"It matters nothing to thee, thou dour carle, so lay down thy maul, or beware!" replied the earl.
"Then, what are you?"
"A gaberlunzie—a beggar!" said Ashkirk, bitterly.
"Then, where is thy parish token?"
"I spoke but metaphorically, for I Lave not yet taken me unto that trade; and when I do, I will see King James at Jericho, and his parliament too, before I will sew a pewter badge on my doublet, tattered though it be. I will not conform to this new law, believe me, brother rogue. But I repeat, nevertheless, that I am a beggar, because I seek food without having the wherewithal to pay for it; and, moreover, that I am, like thyself, an outlaw."
"Gude and better!" replied the other; "but there is blood on thy sleeve; why man, thou art red handed!"
"Blood! true—I shed a little in my own defence, and what then? I have committed no murder. Believe me, fellow, there is more blood on thy soul than on my fingers. But, enough of this. I seek what every man who hath them not hath a right to seek from those who hath—food, fire, and shelter."
"What is this in your cloak?"
"Something that thou hast no concern with."
"We will soon see that," cried several, laying hands on their knives and daggers.