At the first sight of the three strange men who rode abreast a great cry of amazement arose, and the miscellaneous rabble was hushed. Then, in a voice of thunder, the captain cried out that they had despised the gipsies the day before, and that now was the time of revenge. Suiting the action to the word he held his naked sword before him, and we followed at a canter. I have never seen so complete a rout in my life. Stalls, booths, tables were overturned, and the crowd flew wildly in all directions. The others of the tribe, who had come to see the show, looked on from the back, and to the terrified people seemed like fresh assailants. I have never heard such a hubbub as rose from the fleeing men and screaming women. Farmers, country-folk, plowmen mingled with fat burgesses and the craftsmen of the town in one wild rush for safety. And yet we touched no one, but kept on our way to the foot of the street, with our drawn swords held stark upright in our hands. Then we turned and came back; and lo! the great fair was empty, and wild, fearful faces looked at us from window and lane. Then, on our second ride, appeared at the church gate the minister of the parish, a valiant man, who bade us halt. "Stop," saul he, "you men of blood, and cease from disturbing the town, or I will have you all clapt in the stocks for a week." Then the captain spoke up and told him of the wrong and insult of the day before. At this the worthy man looked grave. "Go back to your place," he said, "and it shall be seen to. I am wae that the folk of this town, who have the benefit of my ministrations, set no better example to puir heathen Egyptians. But give up the quarrel at my bidding. ’Vengeance is mine, and I will repay,’ saith the Lord." "But haply, sir," said I, "as Augustine saith, we may be the Lord’s executors." And with this we turned and rode off, leaving the man staring in open-mouthed wonder. CHAPTER XVII OF THE FIGHT IN THE MOSS OF BIGGAR When we came to the camping-place it was almost deserted. The people had all gone to the fair, and nothing was to be seen save the baggage and the children. The morning had grown wilder and a thin snow was falling, the earnest of a storm. The mist was drawing closer and creeping over the boglands. I minded an old saying of Tam Todd’s, "Rouk’s snaw’s wraith," and I looked for a wild storm with gladness, for it would keep the dragoon gentry at home and prohibit their ill-doing. But just in front at the border of the fog and at the extremity of the dry land, the captain saw something which made him draw up his horse sharply and stare. Then he turned to Matthew, and I saw that his face was flushed. "Ride a’ your pith, man," he said, "ride like the wind to the toun, and bid our folk hurry back. Nae words and be off." And the obedient son galloped away to do his bidding.