"A strange time of night," said I, "for a shepherd to look for his sheep."
"Ay," answered the voice, "and my flock has been scattered by wolves."
"I understand," I said. "You are a minister of the Kirk, a Covenanter, a hill-man in hiding."
He came quite close to me and said: "I'm no' denying that you speak the truth. Who are you?"
"Like you," I replied, "I am a fugitive--a man with a price on his head."
"A Covenanter?"
"No; a deserter from Lag's Horse."
"From Lag's Horse?" he exclaimed, repeating my words. "A deserter?"
Uncertain what to say, I waited. Then he continued:
"May I make so bold as to ask if your desertion is the fruit of conviction of soul, or the outcome of some drunken spree?"