I whispered something to Maisie, and the good mare set herself to the task. She was still unjaded, for I had used her to long wanderings, and she had not forgotten the lesson. I listened to her steady, rhythmical breath and the measured beat of her hooves, and I thanked Heaven that I had chanced on her. At first they were maybe an eighth of a mile behind. Soon the distance increased, little by little at first, then by more and more as my mare got into her long gallop and their coarse beasts began to tire. We passed the little lonely cot of Lochurd, nestling under great green hills where the sheep bleat and the plovers cry alway. Then on by the lonely bog where men came once to dig marl and left a monstrous wide pit, filled with black water and with no bottom. I paused for a second to let Maisie drink from a burn which comes down from the Mount Hill. Soon we were at the turning where the road to Biggar and the West goes off from the highway. Here I stopped to listen for a moment. Far off and faint I heard the noise of my pursuers, and judged they were near a mile distant. Then off again; and now the road inclines downward, and as one rises over the crest of brae, which the shepherds call the Ruchill End, there bursts on the sight all the vast circle of hills, crowded and piled together, which marks the course of Tweed. Down the little glen of Broughton I rode, while the burn made music by the highway, and it was hard to think that death awaited a little behind. Soon the moors sank into fields, trees and cottages appeared, a great stone mill rose by the water, and I clattered into the village of Broughton. The place was asleep, and, as I drew up at the inn, but one light was apparent. I hammered rudely at the door till the landlord came, sleepy and yawning, and bearing a candle in his hand. At the sight of me he started, for my danger was known over all Tweeddale. In a few words I told him of my pursuit and my request. He was a man of sparing speech, and, saying nothing, he led me to the barn and showed me a hole in a great bank of straw. Maisie he took to the stable. "Ha’e nae fear," he said. "Trust me, I’ll settle the hash o’ thae gentry." Sure enough, I had not been two minutes in the place when I heard voices and the sound of horses, and creeping to the narrow, unglazed window, saw the dragoons draw up at the inn-door. Much shouting brought down the landlord, who made a great show of weariness, and looked like one just aroused from sleep. "Heard you or saw you any man pass on horseback about five minutes syne?" they asked. "I daresay I did," said he. "At ony rate, I heard the sound o’ a horse, and it’s verra likely it was on the Moffat road. There’s a hantle o’ folk pass by here at a’ ’oors." "Ye’re sure he didna come in here?" they said again. "We’ll search the house to see."