upon the throat of that arch-fanatic, Anthony
Lennox of the Duchrae, and also upon Sandy Gordon of Earlstoun, his
younger brother William, Maclellan of Barscobe, and some others. It will
be a great taking, for there is a long price on every head of them."

"Think you, John," said Balmaghie, shrewdly, "that you will add
Earlstoun and Barscobe to your new lands of Freuch?"

"Nay," said Clavers, "that is past hoping. They will give them to their
English colonels, Oglethorpe and the like. Aye, even though, at my own
request, I had the promise from the Council of the estates of any that I
should find cause of forfeiture against, a thing which is only my due.
But as by this time you may know, a plain soldier hath small chance
among the wiles of the courtiers."

"I question, John, if thou hadst all Galloway and Nidsdale to boot, thou
wouldst be happy, even with the fairest maid therein, for one short
week. Thou wouldst be longing to have Boscobel out, saddled and bridled,
and be off to the Whig-hunting with a 'Ho-Tally-Ho!' For that is thy
way, John!"

Claverhouse laughed a little stern laugh like a man that is forced to
laugh at himself, yet is somedeal proud of what he hears.

"It is true," he said. "There is no hunting like this hunting of men,
which the King's service sees in these days. It makes it worth living to
keep the crown of the moorland with one's company of dragoons, like a
man hefting lambs on a sheep farm; and know that no den, no knowe, no
moss, no hill has been left unsearched for the King's rebels."

"And how speeds the wooing, John?" I heard Balmaghie say after a little
pause, and the opening of another bottle.

For I thought it no shame to listen, since the lives of all that were
dear to me, as well as my own, were in this man's power. And, besides, I
knew very well that Kate McGhie had put me in this place, that I might
gain good intelligence of the intentions of the great captain of the
man-hunters.

Clavers sat awhile silent. He looked long and scrupulously at his fine
white hand and fingered the lace ruffle upon his sleeve.

"It was of that mainly that I came to speak to you, Roger. Truth to
tell, it does not prosper to my mind."

"Hath the fair Jean proved unkind?" said Roger McGhie, looking over at
Claverhouse, with a quiet smile in his eye.

John Graham leaned back in his chair with a quick amused look and threw
back his clustering love locks.

"No," he said; "there is, I think, littl