tidings far and wide, and bid all the men

of the Western Border be ready to meet their chief at some given

trysting-place, and ride with him to the rescue.



Meanwhile the Warden lifted me on his knee, and began asking me

questions, while the pages gathered round, no longer jeering, but with

wide-open eyes.



"Thou art a brave lad," he said at last, after I had told him the whole

story, "and, with thy father's permission, I would fain have thee for

one of my pages. We must tell him how well thou hast carried the

message, and ask him if he can spare thee for a year or two."



At any other time my heart would have leapt at this unheard-of good

fortune, for to be a page in the Warden's household was the ambition of

every well-born lad on the Border; but at that moment I felt as if

Buccleuch hardly realised my father's danger.



"But he is lodged in Carlisle Castle, and men say the walls are thick,"

I said anxiously, "and it is garrisoned by my Lord Scroope's soldiers."



The Warden laughed.



"We will teach my Lord Scroope that there is no bird's nest that the

Bold Buccleuch dare not harry," he said, and, seeing the look on his

face, I was content.



Then, noticing how weary I was, he called one of the older pages, and

bade him see that I had food and rest, and the boy, who had been one of

the first to laugh before, but who now treated me with great respect,

took me away to a little turret room which he shared with some of his

fellows, and brought me a piece of venison pie, and then left me to go

to sleep on his low pallet, promising to wake me when there were signs

of the Warden and his men setting out.



I must have slept the whole day, for the little room was almost dark

again, and the rain was beating wildly on the casement, when the boy

came back. "My lord hath given orders for the horses to be saddled," he

said, "and the trysting-place is Woodhouselee. I heard one squire tell

another in the hall, for as a rule we pages know nothing, and are only

expected to do as we are bid. I know not if my lord means thee to ride

with him, but I was sent up to fetch thee."



It did not take me long to spring up and fasten my doublet, and follow

my guide down to the great hall. Here all was bustle and confusion; men

were standing about ready armed, making a hasty meal at the long table,

which never seemed to be empty of its load of food, while outside in the

courtyard some fifty or sixty horses were standing, ready saddled, with

bags of fodder thrown over their necks.



Every few minutes a handful of men would ride up in the dusk, and,

leaving their rough mountain ponies outside, would stride into the hall,

and begin to eat as hard as they could, exchanging greetings between the

mouthfuls. These were men from the neighbourhood, my friend informed me,

mostly kinsmen of Buccleuch, and lairds in their own right, who had

ridden to Branksome with their men to start with their chief.



There was Scott of Harden, and Scott of Goldilands, Scott of Commonside,

and Scott of Allanhaugh, and many more whom I do not now remember, and

they drank their ale, and laughed and joked, as if they were riding to a

wedding, instead of on an errand which might cost them their lives.



Buccleuch himself was in the midst of them, booted and spurred, and

presently his eye fell on me.



"Ha! my young cocksparrow," he cried. "Wilt ride with us to greet thy

father, or are thy bones too weary? Small shame 'twould be to thee if

they were."



"Oh, if it please thee, sire, let me ride," I said; "I am not too weary,

if my pony is not," at which reply everyone laughed.



"I hear thy pony can scarce hirple on three legs," answered my lord,

clapping me on my shoulder, "but I like a lad of spirit, and go thou

shalt. Here, Red Rowan, take him up in front of thee, and see that a

horse be led for Kinmont to ride home on."



I was about to protest that I was not a bairn to ride in front of any

man, but Buccleuch turned away as if the matter were settled, and the

big trooper who came up and took me in charge persuaded me to do as I

was bid. "'Tis a dark night, laddie, and we ride fast," he said, "and my

lord would be angered didst thou lose thy way, or fall behind," and

although my pride was nettled at first, I was soon fain to confess that

he was right, for the horses swung out into the wind and rain, and took

to the hills at a steady trot, keeping together in the darkness in a way

that astonished me. Red Rowan had a plaid on his shoulders which he

twisted round me, and which sheltered me a little from the driving rain,

and I think I must have dozed at intervals, for it seemed no time until

we were over the hills, and down at Woodhouselee in Canonbie, where a

great band of men were waiting for us, who had gathered from Liddesdale

and Hermitage Water.



With scarcely a word they joined our ranks, and we rode silently and

swiftly on, across the Esk, and the Graeme's country, until we reached

the banks of the Eden.



Here we came to a standstill, for the river was so swollen with the

recent rains that it seemed madness for any man to venture into the

rushing torrent; but men who had ridden so far, and on such an errand,

were not to be easily daunted.



"This way, lads, and keep your horses' heads to the stream," shouted a

voice, and with a scramble we were down the bank, and the nags were

swimming for dear life. I confess now, that at that moment I thought my

last hour had come, for the swirling water was within an inch of my

toes, and I clung to Red Rowan's coat with all the strength I had, and

shut my eyes, and tried to think of my prayers. But it was soon over,

and on the other side we waited a minute to see if any man were missing.

Everyone was safe, however, and on we went till we were close on

Carlisle, and could see the lights of the Castle rising up above the

city wall.



Then Buccleuch called a halt, and everyone dismounted, and some forty

men, throwing their bridle reins to their comrades, stepped to the

front. Red Rowan was one of them, and I kept close to his side.



Everything must have been arranged beforehand, for not a word was

spoken, but by the light of a single torch the little band arranged

themselves in order, while I watched with wide-open eyes. They were not

all armed, but they all had their hands full.



In the very front were ten men carrying hunting-horns and bugles; then

came ten carrying three or four long ladders, which must have been

brought with us on ponies' backs. Then came other ten, armed with great

iron bars and forehammers; and only the last ten, among whom was the

Warden himself and Red Rowan, were prepared as if for fighting.



At the word of command they set out, with long steady strides, and as no

one noticed me, I went too, running all the time in order to keep up

with them.



The Castle stood to the north side of the little city, close to the city

wall, and the courtyard lay just below it. We stole up like cats in the

darkness, fearful lest someone might hear us and give the alarm.

Everyone seemed to be asleep, however, or else the roaring of the wind

deadened the noise of our footsteps. In any case we reached the wall in

safety, and as we stood at the bottom of it waiting till the men tied

the ladders together, we could hear the sentries in the courtyard

challenge as they went their rounds.



At last the ladders were ready, and Buccleuch gave his whispered orders

before they were raised.



No man was to be killed, he said, if it could possibly be helped, as the

two countries were at peace with each other, and he had no mind to stir

up strife. All he wanted was the rescue of my father.



Then the ladders were raised, and bitter was the disappointment when it

was found that they were too short. For a moment it seemed as if we had

come all the weary way for nothing.



"It matters not, lads," said the Warden cheerily; "there be more ways of

robbing a corbie's nest than one. Bide you here by the little postern,

and Wat Scott and Red Rowan and I will prowl round, and see what we can

see."



Along with these two stalwart men he vanished, while we crouched at the

foot of the wall and waited; nor had we long to wait.



In ten minutes we could hear the bolts and bars being withdrawn, and the

little door was opened by Buccleuch himself, who wore a triumphant

smile. He had found a loophole at the back of the Castle left entirely

unguarded, and without much difficulty he and his two companions had

forced out a stone or two, until the hole was large enough for them to

squeeze through, and had caught and bound the unsuspecting sentries as

they came round, stuffing their mouths full of old clouts to hinder them

from crying out and giving the alarm.



Once we were inside the courtyard he ordered the men with the iron bars

and forehammers to be ready to beat open the doors, and then he gave the

word to the men with the bugles and hunting horns.



Then began such a din as I had never heard before, and have never heard

since. The bugles screeched, and the iron bars rang, and above all

sounded the wild Border slogan, "Wha dare meddle wi' me?" which the men

shouted with all their might. One would have thought that the whole men

in Scotland were about the walls, instead of but forty.



And in good faith the people of the Castle, cowards that they were, and

even my Lord Scroope himself, thought that they were beset by a whole

army, and after one or two frightened peeps from out of windows, and

behind doors, they shut themselves up as best they might in their own

quarters, and left us to work our will, and beat down door after door

until we came to the very innermost prison itself, where my father was

chained hand and foot to the wall like any dog.



Just as the door was being burst open, my lord caught sight of me as I

squeezed along the passage, anxious to see all that could be seen. He

laid his hand on the men's shoulders and held them back.



"Let the bairn go first," he said; "it is his right, for he has saved

him."



Then I darted across the cell, and stood at my father's side. What he

said to me I never knew, only I saw that strange look once more on his

face, and his eyes were very bright. Had he been a bairn or a woman I

should have said he was like to weep. It was past in a moment, for there

was little time to lose. At any instant the garrison might find out how

few in numbers we were, and sally out to cut us off, so no time was

wasted in trying to strike his chains off him.



With an iron bar Red Rowan wrenched the ring to which he was fastened,

out of the wall, and, raising him on his back, carried him bodily down

the narrow staircase, and out through the courtyard.



As we passed under my Lord Scroope's casement, my father, putting all

his strength into his voice, called out a lusty "good night" to his

lordship, which was echoed by the men with peals of laughter.



Then we hurried on to where the main body of troopers were waiting with

the horses, and I warrant the shout that they raised when they saw us

coming with my father in the midst of us, riding on Red Rowan's

shoulder, might almost have been heard at Branksome itself.



When it died away we heard another sound which warned us that the

laggards at the Castle had gathered their feeble courage, and were

calling on the burghers of Carlisle to come to their aid, for every bell

in the city was ringing, and we could see the flash of torches here and

there.



Scarcely had the smiths struck the last fetter from my father's limbs

than we heard the thunder of horses' hoofs behind us.



"To horse, lads," cried Buccleuch, and in another moment we were

galloping towards the Eden, I in front of Red Rowan as before, and close

to my father's side.



The English knew the lie of the land better than we did, for they were

at the river before us, well-nigh a thousand of them, with Lord Scroope

himself at their head. Apparently they never dreamed that we would

attempt to swim the torrent, and thought we would have to show fight,

for they were drawn up as if for a battle; but we dashed past them with

a yell of defiance, and plunged into the flooded river, and once more we

came safe to the other side. Once there we faced round, but the English

made no attempt to follow; they sat on their horses, glowering at us in

the dim light of the breaking day, but they said never a word.



Then my Lord of Buccleuch raised himself in his stirrups, and, plucking

off his right glove, he flung it with all his might across the river,

and, the wind catching it, it was blown right into their leader's face.

"Take that, my Lord of Scroope," he cried; "mayhap 'twill cure thee of

thy treachery, for if Sakelde took him, 'twas thou who harboured him,

and if thou likest not my mode of visiting at thy Castle of Carlisle,

thou canst call and lodge thy complaint at Branksome at thy leisure."



Then, with a laugh, he turned his horse's head and led us homewards, as

the sun was rising and the world was waking up to another day.