the Englishman.

"Not till I can help myself no otherwise," said Halbert, with the same
moderation of tone and manner.

"Art thou for thine own hand, friend, or to whom dost thou owe service?"
demanded the English captain.

"To the noble Earl of Murray."

"Then thou servest," said the Southron, "the most disloyal nobleman who
breathes--false both to England and Scotland."

"Thou liest," said Glendinning, regardless of all consequences.

"Ha! art thou so hot now, and wert so cold but a minute since? I lie, do
I? Wilt thou do battle with me on that quarrel?"

"With one to one, one to two, or two to five, as you list," said Halbert
Glendinning; "grant me but a fair field."

"That thou shalt have. Stand back, my mates," said the brave
Englishman. "If I fall, give him fair play, and let him go off free with
his people."

"Long life to the noble captain!" cried the soldiers, as impatient to
see the duel as if it had been a bull.

"He will have a short life of it, though," said the sergeant, "if he, an
old man of sixty, is to fight for any reason, or for no reason, with
every man he meets, and especially the young fellows he might be father
to. And here comes the warden, besides, to see the sword-play."

In fact, Sir John Foster came up with a considerable body of his
horsemen, just as his captain, whose age rendered him unequal to the
combat with so strong and active a youth as Glendinning, lost his
sword.[102]

"Take it up for shame, old Stawarth Bolton," said the English warden;
"and thou, young man, get you gone to your own friends, and loiter not
here."

Notwithstanding this peremptory order, Halbert Glendinning could not
help stopping to cast a look upon the unfortunate Catherine, who lay
insensible of the danger and of the trampling of so many horses around
her--insensible, as the second glance assured him, of all and forever.
Glendinning almost rejoiced when he saw that the last misery of life was
over, and that the hoofs of the war-horses, amongst which he was
compelled to leave her, could only injure and deface a senseless corpse.
He caught the infant from her arms, half ashamed of the shout of
laughter which rose on all sides, at seeing an armed man in such a
situation assume such an unwonted and inconvenient burden.

"Shoulder your infant!" cried a harquebusier.

"Port your infant!" said a pikeman.

"Peace, ye brutes!" said Stawarth Bolton, "and respect humanity in
others, if you have none you