ad borne him through the fatigues of
the day, and having taken a tender leave of him,--'Weel, my good young
friends, a glorious and decisive victory,' said he; 'but these loons of
troopers fled ower soon. I should have liked to have shown you the
true points of the PRAELIUM EQUESTRE, or equestrian combat, whilk their
cowardice has postponed, and which I hold to be the pride and terror
of warfare. Weel, I have fought once more in this old quarrel, though I
admit I could not be so far BEN as you lads, being that it was my point
of duty to keep together our handful of horse. And no cavalier ought
in any wise to begrudge honour that befalls his companions, even though
they are ordered upon thrice his danger, whilk, another time, by the
blessing of God, may be his own case.--But, Glennaquoich, and you, Mr.
Waverley, I pray ye to give me your best advice on a matter of
mickle weight, and which deeply affects the honour of the house of
Bradwardine.--I crave your pardon, Ensign Maccombich, and yours,
Inveraughlin, and yours, Edderalshendrach, and yours, sir.'

The last person he addressed was Ballenkeiroch, who, remembering the
death of his son, loured on him with a look of savage defiance. The
Baron, quick as lightning at taking umbrage, had already bent his brow,
when Glennaquoich dragged his major from the spot, and remonstrated
with him, in the authoritative tone of a chieftain, on the madness of
reviving a quarrel in such a moment.

'The ground is cumbered with carcases,' said the old mountaineer,
turning sullenly away; 'ONE MORE would hardly have been kenn'd upon
it; and if it wasna for yoursell, Vich Ian Vohr, that one should be
Bradwardine's or mine.'

The chief soothed while he hurried him away; and then returned to the
Baron. 'It is Ballenkeiroch,' he said, in an under and confidential
voice, 'father of the young man who fell eight years since in the
unlucky affair at the Mains.'

'Ah!' said the Baron, instantly relaxing the doubtful sternness of
his features, 'I can take mickle frae a man to whom I have unhappily
rendered sie a displeasure as that. Ye were right to apprize me,
Glennaquoich; he may look as black as midnight at Martinmas ere Cosmo
Comyne Bradwardine shall say he does him wrang. Ah! I have nae male
lineage, and I should bear with one I have made childless, though
you are aware the blood-wit was made up to your ain satisfaction by
assythment, and that I have since expedited letters of slains.--Weel,