"Hackerston," reiterated Fawside, to whom his voice seemed familiar; "is such thy name, good fellow?"
"Sooth is it, sir; and my father's before me. Sae, wherefore sic marvel?"
"To you I owe my life, brave man!"
"To owe me siller is nae uncommon thing; but that a man—a braw gallant like you—owes life to me, is something new," replied the merchant, with surprise.
"Have you forgotten that night when on the Castle Hill a single swordsman was so sorely beset by the weapons of at least a score of swashbuckler knaves; and when, but for your Jeddart staff——"
"By my faith, weel do I remember that bluidy night," said he, warmly shaking the hand of Florence; "and how I was beset in turn by these foul limmers, ilk ane o' whom deserved a St. Johnston tippet, for they would have slain me on the open causeway, and burned my booth to boot, but for the timeous arrival o' the town guard and some burgess friends who heard the shouts under their windows, and came forth wi pyne doublet and axe to redd the fray. Wi some landward merchants I ride eastward in an hour, ilk escorting the other, as there are many uncanny loons in the Torwood at times; so, in what can I serve you, sir?"
"I am the laird of Fawside, and shall be right glad to ride eastward in your company."
The merchant touched the peak of his morion.
"I ken the auld tower on the braehead, above the Howemire o' Inveresk."
"I have to fight a false villain who hath wronged me; but am without a single friend to see fair play ensured. Gudeman, may I reckon on thee?"