"If I were younger," he replied, "and could perform the task myself, I would gladly do it; but it is past my power. It is an urgent matter--for it concerns the safety of one dear to me and very precious to the Cause." "Command me," I exclaimed. "I am ready to do anything I can; only tell me how I may help." "I have a friend in Edinburgh," he said, "Peter Burgess by name. His life is in danger. I must get a message to him ere Friday. Will you take it?" "Gladly," I cried. "Trust me--and all the persecutors in Scotland shall not prevent me." A smile flickered upon his face. "That is a reckless boast," he said. "But I trust you, and thank you." "I am ready to start at once," I said. "What?" he exclaimed. "Weary as you are!" "Certainly," I answered, "one must needs haste. I’ll have a plunge in the pool while you write your letter, and after a mouthful of food, I’ll be off." By the time I had bathed and eaten, his message was ready, and with a few last words of instruction I was about to set off. But he called me back. "Have a care to your goings, my son. Be wary! be brave! I trust you will succeed in reaching my friend ere it is too late; but you cannot be back in time for the great Assembly on Sabbath. I shall miss you." He raised his hand in blessing, and, secreting the letter about me, I turned, and was gone. *CHAPTER XXXIV* *THE FLIGHT OF PETER BURGESS* When night fell I was far away among the hills. I had made good progress and was well content. I should accomplish the journey in good time--of that I was confident--so I crawled into a bed of heather and slept soundly. In the early morning I was awakened by the call of the moor birds. Before starting on my journey again, I thought it wise to secrete the letter with greater care, so I took off one of my shoes, and, making a hollow in the heel, folded the letter tightly and placed it there. Then I took to the road again. I had hoped to reach Edinburgh by noon on Thursday, but when I came in sight of the city it was past five o’clock. The journey had proved more arduous than I expected; but I was still in time. The last long mile accomplished, I reached the city. The moon had risen, and as I swung round beneath the grey shadow of Holyrood I caught a glimpse of the noble brow of Arthur’s Seat towering high behind it. I passed the guard of soldiers at the Canongate without challenge, for, apparently, they saw in me nothing more than a travel-stained and dusty wanderer--some gangrel body.