s only a false alarm, however, being the warning of the clock;
and, in a minute or two thereafter, the bell struck ten. Oh, but it was
a lonesome and dreary sound! Every chap went through my breast like the
dunt of a fore-hammer.

Then up and spak the red-headed laddie:--"It's no fair; anither should
hae come by this time. I wad rin awa hame, only I am frighted to gang
out my lane.--Do ye think the doup of that candle wad carry i' my cap?"

"Na, na, lad; we maun bide here, as we are here now.--Leave me alane?
Lord save us! and the yett lockit, and the bethrel sleeping with the key
in his breek pouches!--We canna win out now though we would," answered I,
trying to look brave, though half frightened out of my seven
senses:--"Sit down, sit down; I've baith whisky and porter wi' me. Hae,
man, there's a cawker to keep your heart warm; and set down that bottle,"
quoth I, wiping the saw-dust affn't with my hand, "to get a toast; I'se
warrant it for Deacon Jaffrey's best brown stout."

[Picture: Rev. Mr Wiggie]

The wind blew higher, and like a hurricane; the rain began to fall in
perfect spouts; the auld kirk rumbled and rowed, and made a sad soughing;
and the branches of the bourtree behind the house, where auld Cockburn
that cut his throat was burned, creaked and crazed in a frightful manner;
but as to the roaring of the troubled waters, and the bumming in the
lum-head, they were past all power of description. To make bad worse,
just in the heart of the brattle, the grating sound of the yett turning
on its rusty hinges was but too plainly heard. What was to be done? I
thought of our both running away; and then of our locking ourselves in,
and firing through the door; but who was to pull the trigger?

Gudeness watch over us! I tremble yet when I think on it. We were
perfectly between the de'il and the deep sea--either to stand still and
fire our gun, or run and be shot at. It was really a hang choice. As I
stood swithering and shaking, the laddie flew to the door, and, thrawing
round the key, clapped his back to it. Oh! how I looked at him, as he
stood for a gliff, like a magpie hearkening with his lug cocked up, or
rather like a terrier watching a rotten. "They're coming! they're
coming!" he cried out; "cock the piece, ye sumph;" while the red hair
rose up from his pow like feathers; "they're coming, I hear them tramping
on the gravel." Out he stretched his arms against the wall, and