The path was rough, as well as narrow, and on meeting four armed men suddenly in the dark, the man shrunk from the bridle of his horse, which reared, and caused the contents of the panniers to make a strange noise among the straw in which they were packed.
"Be not alarmed, good fellow," said Glengyle; "we are not thieves, but soldiers in the King's service. What have you in the panniers?"
The man hesitated, and endeavoured to pass on.
"Speak!" said the Colonel, whose suspicions became aroused; "is it plunder?"
"Heaven forbid—I am an elder of the kirk, sir."
"What then?"
"Heads for the Lords of Council at Edinburgh," replied the stranger, gathering courage.
"Heads of whom?"
"The King's enemies."
"Mean you gipsies, or westland Whigs?"