nal at which the burghers were wont to collect, he rushed
on the night walkers, one of whom was in the act of ascending the
ladder. The smith seized it by the rounds, threw it down on the
pavement, and placing his foot on the body of the man who had been
mounting, prevented him from regaining his feet. His accomplices struck
fiercely at Henry, to extricate their companion. But his mail coat stood
him in good stead, and he repaid their blows with interest, shouting
aloud, "Help--help, for bonny St. Johnston! Bows and blades, brave
citizens! bows and blades! they break into our houses under cloud of
night."

These words, which resounded far through the streets, were accompanied
by as many fierce blows, dealt with good effect among those whom the
armourer assailed. In the mean time, the inhabitants of the district
began to awaken and appear on the street in their shirts, with
swords and targets, and some of them with torches. The assailants now
endeavoured to make their escape, which all of them effected excepting
the man who had been thrown down along with the ladder. Him the intrepid
armourer had caught by the throat in the scuffle, and held as fast as
the greyhound holds the hare. The other wounded men were borne off by
their comrades.

"Here are a sort of knaves breaking peace within burgh," said Henry
to the neighbours who began to assemble; "make after the rogues. They
cannot all get off, for I have maimed some of them: the blood will guide
you to them."

"Some Highland caterans," said the citizens; "up and chase, neighbours!"

"Ay, chase--chase! leave me to manage this fellow," continued the
armourer.

The assistants dispersed in different directions, their lights flashing
and their cries resounding through the whole adjacent district.

In the mean time the armourer's captive entreated for freedom, using
both promises and threats to obtain it. "As thou art a gentleman," he
said, "let me go, and what is past shall be forgiven."

"I am no gentleman," said Henry--"I am Hal of the Wynd, a burgess of
Perth; and I have done nothing to need forgiveness."

"Villain, then hast done thou knowest not what! But let me go, and I
will fill thy bonnet with gold pieces."

"I shall fill thy bonnet with a cloven head presently," said the
armourer, "unless thou stand still as a true prisoner."

"What is the matter, my son Harry?" said Simon, who now appeared at the
window. "I hear thy voice in another tone than I expected.