A face not handsome and thoroughly Scottish was disclosed, with keen intelligence in the gray eyes, and a certain air of offended dignity, yet self-control, in the close-shut mouth. The cheeks were sunburnt and freckled, a tawny down of young manhood was on the long upper lip, and the short-cut hair was red; but there was an intelligent and trustworthy expression in the countenance, and the tall figure sat on horseback with the upright ease of one well trained.
‘Soh!’ said Sir Patrick, looking him over, ‘how ca’ they you, lad?’
‘Geordie o’ the Red Peel,’ he answered.
‘That’s a by-name,’ said the knight sternly; ‘I must have the full name of any man who rides with me.’
‘George Douglas, then, if nothing short of that will content you!’
‘Are ye sib to the Earl?’
‘Ay, sir, and have rid in his company.’
‘Whose word am I to take for that?’
‘Mine, sir, a word that none has ever doubted,’ said the youth boldly. ‘By that your son kens me.’
David here vouched for having seen the young man in the Angus following, when he had accompanied his father in the last riding of the Scots Parliament at Edinburgh; and this so far satisfied Sir Patrick that he consented to receive the stranger into his company, but only on condition of an oath of absolute obedience so long as he remained in the troop.