Scarlett endeavored to reason with him, to dissuade him from the venture for that night at least. "To-morrow, Lochinvar; only one night--we shall wait but to see what to-morrow brings." "Scarlett, look you here," Wat said, earnestly, his face gleaming ghastly through the lattice in the steely glint of stars. "You know whether or not I am a man of my word. I have a dagger here--hid in the leather of my boot. Now if you do not help me to escape to-night, 'fore the Lord, Jack, I will let out my soul or the morning--and my blood will be on your head." He leaned out till his agony-wet brow touched the bars. His fingers clutched and shook them in his desperation. "Well," said Scarlett, half to himself, "I will e'en do it, since it must be so. But it will prove a sorry job for us all. 'Tis but taking the poor laddie's life in another way." So, vanishing for a tale of minutes, which seemed hours to the pale, wounded, half-frenzied figure at the window, he returned with a "geleck" or iron crow-bar, with which he promptly started work on the lime and plaster of the stanchions. It was not long before he loosened one and then another. Once or twice he had to cower down in order to escape the lanterns of the patrol--for, unlike the clans, the Cameronians kept excellent watch; but in half an hour his task was completed. "The Lord forgie me, laddie, for this!" he said, as he helped Wat out, and felt the palms of his hands burning hot, while his body was shaking with feverish cold. "Now help me to get a horse!" said Wat, as soon as they stood in safety under the ruined walls of the cathedral. "There are the stables of the officers' horses. Come, let us go over yonder." "It's a rope's end at ony rate," said Scarlett; "old Jack has been at mony ploys, but he never was a horse-thief before!" "How did we get away from the city of Amersfort, tell me, Jack?" said Wat, with a touch of his ancient humor, being pleased at getting his will. "Ah, but then a woman did the stealing for love, as you do now. It is different with me, that have no love to steal for--or to die for, either," he added, sadly. Wat put his hand affectionately on the shoulder of the old free-lance. "Even so do you steal, old bear," he said, gently patting him; "you do it for love of me." "I declare," quoth Scarlett, with relief in his voice, "I believe I do. Guid kens what there is aboot ye, laddie, that makes both lassies and auld grizzle-pates run their heads into holes and their necks into tow-ropes for the love o' ye!" The stables had been left completely unguarded, for it was the officers' boast that they desired not any greater safety than their men. Cleland, indeed, had once ordered all the officers' horses to be brought out and shot, just because some of the soldiers complained that the officers had a greater chance of escape than they.