ags, he shot off his pistol, and turned to run. But his
women caught hold of him by the flying white robe, thinking that he was
about to soar upward out of their sight.

"'Let me be,' he cried, with a great sailor oath; and tearing away from
them, he left half the linen cloth in their hands, and betook him to his
heels.

"Anton Lennox went after him hot foot, and there they had it, like
coursing dogs, upon the level moor. It was noble sport. I laughed till
David Jamie was nearly choked in the moss with me rocking to and fro
upon him. Anton Lennox was twice the age of John Gib, but Muckle John
being a sailor man, accustomed only to the short deck, and also having
his running gear out of order by his manner of life, did exceedingly
pant and blow. Yet for a time he managed to keep ahead of his pursuer.
But there was no ultimate city of refuge for him.

"Anton Lennox followed after him a little stiffly, with a grim
determined countenance; and as he ran I saw him shorten his cudgel of
crabtree in his hand. Presently he came up with the muckle man of
Borrowstounness. The great stick whistled through the air, soughing like
a willow-wand. Once, twice, thrice--it rose and fell.

"And the sound that ensued was like the beating of a sack of meal.

"'I'll learn you to burn the Bible!' cried Anton, as he still followed.
His arm rose and fell steadily while John Gib continued to run as if the
dogs were after him. The great hulk cried out with the intolerable pain
of the blows.

"'I'll mak' ye Sweet Singers a', by my faith! I'll score ilka point o'
your paper screed on your back, my man--Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Pasch,
Beltan, and Yule!'

"At the Yule stroke John Gib fell into a moss-hole. We could not easily
see what followed then. But the grievous cudgel steadfastly rose and
fell like the flail of a man that threshes corn in a barn, and a howling
and roaring that was aught but sweet singing came to us over the moor.

"Presently Anton returned, striding back to where I sat upon David Jamie
his back.

"'Rise!' he said. And that was all he said.

"But he took his foot and turned the bit clerk over, pulling him out of
the moss with a _cloop_ like the cork being drawn out of a brisk bottle
of small ale.

"'David, lad, do ye renounce John Gib and all his ways?'

"The limber-limbed student looked doubtful, but the sight of the cudgel
and the distant sound of the sweet singing of Muckle John decided him.

"'Ay,' he said. 'I