"Then no farther time must be lost," broke in Sir Robert. "Do you, Livingstone, Bruce, and Douglas station yourselves at the three windows overlooking the scene of action; and the instant the rascals attempt to set fire to the wood, send a volley amongst them, whilst we steal round by the side postern and attack them on the rear. I think that will settle the business," said Sir Robert with a laugh, as he cautiously descended the stair, closely followed by his companions. In the meantime, as notified by Cornet Douglas, Walter Henderson and his party were proceeding noiselessly and rapidly with their operations, and already a considerable portion of their labour had been accomplished. The increasing darkness of the night favoured their project, the moon, which in the former part of the evening shone with a brilliancy that in some measure threatened to frustrate their schemes, having veiled her brightness behind huge masses of leaden-coloured clouds which slowly drifted along the sky. It formed a strange and striking picture this old castle of Lag, rising, as it did, amid a wide extent of flat, desolate moor-land which stretched away in the distance until relieved by a range of bare irregular looking hills bounding the prospect. So thought one of the party, William Hislop by name, as in common with his comrades, he proceeded leisurely to pile up around the castle walls huge blocks of wood destined, as he imagined, to level it with the ground. In conjunction with this thought, he remarked to one of his companions that it was a lonesome-looking place, and that for his part he did not quite like the task they were engaged in, adding, by way of consolation, "if that old vulture, Lag, gets us atween his claws, it’s little flesh we’ll hae on our backs when aince we get out o’ them." "Why, then, did you join us if such were your feelings?" said the person addressed. "I am sure had Walter Henderson known you had no love for the undertaking, he would not have pressed you to come hither." "It’s not that I think we are doing anything wrong in burning doon the castle—no, no; the bloody persecutor, as he is, weel deserves it at our hands, and I felt rale brave and anxious about the doing o’ the same, when Walter Henderson brought it hame to our souls in the manner he did; but somehow or another the case looks different now, and it’s such an eerie-looking bit to be meddling wi’ at this time o’ night, that——" "Hear till that, man!" suddenly exclaimed his by no means comfortable companion in a low tone of voice. "Hear till what?" cried William Hislop, now fairly started out of all composure by this sudden exclamation. "Tush, man," he said after a moment’s pause, "it’s only an owlet screaming; do you no’ see it up by yonder?" and they both stood still a while to observe the bird which wheeled in rapid circles around the castle, screaming and flapping its wings as though to apprise the inmates of the terrible danger that menaced them.