r
provost. He was a grandson of the Red Rover, Tom of Longueville, and
a likely man to keep his word, which he addressed to me in especial,
because a night of much discomfort may have made me look paler than
usual; and, besides, I was but a lad."

"And did his exhortation add to your fear or your resolution?" said
Eachin, who seemed very attentive.

"To my resolution," answered Simon; "for I think nothing can make a
man so bold to face one danger at some distance in his front as the
knowledge of another close behind him, to push him forward. Well, I
mounted the walls in tolerable heart, and was placed with others on the
Spey Tower, being accounted a good bowman. But a very cold fit seized me
as I saw the English, in great order, with their archers in front,
and their men at arms behind, marching forward to the attack in strong
columns, three in number. They came on steadily, and some of us would
fain have shot at them; but it was strictly forbidden, and we were
obliged to remain motionless, sheltering ourselves behind the battlement
as we best might. As the Southron formed their long ranks into lines,
each man occupying his place as by magic, and preparing to cover
themselves by large shields, called pavesses, which they planted before
them, I again felt a strange breathlessness, and some desire to go home
for a glass of distilled waters. But as I looked aside, I saw the worthy
Kempe of Kinfauns bending a large crossbow, and I thought it pity he
should waste the bolt on a true hearted Scotsman, when so many English
were in presence; so I e'en staid where I was, being in a comfortable
angle, formed by two battlements. The English then strode forward, and
drew their bowstrings--not to the breast, as your Highland kerne do, but
to the ear--and sent off their volleys of swallow tails before we could
call on St. Andrew. I winked when I saw them haul up their tackle, and I
believe I started as the shafts began to rattle against the parapet.
But looking round me, and seeing none hurt but John Squallit, the town
crier, whose jaws were pierced through with a cloth yard shaft, I took
heart of grace, and shot in my turn with good will and good aim. A
little man I shot at, who had just peeped out from behind his target,
dropt with a shaft through his shoulder. The provost cried, 'Well
stitched, Simon Glover!' 'St. John, for his own town, my fellow
craftsmen!' shouted I, though I was then but an apprentice. And if you
will believe