ow that if a man only _looks_
independent they suspect him, and there is but a short road between
suspicion and the gallows now."

"Humph! we'll be as innocent-lookin' an' submissive as bairns," remarked
Quentin Dick, with a grim smile on his lips and a frown on his brow that
were the reverse of childlike.

Convinced that Spence's arrangement for his mother's safety was the best
in the circumstances, Wallace left her, though somewhat reluctantly, in
the care of the outlawed Covenanters, and resumed his journey with the
shepherd after a few hours' rest.

Proceeding with great caution, they succeeded in avoiding the soldiers
who scoured the country until, towards evening, while crossing a rising
ground they were met suddenly by two troopers. A thicket and bend in
the road had, up to that moment, concealed them from view. Level
grass-fields bordered the road on either side, so that successful flight
was impossible.

"Wull ye fecht?" asked Quentin, in a quick subdued voice.

"Of course I will," returned Wallace.

"Ca' canny at first, then. Be humble an' _awfu'_ meek, till I say
`_Noo_!'"

The troopers were upon them almost as soon as this was uttered.

"Ho! my fine fellows," exclaimed one of them, riding up to Quentin with
drawn sword, "fanatics, I'll be bound. Where from and where away now?"

"We come, honoured sir, frae Irongray, an' we're gaun to Ed'nbury t' buy
cattle," answered Quentin with downcast eyes.

"Indeed, oho! then you must needs have the cash wherewith to buy the
cattle. Where is it?"

"In ma pooch," said the shepherd with a deprecating glance at his
pocket.

"Hand it over, then, my good fellow. Fanatics are not allowed to have
money or to purchase cattle nowadays."

"But, honoured sir, we're no fannyteeks. We're honest shepherds."

The lamb-like expression of Quentin Dick's face as he said this was such
that Wallace had considerable difficulty in restraining an outburst of
laughter, despite their critical position. He maintained his gravity,
however, and firmly grasped his staff, which, like that of his
companion, was a blackthorn modelled somewhat on the pattern of the club
of Hercules.

"Here, Melville," said the first trooper, "hold my horse while I ease
this `honest shepherd' of his purse."

Sheathing his sword, he drew a pistol from its holster, and, handing the
reins to his companion, dismounted.

"NOO!" exclaimed Quentin, bringing his staff down on the trooper's iron
he