en with all the friends who would muster round him, the
men of Plora, and Traquair, and Ashiestiel, and Hollowlee, Harden's
force would far outnumber his, and his only hope lay in outwitting the
enemy, who were better known for their bravery than for their guile.

So when all his friends were assembled, instead of stationing them near
the castle, he led them out to a steep hill-side, some miles away, where
he knew the Scotts must pass with the cattle, on their way to Oakwood.
As the night was dark, he bade each of them fasten a white feather in
his cap, so that, when they were fighting, they would know who were
their friends and who their foes, and he would not allow them to stand
about on the hill-side, but made them lie down hidden in the heather
until he gave them the signal to rise.

He knew well what he was doing, for he was as cunning as a fox, and
neither the Knight of Harden nor the Wild Boar of Fauldshope, brave
though they were, were a match for him.

They, on their part, thought things were going splendidly, for when they
rode up in the darkness of midnight to the Elibank haughs, all was
quiet; not so much as a dog barked. It was not difficult to collect a
goodly drove of fat cattle, and, as long as the animals were driven
along a familiar path, all went well. But all the world knows the saying
about "a cow in an unca loaning,"[8] and it held good in this case. The
moment the animals' heads were turned to the hills that lay between
Elibank and Oakwood the trouble began. They broke in confusion, and ran
hither and thither in the darkness, lowing and crying in great
bewilderment.

[Footnote 8: A cow in a strange lane or milking-place.]

"Faith, but this will never do," exclaimed Will of Fauldshope; "if the
beasts bellow at this rate, they will awaken old Sir Juden and his sons,
and they will set on in pursuit. Not that that would matter much, but we
may as well do the job with as little bloodshed as possible. See, I and
my men will take a dozen or so, and push on over the hill. If once the
way be trodden the rest will follow."

So Will of Fauldshope and his men went their way cheerily up the hill,
and over its crest, and down the other side, on their way to Oakwood,
with a handful of cattle before them, little recking that Sir Juden and
his sons, whom they thought to be sleeping peacefully at Elibank, were
crouching among the heather with their friends and retainers, or that
they had ridden over a few o