“Do you know the country hereabout?” asked the king of the man who had been prisoner longest.
“Every inch of it.”
“Can you guide us safely to the north in the darkness?”
“Oh, yes, once I am down by the stream.”
“Then,” said the king, “go down by the stream. When you are on firm footing say no word, but shake the rope. If you prove a true guide to us this night we will pay you well.”
“I shall be well paid with my liberty,” replied the prisoner, crawling cautiously over the stone sill and disappearing in the darkness. The cobbler held the taut line in his hand. No man spoke, they hardly seemed to breathe until the cobbler said:
“He’s safe. Your majesty should go next.”
“The captain is the last to leave the ship,” said the king; “over you go, Flemming.” After the cobbler, Sir David descended, followed by the king; and they found at the bottom of the ravine some yards of line to spare.
Their adventures through that wild night and the next day, until they came to a village where they could purchase horses, form a story in themselves.
When the king reached Stirling, and was dressed once more in a costume more suited to his station than that which had been torn by the brambles of the Border, he called to him the chief minister of his realm.