et his comrades in. The leader of the party was Tam, who had implored
the general of the king's forces, whom fortunately they had met on the
way to the rendezvous, to be allowed to return, if only for a few hours,
to share his young laird's peril. The request had been granted, and
with fifteen men the delighted Tam had spurred back to Singleton as fast
as their horses could carry them. Falling unexpectedly on the enemy's
rear they had brought about the panic which saved the castle and rescued
the young chief from his perilous position.

This was the first but by no means the last fight in which the young
laird of Singleton bore a part. He grew old in warfare, and ended his
days at last on the field of battle. But to the day of his death this
memorable Night-Watch on Singleton Towers was ever the achievement about
which he liked best to be reminded.

CHAPTER NINE.

RUN TO EARTH.

Sub-Chapter I.

ON THE TRAIL.

Michael McCrane had bolted!

There was not a shadow of a doubt about it. The moment I reached the
bank that eventful morning and saw the manager's desk open, and the tin
cash-box lying empty on the floor, I said at once to myself, "This is
McCrane's doing."

And as I and the messenger stood there, with dropped jaws, gaping at the
dismal scene, I hurriedly called up in my mind the incidents of the past
week, and, reading them in the light of this discovery, I was ready to
stake my reputation as a paying cashier that my fellow-clerk was a
robber and a fugitive.

McCrane had not been at our bank long; he had come to us from one of the
country branches, and, much to the disgust of some of us juniors, had
been placed over our heads as second paying cashier. I was third paying
cashier, and from the moment I set eyes on my new colleague and superior
I felt that mischief was in the wind.

A mysterious, silent man of twenty-six was Michael McCrane; so silent
was he, indeed, that were it not for an occasional "How will you take
it?"

"Not endorsed."

"Next desk," ejaculated in the course of his daily duties, any one might
have supposed him dumb. He held himself gloomily aloof from his fellow-
clerks. None of us knew where he lived, or how he lived. It was an
event to get a word out of him; wherever it was possible he answered by
signs or grimaces. He glided into his place in the morning like a
ghost, and like a ghost he glided out at night and vanished.

More than that, his personal appearanc