“Thou art a liar!” said the king, “and an inventor of lies, if not the father of them; for these two dogs were locked up with me in my chamber last night, and a guard placed on the door, so that what you aver is impossible.”
“I declare to your majesty,” said the stranger, “by the truth of that right hand, that I myself saw the two hounds at liberty this morning at daylight. I saw them come along the Monk’s Meadow, carrying something across on their necks.”
“It is easy to prove the falsehood of all that thou hast said,” replied the king; “and thy malicious intent shall not go unpunished.”
He then called in the guards, and bade them declare before that audacious stranger, if his two white hounds, Mooly and Scratch, were not in his chamber all the night. The guards were mute, and looked one to another.
“Why are you ashamed to declare the truth?” said the king to them. “Say, were the two hounds in my chamber all night, or were they not?”
The men answered, “that the hounds were certainly out. How it came they knew not, but that they were let in in the morning.”
“There is a conspiracy among you again,” said the king; “if not to deprive your king of life, to deprive that life of every kind of quiet and social comfort.”
“I demand justice,” said the stranger, “in the names of two weeping and distracted mothers! In the name of all that is right, and held dear among men! I demand that these two obnoxious and devouring animals be hung upon a tree, or burnt alive before the sun go down. Then shall the men of Scotland see that their sovereign respects their feelings and privileges, even though they run counter to his own pleasures.”
“One of these dogs saved my life last night,” said the king; “and it is very hard indeed that I should be compelled to do this. I will have better testimony; and if I find that these children have actually been devoured, (as most unlikely it is,) the depredators shall be punished.”