With this witticism, such as it is, the conversation terminated for a time, and the freebooters pursued their way in silence.
Remarking that they had not yet cleared the County of Northumberland, we change the scene for a moment to Witherington Castle, the residence of the warden of the East March, Sir Robert Cary, who, at the moment when we would introduce him to the reader, was engaged in writing despatches to his mistress, Queen Elizabeth, in which he was giving an account of the then present state of the country, and of his own proceedings for the previous month.
While thus employed, a person dressed in the warden's livery, entered the apartment, cap in hand, and advanced to a respectful distance from the warden, where he stood still, and gave two or three gentle hems, to make the latter aware of his presence. He succeeded. Sir Robert raised his head, and, looking at the intruder, "Well, Watt," he said, "what's stirring now? Any interlopers across the March?"
"Why, my lord," replied the person interrogated, "I have just been informed that Geordie Bourne, with half-a-dozen Scottish thieves, has been seen on the tramp, and, if my intelligence be correct, is at this moment driving before him a score of Sir Thomas Carlton's best beeves."
"Ah! Geordie Bourne!" exclaimed Sir Robert, evidently excited by the intelligence, "that fellow would be worth catching indeed. He's one of the most desperate thieves in Christendom; but a valiant rascal withal, and, as I'm told, a very pretty fellow to boot. To horse, then, Watt, my man," added the warden, "and see if you cannot fall in with him. If he is not killed, you will, of course, bring him to Witherington; and I had rather you should not kill him, if you can help it."
"How many men shall I take, my lord?" inquired this subaltern officer of the warden's; for such he was.
"Why, how many men has Bourne with him?" rejoined Sir Robert.
"Six, my lord, I'm told," replied Watt.
"Then take a dozen with you, Watt, and see they be well armed; for these fellows don't part with their prey very readily, and there may be blows going, especially with such a desperado as Geordie Bourne."
Watt bowed, and left the apartment, and Sir Robert Cary resumed his writing. In ten minutes afterwards, thirteen well-mounted and well-armed troopers were seen issuing from the gate of Witherington Castle, and proceeding in the direction of the Scottish Border.