t as ever did Sir Robert, and roaring for the bailie and the
baron-officer.

Away rode my gudesire to his chief creditor (him they caa'd Laurie
Lapraik), to try if he could make ony thing out of him; but when he
tauld his story, he got but the warst word in his wame--thief, beggar,
and dyvour, were the saftest terms; and to the boot of these hard terms,
Laurie brought up the auld story of his dipping his hand in the blood of
God's saunts, just as if a tenant could have helped riding with the
Laird, and that a laird like Sir Robert Redgauntlet. My gudesire was, by
this time, far beyond the bounds of patience, and, while he and Laurie
were at deil speed the liars, he was wanchancie aneugh to abuse
Lapraik's doctrine as weel as the man, and said things that garr'd
folk's flesh grue that heard them;--he wasna just himsell, and he had
lived wi' a wild set in his day.

At last they parted, and my gudesire was to ride hame through the wood
of Pitmurkie, that is a' fou of black firs, as they say.--I ken the
wood, but the firs may be black or white for what I can tell.--At the
entry of the wood there is a wild common, and on the edge of the common,
a little lonely change-house, that was keepit then by an ostler-wife,
they suld hae caa'd her Tibbie Faw, and there puir Steenie cried for a
mutchkin of brandy, for he had had no refreshment the haill day. Tibbie
was earnest wi' him to take a bite of meat, but he couldna think o't,
nor would he take his foot out of the stirrup, and took off the brandy
wholely at twa draughts, and named a toast at each:--the first was, the
memory of Sir Robert Redgauntlet, and might he never lie quiet in his
grave till he had righted his poor bond-tenant; and the second was, a
health to Man's Enemy, if he would but get him back the pock of siller,
or tell him what came o't, for he saw the haill world was like to regard
him as a thief and a cheat, and he took that waur than even the ruin of
his house and hauld.

On he rode, little caring where. It was a dark night turned, and the
trees made it yet darker, and he let the beast take its ain road through
the wood; when, all of a sudden, from tired and wearied that it was
before, the nag began to spring, and flee, and stend, that my gudesire
could hardly keep the saddle.--Upon the whilk, a horseman, suddenly
riding up beside him, said, "That's a mettle beast of yours, freend;
will you sell him?"--So saying, he touched the horse's neck with his
riding-wan