“Tell your general he shall have his thirty men before dawn,” and with that the soldier withdrew.
The joy of the Singletons now gave place to something like panic, as they comprehended what the rash pledge of their young chief really meant. It meant that thirty of them must go, and one must stay; and what could one man do to defend a castle like Singleton Towers? The elder soldiers were specially concerned.
“Call him back, Singleton,” said Geordie. “You cannot leave this place defenceless! Think of the peril! Ten men must stay, at the least.”
“Who says ‘must’ to me?” cried the young chief, impatiently. “Are the Singletons to be word-breakers as well as highwaymen? Thirty men shall go. Have we not promised?”
“But who will stay?” asked some one.
“Ah, that’s it,” cried another. “Who is to stay?”
Silence ensued on the question, and then—
“I will stay,” quietly replied Singleton.
“You! The laird!” shouted every one, in amazement. “That can never be!”
“Why not?” inquired the youth. “Who is chief here, you or I?”