rain caught the glint of Sholto's
blue baldric and shining steel girdle-brace appearing suddenly from
behind a knoll, they incontinently bolted every way with noses to the
ground, scattering packs and brandishing heels like young colts turned
out to grass. It chanced that one of the largest mules made directly
towards the fords of Lochar, and the youths, catching the flying
bridle at either side, applied a sort of brake which sufficiently
slowed the beast's movements to enable such agile skipjacks as Sholto
and Laurence to mount. But as they were concerned more with their
leaping from the ground than with what was already upon the animal's
back, their heads met with a crash in the midst, in which collision
the superior weight of the younger had very naturally the better of
the encounter.

Sholto dropped instantly back to the ground. He was somewhat stunned
by the blow, but the sight of his brother triumphantly splashing
through the shallows aroused him. He arose, and seizing the first
stone that came to hand hurled it after Laurence, swearing fraternally
that he would smite him in the brisket with a dirk as soon as he
caught him for that dastard blow. The first stone flew wide, though
the splash caused the mule to shy into deeper water, to the damping of
his rider's legs. But the second, being better aimed, took the animal
fairly on the rump, and, fetching up on a fly-galled spot, frightened
it with bumping bags and loud squeals into the woods of Glen Lochar,
which come down close to the fords on every side. Here presently
Laurence found himself, like Absalom, caught in the branches of a
beech, and left hanging between heaven and earth. A rider in complete
plate of black mail caught him down, still holding on to his bow, and,
placing him across the saddle, brought down the flat of his gauntleted
hand upon a spot of the lad's person which, being uncovered by mail,
responded with a resounding smack. Then, amid the boisterous laughter
of the men-at-arms, he let Laurence slip to the ground.

But the younger son of Brawny Kim, master armourer of Carlinwark, was
not the lad to take such an insult meekly, even from a man-at-arms
riding on horseback. He threw his bow into the nearest thicket, and
seizing the most convenient ammunition, which chanced to be in great
plenty that day upon the braes of Balmaghie, pursued his insulter
along the glade with such excellent aim and good effect that the
black unadorned armour of the hor