"I desire to be carried before some civil magistrate," said the Bailie--"the sherra or the judge of the bounds;--I am not obliged to answer every red-coat that speers questions at me." "Well, sir, I shall know how to manage you if you are silent--And you, sir" (to me), "what may your name be?" "Francis Osbaldistone, sir." "What, a son of Sir Hildebrand Osbaldistone of Northumberland?" "No, sir," interrupted the Bailie; "a son of the great William Osbaldistone of the House of Osbaldistone and Tresham, Crane-Alley, London." "I am afraid, sir," said the officer, "your name only increases the suspicions against you, and lays me under the necessity of requesting that you will give up what papers you have in charge." I observed the Highlanders look anxiously at each other when this proposal was made. "I had none," I replied, "to surrender." The officer commanded me to be disarmed and searched. To have resisted would have been madness. I accordingly gave up my arms, and submitted to a search, which was conducted as civilly as an operation of the kind well could. They found nothing except the note which I had received that night through the hand of the landlady. "This is different from what I expected," said the officer; "but it affords us good grounds for detaining you. Here I find you in written communication with the outlawed robber, Robert MacGregor Campbell, who has been so long the plague of this district--How do you account for that?" "Spies of Rob!" said Inverashalloch. "We wad serve them right to strap them up till the neist tree." "We are gaun to see after some gear o' our ain, gentlemen," said the Bailie, "that's fa'en into his hands by accident--there's nae law agane a man looking after his ain, I hope?" "How did you come by this letter?" said the officer, addressing himself to me. I could not think of betraying the poor woman who had given it to me, and remained silent. "Do you know anything of it, fellow?" said the officer, looking at Andrew, whose jaws were chattering like a pair of castanets at the threats thrown out by the Highlander. "O ay, I ken a' about it--it was a Hieland loon gied the letter to that lang-tongued jaud the gudewife there; I'll be sworn my maister ken'd naething about it. But he's wilfu' to gang up the hills and speak wi' Rob; and oh, sir, it wad be a charity just to send a wheen o' your red-coats to see him safe back to Glasgow again whether he will or no--And ye can keep Mr. Jarvie as lang as ye like--He's responsible enough for ony fine ye may lay on him--and so's my master for that matter; for me, I'm just a puir gardener lad, and no worth your steering."