“The raiders,” echoed he; “and of a truth we have won a prize worth raiding. Come, kiss me, my beauty. Thou shalt be my share of the plunder.”
He forced his face to hers, but the maid fought fiercely, and struck him in the face, whereat the trooper laughed again.
“What a spitfire of a wench” said he. “But we will tame thee ere thou art much older. Bring hither a rope my men, and tie her up. Also gag her until she has found her senses, and knows where and how to use her tongue. Now get to work and lose no time, for I have no wish to bring a hornet’s nest about my ears. Ho! who comes here. Settle them off in the good old fashion.”
The last words were uttered as a couple of farm-hands came from an out-building to see what was astir. The poor knaves were instantly seized before they had chance to cry aloud, and in another moment were hanging by the neck from a neighbouring bough. That preliminary accomplished, the troopers proceeded to plunder the farm of all its valuables, and to get together the cattle that lay about. Poor Goody Andrew begged hard for mercy, but her plea only met with a coarse laugh from the robbers.
“Thou art a well-favoured vixen,” quoth the chief. “And had’st thou only been a score years younger, then I had not left thee to the embraces of the southerners. But thy daughter is fair enough, and I doubt not she will like her Scottish lover when her good humour returns. Now, my lads, set the stead ablaze, and then to horse.”
The men obeyed to the letter, and in a little while the farm was blazing fiercely, the troopers, loaded with plunder, were galloping towards the hills, on the saddle of the chief was the lovely form of the maiden Bess, bound and gagged; and in the farmyard sat the good dame with her younger children, wringing her arms, and weeping bitterly.
In the distant meadows, Yeoman Andrew paused at his work to wipe the sweat from his brow, and then looked up. In the direction of his home a column of smoke arose, which had not been there when last he looked.
“Hallo!” quoth he, “there is surely something amiss. What ho! ye knaves, leave your work awhile, and hurry with me to the farm, for I fear the worst.”
Then, in company with his men, he ran to the steading, to find his weeping wife, and the ruin of what had been his home.