The next tale takes us to the neighbourhood of Belford, and out upon the old post road from London to Edinburgh. In the unsettled times of James the Second’s reign, one Sir John Cochrane of Ochiltree was condemned to death for his part in the rising which was led by the Duke of Argyle. Powerful friends, heavily bribed by Sir John’s father, the Earl of Dundonald, were working in Sir John’s favour, and they had strong hopes of obtaining a pardon. But meanwhile, Sir John lay in the Tolbooth at Edinburgh, and the warrant for his execution was already on its way northward, in the post-bag carried forward by horseman after horseman throughout the length of the way. Could the arrival of the warrant only be delayed by some means, his life might be saved. In this strait, his daughter Grizzel, a girl of eighteen, conceived the desperate idea of preventing the warrant’s reaching its destination. Saying nothing to anyone of her intentions, she stole away from home, and rode swiftly to the Border. Following the road for about four miles on the English side, she arrived at the house of her old nurse; and here she changed her clothes, persuading the old dame to lend her a suit belonging to her foster-brother. Making her way southward, she went to the inn at Belford where the riders carrying the mail usually put up for the night. Here, the same night, came the postman, and the seeming youth watched nervously, but determinedly, for an opportunity of finding out whether the fateful paper was in his bag or not. No slightest chance presented itself, however, and an attempt to obtain the mail-bag during the night failed by reason of the fact that the man slept upon it. One thing she did accomplish, which gave her hope that the encounter for which she was nerving herself might end successfully for her; she managed, unseen, to draw the charges from his pistols. Then the courageous girl rode off through the dark night to select a favourable spot in which to await his coming. For two or three lonely hours she waited, the thought that she was fighting for her father’s life giving her courage. In the dim light of the early dawn she heard the sound of his horse’s hoofs from where she stood in the shadow of a clump of trees; and steeling herself for the part she was to play, and in ignorance of whether he might have found out that the charges had been withdrawn from his pistols and might have re-loaded them, she waited until he was almost abreast of her, and fired at his horse, bringing it down. Before he could extricate himself she was upon him with drawn sword; but promising to spare his life if he would let her have the mail-bag, she seized it and darted away. He attempted to follow to recover his charge, but she reached her horse, and rode off like the wind. When she reached a