“I did not know the Singletons were highwaymen!”
If the roof had fallen in it could not have caused greater consternation. The Singletons looked aghast to hear such a speech from their chief!
“Is the boy mad?” said one in a whisper.
“Or a coward?” said another.
“Or a fool?” said another.
“The laird’s joking,” said auld Geordie, in a coaxing voice; “and we are glad to see ye so merry. But ye’ll be in earnest to-morrow, I warrant, with a score of troopers between you and a thousand pounds!”
“I’m in earnest now,” replied young Singleton. “I’m no robber chief, I tell you. The convoy shall go safe to Edinburgh, as far as we are concerned. But, come now, Geordie, I want to hear something about this old castle of mine, for you know I was scarcely in it since I was a boy.”
But it was easier to turn the talk than to turn the thoughts of his clansmen. They experienced, all of them, a distinct disappointment at this first exercise of authority on the part of their young laird; and the cheeks of some of the younger among them actually coloured with shame at the thought that a Singleton—the Singleton—should be lacking (as they could not help thinking he was) in bravery. However, they said nothing, but seemed to listen to auld Geordie, as he launched out into an account of the old castle of Singleton Towers.
“It’s a brave old place,” said he. “Sir David Singleton it was who built it here, on this arm of the sea, in the time of King Wallace. The story goes that Wallace himself set the top stone of the great tower with his own hands. Sir David did not live long to enjoy the stronghold, as you have heard.”
“How did he die? I never heard that,” asked the young laird.