he hill, and were looking down on the young waters of Ewes.

The company grew, as men dropped in from left and right. Sim
recognised the wild hair of Charlie of Geddinscleuch, and the square
shoulders of Adam of Frodslaw. They passed Mosspaul, a twinkle far
down in the glen, and presently came to the long green slope which is
called the Carewoodrig, and which makes a pass from Ewes to Hermitage.
To Sim it seemed that an army had encamped on it. Fires had been lit
in a howe, and wearied men slept by them. These were the runners, who
all day had been warning the dales. By one fire stood the great figure
of Wat o' the Ninemileburn, blaspheming to the skies and counting his
losses. He had girded on a long sword, and for better precaution had
slung an axe on his back. At the sight of young Harden he held his
peace. The foray was Branksome's and a Scott must lead.

Dimly and stupidly, for he was very weary, Sim heard word of the enemy.
The beasts had travelled slow, and would not cross Liddel till sunrise.
Now they were high up on Tarras water, making for Liddel at a ford
below the Castletown. There had been no time to warn the Elliots, but
the odds were that Lariston and Mangerton would be out by morning.

"Never heed the Elliots," cried young Harden. "We can redd our ain
frays, lads. Haste and ride, and we'll hae Geordie Musgrave long ere
he wins to the Ritterford, Borrowstonemoss is the bit for us." And
with a light Scott laugh he was in the saddle.

They were now in a land of low hills, which made ill-going. A
companion gave Sim the news. Bewcastle and five-score men and the
Scots four-score and three. "It's waur to haul than to win," said the
man. "Ae man can take ten beasts when three 'ill no keep them.
There'll be bluidy war on Tarras side ere the nicht's dune."

Sim was feeling his weariness too sore for speech. He remembered that
he had tasted no food for fifteen hours. He found his meal-poke and
filled his mouth, but the stuff choked him. It only made him cough
fiercely, so that Wat o' the Ninemileburn, riding before him, cursed
him for a broken-winded fool. Also he was remembering about Marion,
lying sick in the darkness twenty miles over the hills.

The moon was clouded, for an east wind was springing up. It was ill
riding on the braeface, and Sim and his shelty floundered among the
screes. He was wondering how long it would all last. Soon he must
fall down and be the scorn of the Bord