Edie leaped into the grave and began to strike; but he soon tired or pretended to tire. So he called out to the German that turn and turn about was fair play. Whereupon, fired with the desire for wealth, Dousterswivel began to strike and shovel the earth with all his might, while Edie encouraged him, standing very much at his ease by the side of the hole. "At it again," he cried; "strike--strike! What for are ye stopping, man?" "Stopping," cried the German, angrily, looking out of the grave at his tormentor; "I am down at the bed-rock, I tell you!" "And that's the likeliest place of any," said Edie; "it will just be a big broad stone laid down to cover the treasure. Ah, that's it! There was a Wallace stroke indeed! It's broken! Hurrah, boys, there goes Ringan's pickaxe! It's a shame o' the Fairport folk to sell such frail gear. Try the shovel; at it again, Maister Dousterdeevil!" But this time the German, without replying, leaped out of the pit, and shouted in a voice that trembled with anger, "Does you know, Mr. Edie Ochiltree, who it is you are putting off your gibes and your jests upon? You base old person, I will cleave your skull-piece with this shovels!" "Ay," said Edie, "and where do ye think my pike-staff would be a' the time?" But Dousterswivel, growing more and more furious, heaved up the broken pickaxe to smite his tormentor dead--which, indeed, he might have done had not Edie, suddenly pointing with his hand, exclaimed in a stern voice, "Do ye think that heaven and earth will suffer ye to murder an auld man that gate--a man that might be your father? _Look behind you, man!_" Dousterswivel turned, and beheld, to his utter astonishment, a tall dark figure standing close behind him. Whether this was the angry Misticot or not, the newcomer certainly lifted a sturdy staff and laid it across the rascal's back, bestowing on him half-a-dozen strokes so severe that he fell to the ground, where he lay some minutes half unconscious with pain and terror. When the German came to himself, he was lying close to Misticot's open grave on the soft earth which had been thrown out. He began to turn his mind to projects of revenge. It must, he thought, be either Monkbarns or Sir Arthur who had done this, in order to be revenged upon him. And his mind finally deciding upon the latter, as most likely to have set Edie Ochiltree on to deceive him, he determined from that moment to achieve the ruin of his "dear and honoured patron" of the last five years. As he left the precincts of the ruined Priory, he continued his vows of vengeance against Edie and all associated with him. He had, he declared aloud, been assaulted and murdered, besides being robbed of fifty pounds as well. He would, on the very next day, put the law in motion "against all the peoples"--but against Edie Ochiltree first of all. A QUITE SUPERFLUOUS INTERLUDE