A prayer stole up from my heart--not for mercy, but for the safety of the hill-folks on the morrow, and for the pardon of my own sins. Only a shriven soul could hope to be reunited with my beloved:--please God, Mary would be waiting for me on the other side. The trooper rose and came towards me. "I’ll bluid ye like a sheep," he snarled, and seizing me by the hair swung my head over to one side. Death stared me in the face, and, let me set it down for the comfort of those who live in daily terror of death, at that moment I felt no fear. "Like a sheep," he mumbled--and swung his arm back for the blow; but at that instant he crashed forward carrying me before him, and his open knife clattered on the floor. "Thank God--oh, thank God," whispered a woman’s voice, as she drew me, still bound to the chair, from under the heavy body of the giant. In a trice she had cut my bonds--and was chafing my numbed limbs. "Ha’e I killed him?" she asked anxiously. I looked at the giant. He was breathing heavily--and a long gash on the back of his head was spurting jets of blood. "No," I said--"only stunned him. I owe my life to you." "Ay. Tae me an’ the tatie-beetle," she answered, pointing to her weapon on the floor. "But haste ye. Tie him up afore he comes tae." I bound him, hands and feet, with a grim satisfaction, and left him lying on his face. The woman watched me anxiously, urging me to greater haste. "And now," I said--"what of you? You must escape." "Oh, I’ll be a’ richt," she said, leading the way to the other room. "My man will be back in an ’oor. Tie me in a chair--and gag me: and I’ll tell a bonnie story when Peter comes hame." I did her bidding quickly, pouring out my gratitude with fervent lips. As I was about to gag her with her kerchief, she forbade me for a moment, and said with tears in her eyes: "God forgi’e me! My mither was a Covenanter--an’--I mairrit a trooper." I bent down reverently and kissed her bound hands. "You have done a greater service to the Covenant than you know," I said, then springing up I dashed from the house into the gathering darkness. I had lost two precious hours--but by the mercy of God I was still alive, and I should carry my message through. I raced down the slope to the road, and turned my face to the long ascent. The wind had abated, and I could make better progress. The cold air stung my burnt arm, but as I set my mind to my task the pain ceased to trouble me.