“Aboot this time, ae day i’ the gloamin’, there cam on sic an awfu’ storm, ’at the fowk o’ the castel war frichtit ’maist oot o’ their wits. The licht’nin’ cam oot o’ the yerd, an’ no frae the lift at a’; the win’ roared as gien ’t had been an incarnat rage; the thunner rattlet an’ crackit, as gien the mune an’ a’ the stars had been made kettledrums o’ for the occasion; but never a drap o’ rain or a stane o’ hail fell; naething brak oot but blue licht an’ roarin’ win’. But the strangest thing was, that the sea lay a’ the time as oonconcernt as a sleepin’ bairn; the win’ got nae mair grip o’ ’t nor gien a’ the angels had been poorin’ ile oot o’ widows’ cruses upo’ ’t; the verra tide came up quaieter nor ord’nar; and the fowk war sair perplext as weel ’s frichtit. “Jist as the clock o’ the castel chappit the deid o’ the nicht, the clamour o’ v’ices was hard throu’ the thunner an’ the win’; an’ the warder--luikin’ doon frae the heich bartizan o’ the muckle tooer, saw i’ the fire-flauchts, a company o’ riders appro’chin’ the castel, a’ upo’ gran’ horses, he said, that sprang this gait an’ that, an shot fire frae their een. At the drawbrig they blew a horn ’at rowtit like a’ the bulls o’ Bashan, an’ whan the warder challencht them, claimt hoose-room for the nicht. Naebody had ever hard o’ the place they cam frae; it was sae far awa ’at as sane ’s a body hard the name o’ ’t, he forgot it again; but their beasts war as fresh an’ as fu’ o’ smeddum as I tell ye, an’ no a hair o’ ane o’ them turnt. There was jist a deil’s dizzen o’ them, an whaurever ye began to count them, the thirteent had aye a reid baird. “Whan the news was taen to the markis--the yerl, I sud say-- he gae orders to lat them in at ance; for whatever fau’ts he had, naither fear nor hainin’ (_penuriousness_) was amang them. Sae in they cam, clatterin’ ower the drawbrig, ’at gaed up an’ doon aneth them as gien it wad hae cast them. “Richt fremt (_strange_) fowk they luikit whan they cam intill the coort-yaird--a’ spanglet wi’ bonny bricht stanes o’ a’ colours. They war like nae fowk ’at ever the yerl had seen, an’ he had been to Jeroozlem in ’s day, an’ had fouchten wi’ the Saracenes. But they war coorteous men an’ weel-bred--an’ maistly weel-faured tu --ilk ane luikin’ a lord’s son at the least. They had na a single servin’-man wi’ them, an’ wad alloo nane o’ the fowk aboot the place to lay han’ upo’ their beasts; an’ ilk ane as he said _na_, wad gie the stallion aneth him a daig wi’ ’s spurs, or a kick ’i the ribs, gien he was aff o’ ’s back, wi’ the steel tae o’ his bute; an’ the brute wad lay his lugs i’ the how o’ ’s neck, an’ turn his heid asklent, wi’ ae white ee gleyin’ oot o’ ’t, an’ lift a hin’ leg wi’ the glintin’ shue turnt back, an’ luik like Sawtan himsel’ whan he daurna.