he band, while some of the elders were
youths approaching man's estate. Even to his mother Archie did not
breathe a word of what he was doing, for he feared that she might
forbid his proceedings. The good lady was often surprised at the
cuts and bruises with which he returned home; but he always turned
off her questions by muttering something about rough play or a
heavy fall, and so for some months the existence of the Scottish
Avengers remained unsuspected.

Chapter II

Leaving Home

One day when "the Avengers" were engaged in mimic battle in a glen
some two miles from the village they were startled with a loud
shout of "How now, what is this uproar?" Bows were lowered and
hedge stakes dropped; on the hillside stood Red Roy, the henchman
of Sir John Kerr, with another of the retainers. They had been
crossing the hills, and had been attracted by the sound of shouting.
All the lads were aware of the necessity for Archie's avoiding the
notice of the Kerrs, and Andrew Macpherson, one of the eldest of
the lads, at once stepped forward: "We are playing," he said, "at
fighting Picts against Scots."

This was the case, for the English were so hated that Archie had
found that none would even in sport take that name, and the sides
were accordingly dubbed Scots and Picts, the latter title not being
so repugnant, and the companies changing sides each day.

"It looks as if you were fighting in earnest," Roy said grimly,
"for the blood is streaming down your face."

"Oh, we don't mind a hard knock now and again," Andrew said
carelessly. "I suppose, one of these days, we shall have to go out
under Sir John's banner, and the more hard knocks we have now, the
less we shall care for them then."

"That is so," Roy said; "and some of you will soon be able to handle
arms in earnest. Who are your leaders?" he asked sharply, as his
eye fixed on Archie, who had seated himself carelessly upon a rock
at some little distance.

"William Orr generally heads one side, and I the other."

"And what does that young Forbes do?" Red Roy asked.

"Well, he generally looks on," Andrew replied in a confidential
tone; "he is not much good with the bow, and his lady mother does
not like it if he goes home with a crack across the face, and I
don't think he likes it himself; he is but a poor creature when it
comes to a tussle."

"And it is well for him that he is," Red Roy muttered to himself;
"for if he had been likely to turn out a lad