The shirt upon his back was of fine Holland, his doubtlet, over that, was of Lincoln twine, his buttons were of the good gold, the mouths of his good grey hounds were dyed with blood." Now Johnie, like many another free-hearted outlaw, was a well-liked man. So the chief forester said, "If this be Johnie of Breadislee we will draw no nearer." But this was not the spirit of his men. Quoth the sixth Forester, "If it indeed be he, rather let us slay him." Cautiously they went through the thicket, and when they saw their man, asleep and helpless, they shot a flight of arrows. Johnie sprang up, sore wounded on the knee. The seventh forester cried out, "The next flight will kill him," but little chance did the outlaw give them for such an easy victory. He set his back against an oak and propped his wounded leg upon a stone; with bow or with sword he was a better man by far than any of his foes. In the short, sharp fight that followed, he killed six of the foresters, some with arrow, and some with steel; and when the seventh turned to flee, Johnie seized him from behind and threw him on to the ground with a force that broke three of his ribs. Then he laid him on his steed, and bade him carry the tidings home. [Illustration: _Johnie of Breadislee_] But Johnie himself was hurt to death. "Is there no bonnie singing bird," he cried, "that can fly to my mother’s bower and tell her to fetch Johnie away?" A starling flew to his mother’s window sill, and sang and whistled, and the burden of its tune was ever the same. "Johnie tarries long." So the men made a litter from rods of the hazel bush and of the thorn and fetched Johnie away. Then his old mother’s tears flowed fast, and she said, "Ye would not be warned, my son Johnie, to bide away from the hunting. Oft have I brought to Breadislee the less or greater gear, but never what grieved my heart so sorely. But woe betide that silly old grey-headed carle! An ill death shall he die! The highest tree in Merriemass shall be his reward." "Now Johnie’s gude bent bow is brake, And his gude grey dogs are slain, And his body lies dead in Durrisdeer, And his hunting it is done." *Chapter XVII* *Katharine Janfarie* This ballad is evidently the original of Sir Walter Scott’s "Lochinvar," though Sir Walter reversed the names of the two leading male characters. In "Katharine Janfarie" Lochinvar plays the part of the craven bridegroom. There was a may,[#] and a weel-far’d may, Lived high up in yon glen; Her name was Katharine Janfarie, She was courted by mony men. [#] maiden. Up there came Lord Lauderdale, Up frae the Lowland Border, And he has come to court this may, A’ mounted in good order. He told na her father, he told na her mother, And he told na ane o’ her kin, But he whispered the bonnie lassie hersell, And has her favour won.