"Who's there?" cried a rough voice.
"A friend," answered Mike.
"What is your name?" said the other, evidently in agitation.
"I never gie my name through closed doors," answered Mike; "and sae lang as ane acts within the law, there's nae use for imitatin the ways o' jail birds. My name, however, is no unlike your lady's maiden ane—an admission I mak through sheer courtesy and guid manners, and respect for her worthy faither."
The blind was taken down hurriedly, and a face covered with a great profusion of curly black hair presented itself. Mike drew down his hat, so as to cover his face, and, clapping Bess on the neck, paced along at great ease. After trying to scan his countenance, the gentleman seemed at a great loss.
"What is it, sir, that you wish with me?" said he, "or what is your object in thus disturbing peaceable travellers by legal turnpikes?"
"I beg your pardon," replied Mike. "The night is dark, and the road lonely; I thought ye micht hae wished a companion—sma' thanks for my courtesy. The gentlemen in the carriage that's comin up behind, at a speed greater than yours, ken better what is due to Scottish civility. I accompanied them a space, and enjoyed their conversation. They're in search o' twa Gretna fugitives, and wished me to assist them in the pursuit. I'm sorry I left them, seein I hae forgathered wi' ithers wha dinna appreciate fully my motives. I think I canna do better than ask Bess to slacken her pace, and bring me again to the enjoyment o' their society and conversation."
A suppressed scream from a female within followed this speech. The gentleman withdrew his head, to assist the lady; the coachman looked round, and was inclined to halt; but the words, "Drive on!" rang in his ears, and he obeyed. Mike calmly kept his course, clapping Bess's neck occasionally, and pretending not to notice the agitation and confusion within the carriage, where it seemed as if the lady had gone off in a faint. After some time, the same whiskered face appeared at the carriage-window.
"Hark ye, friend," said he, in an agitated tone; "you're a Scotchman, I presume, and must be up, as we say in London. What would you take to put the gentlemen in the other carriage off the scent?"
"What scent?" asked Mike, gravely.