"Cousins and sodger-folk are kittle cattle," said he. "I wadna wonder noo but that Maister Gilbert were ahint a dyke. I've heard tell o' some o' his pliskies in his ain land, and he's no the lad to let a midge stick in his throat."
I drew up my horse angrily.
"Nicol," I cried, "you are intolerable. My cousin is a gentleman of birth, and do you think he is the man to kill from a dyke-side? Fie on you, you have the notions of a common roost-robber."
"Weel, away then, my lord," cries he. "So be it; but I've little faith in your Gilberts for a' their gentrice. I ken their breed ower weel. But I maun ride afore ye, for there are some gey rough bits on the road, and I'm a wee bit mair sure in the saddle than yoursel, wi' a' respect to your lairdship."
So the wilful fellow must needs ride before me, looking sharply to the right and left as though we were in far Muscovy instead of peaceful Holland.
As for me, I felt in no humour to listen to my servant's tales or do aught than think dolefully on my own matters. The sight of my cousin and of Mistress Kate had made me sore sick for home, and I could have found it in my heart once and again to take ship at the next sailing for Leith. But these thoughts I choked down, for I felt that they were unbecoming to any man. Yet I longed for Marjory as never lover longed for his mistress. Her bright hair was ever before my sight, and her last words on that February evening rang always in my head. I prayed to God to watch over her as I rode through the stiff poplars on the way to Leyden.
As for my quarrel, I cared not a straw for Gilbert and his ill-will, it having never been my nature to be timorous toward men. Nay, I looked forward to meeting him with no little pleasure, for it had long been an open question which of the twain was best at the sword-play.
"Maister John," said Nicol, suddenly turning round, "I saw twae men creeping roond thae scrunts o' trees. I wis they maunna be after ony ill." We were by this time nearing a black, inhospitable part of the land, where the road ran across a moor all covered with ferns and rushes and old trunks of trees.
"Ride on," said I; "if we turned for every man that crosses the path, we should never leave our own threshold."
He did as he was ordered, and our horses being put to the canter, covered the ground gallantly, and our stirrup-chains clinked in the silent night.