my Lord of Scroope let him go.

A blithe man was Dick o' the Cow as he went down the streets of Carlisle
next morning, for he had money in his pocket, and a big scheme floating
in his brain. It mattered little to him that men smiled to each other as
they passed him, and whispered, "There goes my Lord of Scroope's poor
jester."

"He laughs the longest who laughs the last," he thought to himself, "and
mayhap all men will envy me before long."

First of all, he went and bought a pair of spurs, and a new bridle,
which he carefully hid in his breeches pocket, then he turned his back
on Carlisle and set out to walk over Bewcastle Waste into Liddesdale. It
was a long walk, but he footed it bravely, and at last he arrived at
Pudding-burn House, a strongly fortified place, held by John Armstrong,
"The Laird's Jock," as he was called, son of the Laird of Mangerton, and
a man of importance in the clan. He was known to be both just and
generous, and the poor fool thought that he would go to him, and tell
him his story, in the hope that he would force the rest of the
Armstrongs to give him back his three cows. But when he came near the
Pudding-burn House, he found to his dismay that the two Armstrongs who
had stolen his cows, Johnie and Willie, had stopped there, on their way
home, with all their men-at-arms, and, from the sounds of feasting and
mirth which he heard as he approached, he suspected that one, at least,
of his three cows had been killed to provide the supper.

"Ah well," thought he to himself, "I am but a poor fool, and there are
three-and-thirty armed men against me. To fight is impossible, so I must
e'en set my wits to work against their strength of arms."

So he walked boldly up to the house, and demanded to see the Laird's
Jock. There was much laughter among the men-at-arms as he was led into
the great hall, for everyone had heard of my Lord of Scroope's jester,
and, when they knew that it was he, they all crowded round to see what
he was like.

He knew his manners, and bowed right low before the master of the house.
"God save thee, my good Laird's Jock," he said, "although I fear me I
cannot wish so well to all thy company. For I come here to bring a
complaint against two of these men--against Johnie and Willie Armstrong,
who, with their followers, broke into my house near Carlisle these two
nights past, and drove away my three good milk cows, forbye stealing
three coverlets from my bed. And I crave that I g