as riding stoutly by our side. We were to
travel by Dumfries and Lockerbie into Eskdale, whither Claverhouse had
preceded us, obeying an urgent call from his acquaintance, Sir James
Johnstone of Westerhall, who was still more eager to do the King's will
than he--though, to begin with, he had been a Covenant man, and that of
some mark too. But the fear of fines, and the bad example of his
neighbours ever before his eyes, had brought out the hidden cruelty of
the man. So now he rode at Claverhouse's bridle-rein, and the pair of
them held black counsel on the state of the country. But the mood of
Claverhouse was, at worst, only that of military severity, without heart
of ruth or bowels of mercy indeed; but that of Westerhall was rather of
roystering and jubilant brutality, both of action and intent.

So we rode and we better rode till we came to Eskdale, where we found
Westerhall in his own country. Now I could see by the behaviour of the
soldiers as we went, that some of them had small good will to the kind
of life they led, for many of them were of the country-side and, as it
seemed, were compelled to drive and harry their own kith and kin. This
they covered with a mighty affectation of ease, crying oaths and curses
hither and thither tempestuously behind their leaders--save only when
John Graham rode near by, a thing which more than anything made them
hold their peace, lest for discipline's sake he should bid them be
silent, with a look that would chill their marrows.

CHAPTER IX.

THROUGH DEATH'S DARK VALE.

Now this Eskdale was the Johnstone's own country, and one in which I was
noways at home--a country of wide green holms and deep blind "hopes" or
hollows among the mountains, where the cloud shadows bide and linger,
and whence they come out again to scud swiftly over the hips of the
hills. I had been trained to be pleasant and prudent in my conversation,
and there was little to take me out of myself in the company I had
perforce to keep. Yet I dared not withdraw myself from their train, lest
the jealousy of our band, which was latent among the more scurril of
them, should break out. So I rode mostly silent, but with a pleased
countenance which belied my heart.

Indeed, had it not been for the good liking which everywhere pursued my
cousin Lochinvar, I cannot tell what might have come out of the dislike
for us "Glenkens Whiggies," which was their mildest word for us. Yet my
man Hugh never said a word, fo