an' liquor--mair like a haggis nor a human face
ava.

'There was a wumman beside him--dootless his whure, that had ridden oot
frae Jedburgh to be wi' him--nestlin' in at his side like a ewe till her
ram i' the autumn; not that he was takin' muckle thocht o' her,
though--an' then he cries oot loud:

'"'Tis a moonlicht nicht, my Lord Claverhouse," he cries; "we'll hunt
oor quarry ower muir an' fell, an' aiblins hae mair luck than we had i'
the day; we'll run the auld brock to ground before dawn, I'll hand ye a
handfu' o' Jacobuses."

'"I'll hand ye," replied Claverhouse, wi' a smile on his bonny, sad
face,

"_Ye'll tak the high road an' I'll tak the low road,_
_An' I'll be in North Tyne afore ye._

"So up an' tak wing, my grey-lag goose," he says, "an' wing your way
straight to the North Tyne water."

'"Then here's a last toast," cries Lag, holdin' up his bicker fu' o'
wine.

'Noo, what think ye was his toast?' my companion broke off to inquire of
me with eye agleam.

I shook my head, and laid hold of my saddle to remount, for the eerie
communication, the loneliness of the spot, and the isolation of the
drifting snowflakes had all combined to give me a 'scunner.'

'It was their ain damnation,' my companion whispered in my ear; 'he was
proposin' the murder o' the Saints o' God--juist the "sin against the
Holy Ghaist"--that was his fearsome health.'

I had climbed into my saddle, and at that moment an unseen plover wailed
through the mist.

'Hark!' cried my companion, lifting a finger.

'Hark to his soul i' torment!'

My mare took fright, and made a great spring forward; I let her go, for
I was 'gliffed' myself, and right glad was I to reach the road made by
human hands that led homeward, for I feared if I stayed on that I too
might meet the wraiths of Claverhouse and Lag hunting the moorlands for
blessed Master Peden.

[Footnote 1: Peden, the Covenanter, was undoubtedly on the Border in the
'killing times,' and is said to have escaped from the hunters when
preaching on Peden Pike by intervention of a mist, but as in old maps
this rounded hill west of Otterburn is spelt Paden, the derivation seems
doubtful. Peden's Cleuch on the north side of Carter seems undoubtedly
to have been his refuge.]

'ILL-STEEKIT' EPHRAIM

'About the middle of the night
The cocks began to craw:
And at the dead hour o' the night
The corpse began to thraw.'

_Ballad of Young Benjie._

W