elling of the kye coming home at e'en, "my father clave him to the
teeth, and he fell forward on that which had been his face. Then
plucking his sword to him again, my father swung it hither and thither
like lightning, and pursued them over the moor as a flock of sheep is
hunted on the hill. And he smote and slew them as he ran. My father,
Anthony Lennox, did all that alone. But, alas! in the valley, though we
knew it not, there was a troop of horse encamped about a fire, the same
whom he of the Long Gun halted and took us from in the midst of
Enterkin. Now my father, running and smiting blindly, tripped over a
halter and fell headlong in the heart of them. Thus they took Anton
Lennox, who had never been taken before. They took us two maids also;
but the dragoons being officered by gentlemen, there was no more
ill-usage. Now though he had killed the informers and spies, the
soldiers liked my father none the less for that, despising those who
were employed on such service. Rather they gave my father honour and not
dishonour, as one that was mighty at their own trade. And to me the
babe-faced officer was both kind and courteous."

After this she was silent quite a while, sitting by me on the mossy seat
by the old playing-green of the Nether Crae, and looking up as one that
dreams, to the heather on the hillside.

"Is it not a noble thing," she said musingly, "to have a father that
will render up his life for you as if it were a little thing?"

Now I thought within myself that he need not have given it also for a
peony-faced officer boy. But I uttered not the word aloud, lest I should
be shamed.

CHAPTER L.

THE BREAKING OF THE THIEVES' HOLE.

So on the morrow, early in the morning, we fared on into the hills; and
when we came to Tonskeen in the wilds, we found my mother and Kate
there. They were both well in health and glad to greet us, though my
mother was doleful because of the news of Sandy's taking, which had just
been brought to her. Yet all of us did our best endeavours to be
cheerful, as was the custom in Galloway at that time, when there was
hardly a family that had not some cause of mourning and sorrow. Though I
do think that there was not one so deep in the mire as our unfortunate
house of Earlstoun.

At Tonskeen also we found Thomas Wilson, brother of our sweet little
Margaret. He brought us sad news of her. She had been separated from
Maisie and her father after the capture, and taken to Wigtow