u bleeding here! Na, na; I
maun see you safely bestowed first before I meet with ony other. I'm the
Douglas's man, no the Stewart's.'

'Then will I after them!' cried George of Angus, starting up; but he
staggered and had to catch at Ringan.

There was no water near; nothing to refresh or revive him had been left.
Ringan looked about in anxiety and distress on the desolate scene--bare
heath on one side, thicket, gradually rising into forest and mountain,
on the other. Suddenly he gave a long whistle, and to his great joy
there was a crackling among the bushes and he beheld the shaggy-faced
pony on which he had ridden all the way from Yorkshire, and which had
no doubt eluded the robbers. There was a bundle at the saddle-bow, and
after a little coquetting the pony allowed itself to be caught, and
a leathern bottle was produced from the bag, containing something
exceedingly sour, but with an amount of strength in it which did
something towards reviving the Master.

'I can sit the pony,' he said; 'let us after them.'

'Nae sic fulery,' said Ringan. 'I ken better what sorts a green wound
like yours, sir! Sit the pony ye may, but to be safely bestowed, ere I
stir a foot after the leddies.'

George broke out into fierce language and angry commands, none of which
Ringan heeded in the least.

'Hist:' he cried, 'there's some one on the road. Come into shelter,
sir.'

He was half dragging, half supporting his master to the concealment
of the bushes, when he perceived that the new-comers were two friars,
cowled, black gowned, corded, and barefooted.

'There will be help in them,' he muttered, placing his master with his
back against a tree; for the late contention had produced such fresh
exhaustion that it was plain the wounds were more serious than he had
thought at first.

The two friars, men with homely, weather-beaten, but simple good faces,
came up, startled at seeing a wounded man on the way-side, and ready to
proffer assistance.

Need like George Douglas's was of all languages, and besides, Ringan
had, among the exigencies of the journey, picked up something by which
he could make himself moderately well understood. The brethren stooped
over the wounded man and examined his wounds. One of them produced some
oil from a flask in his wallet, and though poor George's own shirt was
the only linen available, they contrived to bandage both hurts far more
effectually than Ringan could.

They asked whether this was the