seemed surprised at finding it
locked, begged his pardon, and protested it was done by mistake. As soon
as the bailiff got out, 'Prithee friend,' (says he) 'what is it that
hangs upon yonder tree?' 'O sir,' (says the other) ''tis a bailiff, a
cursed rogue that has the impudence to come hither to my master, and dun
him for an old debt; and therefore he ordered him to be hanged there
for a warning to all his fraternity. I think the impudent dog deserved
it, and in troth, we have been commended by all his neighbours for so
doing.' The catchpole was strangely terrified at this account, but
hoping that the servant did not know him to be one of the same
profession, he walked away with a seeming carelessness, till he thought
himself out of sight, and then looking round and finding the way clear,
he threw off his coat and ran for his life, not resting, nor so much as
looking behind him, till he came to a village about three or four miles
off; where, when he had recovered breath, he told the story of his
danger and escape, just as he apprehended it to be. Rob Roy was so
pleased with the success of his frolic, that the next day he sent home
the bailiff's coat and horse, and withal let his neighbours know that it
was only a contrivance to frighten him away; by which means the poor
rogue became the common subject of the people's diversion."

This adventure was immediately recounted to the Governor of Stirling
Castle by the messenger, who hastened to that fortress. A party of
soldiers was ordered out to seize Rob Roy; but the chieftain gained
intelligence of their approach, and Rob Roy retreated to the hills;
whilst the country of the Macgregors was roused, and put into a state of
defence. The soldiers, meantime, worn out with their search among the
hills, took possession of an empty house and filled it with heath for
beds. The Macgregors, always active and watchful, set fire to the house,
and drove their enemies from their post. Thus Rob Roy escaped the
pursuit of justice, the troopers being obliged to return to Stirling
Castle. He was not always so fortunate as to avoid imminent danger; yet
he had a faithful friend who watched over his safety, and who would have
willingly sacrificed his life for that of Macgregor. This was the
chieftain's lieutenant, Fletcher, or Macanaleister, "the _Little John_
of his band," and an excellent marksman. "It happened," writes Sir W.
Scott, "that MacGregor and his party had been surprised and disper