The king, Baldy, and the cobbler took the road towards Stirling, and Sir Donald spread out his troop to intercept traffic in that direction. Advancing toward the bewildered crowd, Sir Donald spoke to them.
“You will go quietly to your homes,” he said. “You have not seen the hanging, but you have witnessed to-day what none in Scotland ever saw before, the king intervene personally to save a doomed man; therefore, be satisfied, and go home.”
Some one in the mob cried,—
“Hurrah for the poor man’s king! Cheer, lads, cheer!” A great uproar was lifted to the skies; afar off the three pedestrians heard it, and Baldy, the man of many friends, taking the clamour as a public compliment to himself, waved his bonnet at the distant vociferous multitude.
The King’s Visit
“No, no,” said the king decisively, “Bring them in, bring them in. I’ll have none cast into prison without at least a hearing. Have any of your men been killed?”
“No, your majesty,” replied Sir Donald, “but some of them have wounds they will not forget in a hurry; the Highlandmen fought like tiger-cats.”
“How many are there of them?” asked the king.