"Good heavens, it's you!" I exclaimed.
"Ay," he replied with a smile, half-closing his left eye: "But haud your wheesht. As the Latin has it: 'Non omnes dormiunt qui clausos habent oculos.' A trooper can sleep wi' an e'e open. Tak tent, but lend me a haun'."
From one of his pockets he produced a roll of tarred twine. Quickly cutting lengths from it, he tied the feet of the unconscious men, whom we dragged and laid starwise, on their backs, round one of the tree-trunks. He pulled the arms of each above their heads and brought them round the tree as far as possible, tying a cord firmly round their wrists, and carrying it round the bole. The skill he displayed amazed me. Long after they should regain consciousness they would have to struggle hard before they would be able to free themselves. I felt some satisfaction as I thought of their plight. When he had finished his work he surveyed each severely, laying his hand upon their hearts.
"No, there is no' ane o' them deid. They'll a' come tae by and by. But I'm thinkin' they'll be sair muddled. Come awa', lad."
"Let us look for the girl first," I suggested.
"Na, na," said he. "By this time the lassie, wha nae doot can rin like a hare, is half road to Kirkbean. Now if it had been the widda--but that's a different story."
Together we made our way to the edge of the copse. Just inside it I discovered the discarded pack, and beside it the wooden leg and long grey beard.
As my companion adjusted the wooden stump to his knee, he said: "Ay, sic ploys are terribly sair on a rheumatic knee." Then he proceeded to put on his beard, producing from one of his pockets a little phial of adhesive stuff with which he smeared his face. I watched, with an ill-concealed smile. "Noo," he said, "did ye ever see onything cleaner or bonnier? I'm a man o' peace, but when I'm roused I'm a deevil. Juist ae clout apiece, and they fell like pole-axed stirks--the three o' them. Bonnie clouts, were they no'?"
I assured him that I had never seen foes so formidable vanquished so rapidly and completely.
"Ye're a lad o' sense," he said; "that wasna' a bad clout ye hit the last o' them yersel'; but he needed a wee tap frae my stick to feenish him. I like a clean job. Come on," and swinging his pack on to his shoulder he led the way to the road.