to be free of your bondage. For the space of a year and
a day you shall remain upon Sir Oscar Redmain's lands as his paid
servant, but not as his thrall, and at the end of that time the Abbot of
St. Blane's shall give you in marriage to the brave man who will then
claim you, and you shall be that man's lawful wedded wife."

Then, when Duncan Graham led the maid away, Kenric asked if there yet
remained any man there present who had any claim to make, or grievance
to be redressed; at which David Blair, a rich farmer of Scalpsie, called
for judgment upon one who had done him a wrong.

"What is your suit?" asked the king.

"It is," said the farmer, "that, ten days since, my watchdog was cruelly
slain. He was the best watchdog in all Bute, and never dared beast of
prey or man of stealth come near my homestead but to his hurt. But,
since my dog has been slain, three gimmer sheep, and two ewe lambs, and
four young goats have been carried off by the wolves. And my good wife
Marjory has lost seven of her best chickens, that have been taken by the
foxes."

"Who is the man that so cruelly slew your dog?" asked Kenric.

"It was young Allan Redmain of Kilmory, and him do I charge," said the
farmer.

"Allan Redmain!" exclaimed Kenric, in alarm at the thought of sitting in
judgment upon his own friend.

Then he stirred uneasily in his seat, and bit his lips in trying to see
a way of escape out of his difficulty. He had sworn lasting friendship
for Allan, and remembering the adventure of the day before, when Allan
had risked his life for him, he could not bear the thought of giving
sentence of punishment if it should be proved that Allan was guilty.
Thrown thus betwixt friendship and duty, he sat for many moments in
silent thought, wishing that he was no longer a king who had bound
himself to do justice to all men. But at last he called aloud for Allan
Redmain, and Allan promptly appeared, albeit with lowered head and
guilty looks.

"Now, David Blair," said Kenric with tremulous voice, "repeat your
accusation, and woe betide you if in malice you say aught but the holy
truth."

"My lord!" said the farmer in surprise. "Am I then to be doubted? And is
my word less to be trusted than that of any other honest man of Bute? I
repeat that it was Allan Redmain who slew my dog out of mere boyish sport."

Allan looked at his accuser with frowning brows.

"Allan Redmain, are you guilty or innocent of this offence?" asked the
young j