“Somewhat unruly, and very ill to tame.
I would have none think that I call them thieves;
For, if I did, it would be arrant lies.”
But, stealthily as the young master of Harden had made his preparations for the foray, old Sir Gideon had got timely notice of it; and hence it was, that not a Murray seemed astir when they took the cattle from the byres, and drove them towards Oakwood. But, through the moonlight, there were eyes beheld every step they took—their every movement was watched and traced; and amongst those who watched was the stern old knight, with fifty followers at his back.
“Quiet! quiet!” he again and again, in deep murmurs, uttered to his dependents, throwing back his hand, and speaking in a deep and earnest whisper, that awed even the slow but ferocious sleuth-hound that accompanied them, and caused it to crouch back to his feet. In a yet deeper whisper, he added, encouragingly—“Patience, my merry men!—bide your time!—ye shall hae work before long go by.”
When, therefore, the young laird and his followers began to disperse in the thickest of the forest, as they drove the cattle before them, Sir Gideon suddenly exclaimed—“Now for the onset!” And, at the sound of his voice, the sleuth-hound howled loud and savagely.
“We are followed!—Halt! halt!—to arms! to arms!” cried the heir of Harden.
Three or four were left in charge of the now somewhat scattered herd of cattle, and to drive them to a distance; while the rest of the party spurred back their horses as rapidly as the tangled pass in the forest would permit, to the spot from whence the voice of their young leader proceeded. They arrived speedily, but they arrived too late. In a moment, and with no signal save the baying of the hound, old Sir Gideon and his armed company had burst upon young Scott and Old Simon, and ere the former could cry for assistance, they had surrounded them.
“Willie Scott! ye rash laddie!” cried Sir Gideon—“yield quietly, or a thief’s death shall ye die; and in the very forest through which ye have this night driven my cattle, the corbies and you shall become acquaint—or, at least, if ye see not them, they shall see you and feel you too.”
“Brag on, ye auld greybeard,” exclaimed the youth; “but while a Scott o’ Harden has a finger to wag, no power on earth shall make his tongue say ‘I am conquered!’ So come on!—do your best—do your worst—here is the hand and the sword to meet ye!—and were ye ten to one, ye shall find that Willie Scott isna the lad to turn his back, though ten full-grown Murrays stand before his face.”
“By my sooth, then, callant,” cried the old knight, “and it was small mercy, after what ye hae done, that I intended to show ye; and after what ye hae said, it shall be less that I will grant ye. Sae come on lads, and now to humble the Hardens.”