Ross.—Gentlemen, there is no occasion to stand jesting and talking nonsense. Here is as pretty a piece of murder as ever was committed; and it remains for us to decide what we will do, first with the traitor, Hamilton, and secondly with the murderer, Graham.
Graham.—Whatever you do with me, I hope you will not harm that poor man. Let him go; and thus do a charitable action for once in your lives.
Russell.—I always, do you see, gentlemen, goes with the majority. Hang it, shoot or not is all one to Dick Russell. If you make up your minds to let him go scot-free, why, I’se not oppose it.
Jones.—Well, well, let him go and sing psalms in his own canting fashion.
The fact is, these men were getting sick of shedding innocent blood, and although ready to spill more on being ordered, rather shunned it than otherwise—especially when their victims were unresisting.
“I see, comrades, you are agreed to let the old fool go unharmed,” said Ross. Then walking up to Allan, who still knelt—his daughter with her arms around him, awaiting in terrible suspense the result of their deliberation, “Get up,” said he, “and bless your stars; but take care in future of your treasonable Covenanting tricks under the cloak of charity. It is not every day you will get a young fellow to shoot your executioner and save your life. As for you, Graham,” turning to his companion, “I hold you prisoner. You must accompany us to head-quarters, and there take your trial for this business. You have committed a black murder on the body of your officer; and if we failed to bring you up, old Dalzell would have us shot like so many pyets the minute after.”
Graham’s carbine and pistols were immediately taken from him, and his hands tied behind his back by the remaining troopers.
“Farewell, young woman,” said he to Mary, who looked at him with tears of gratitude, “farewell! I have saved your father’s life and forfeited my own: don’t forget Jack Graham.”
The unfortunate girl was distracted at this heartrending sight; and she rushed forward to entreat his guards to give him liberty. One of them presented his carbine at her—
“Off, mistress; blast my heart, if it were not for your pretty face, I would send an ounce of cold lead through you. What the devil—haven’t we spared your father’s life, and you would have us connive at the escape of a murderer, to the risk of our own necks!”