"Alas and alack," quoth William's Wat, "my heart is sore for thee. Never did I yet come to the fair Dodhead and found thy basket bare."
He set his two sons on coal-black steeds, and he himself mounted a freckled grey, and with Jamie they rode to Branksome Hall, where they shouted so loud and high that old Buccleuch came out to ask what was the matter.
"It is I, Jamie Telfer, of the fair Dodhead, and a harried man am I; there is nought left at fair Dodhead but a weeping wife and three bairnies."
"Alack," quoth the good old lord, "my heart is sorry for thee; go call Willie, my son, to come speedily. Go call up hastily the men that live by the waterside. They who will not ride for Telfer's cattle, let them never again look me in the face. Call up Wat o'Harden and his sons, call up Borthwick Water, Gaudilands and Allanhaugh, call Gilmanscleugh and Commonside; ride by the gate at Priesthaughswire and call the Currors of the Lee, and call brave Willie of Gorrinberry as ye come down the Hermitage slack."
So the Scotts rode and ran bravely and steadily, shouting "Ride for Branksome," and when Willie looked ahead he saw the cattle being driven fast up the Frostylee brook, and to the plain.
"Who drives yon cattle?" cried Willie Scott, "to make us a laughing stock?" "'Tis I, the Captain of Bewcastle; I will not hide my name from thee."
"Let Telfer's cattle go back, or by the faith of my body," said Willie, "I'll ware my dame's calf-skin on thee."
"I will not let the cattle go back neither for thy love nor fear; I will drive Jamie Telfer's cattle in spite of all your company of Scotts."
"Set on them, lads!" cried Willie; "set on them cruelly; there will be many an empty saddle before they come to Ritterford."
So they set to with heart and hand, and blows fell like hail until many were slain and many a horse ran masterless. But Willie was struck by a sword through the headpiece and fell to the ground, and auld Wat of Harden wept for rage when he saw that his son was slain. He took off his steel cap and waved it thrice, and the snow on the Dinlay mountain was never whiter than the locks of his hair.