ut, as
I have already stated, the Scotts, and the cattle which they drove before
them, were scattered, and ere those who were in advance could arrive to
the rescue of their friends in the rear, the latter were slain, wounded,
or overpowered. They also fought against fearful odds. The young laird
himself had his sword broken in his grasp, and his horse was struck
dead beneath him. He was instantly surrounded and made prisoner by the
Murrays; and, at the same time, old Simon fell into their hands.

The few remaining retainers of the house of Harden gave way when they
found their leader a captive, and they fled, leaving the cattle behind
them. Sir Gideon Murray, therefore, recovered all that had been taken
from him; and though he had captured but two prisoners, the one was the
chief, and the other his principal adviser and second in command. The
old knight, therefore, commanded that they should be bound with cords
together, and in such rueful plight led to his castle at Elibank. It was
noon before they reached it, and Lady Murray came forth to welcome her
husband, and congratulate him upon his success. But when she beheld the
heir of Harden a captive, and thought of how little mercy was to be
expected from Sir Gideon when once aroused, she remembered that she was
a mother, and that one of her children might one day be situated as
their prisoner then was.

The young laird, with his aged kinsman and dependent, were thrust into
a dark room; and he who locked them up informed them that the next day
their bodies would be hung up on the nearest tree.

"My life and lang fasting!" exclaimed Simon, "ye surely wouldna be
speaking o' sic a thing as hanging to an auld man like me. If we were
to be shot or beheaded--though I would like neither the ane nor the
ither--it wouldna be a thing in particular to be complained o'; but to
be hanged like a dog is so disgracefu' and unchristian-like, that I
would rather die ten times in a day, than feel a hempen cravat about my
neck ance. And, moreover, I must say that hanging is not treating my
dear young maister and kinsman as he ocht to be treated. His birth, his
rank, and the memory o' his ancestors and mine, demand mair respect; and
therefore, I say, gae tell your maister, that, if he is determined that
we are to die--though I have no ambition to cut my breath before my
time--that I think, as a gentleman, it is his duty to see that we die
the death o' gentlemen.

"Silence, Simon," cried t