"Now, William Hislop, now or never!" With these words, addressed to himself, the impatient Covenanter again ventured forth from the place of his concealment. This time the owl kindly forebore screaming; but stationed itself on the branch of a tree overhanging the courtyard, from which elevation it gazed on the intruder with eyes that seemed to emit sparks of fire, as though questioning his right to depart. Creeping cautiously along, under shadow of the wall, William Hislop managed to gain, unobserved, that portion of it which admitted of an easy descent on the other side. This position attained, his courage in some measure revived, and pausing a moment to shake his hand at the owl before taking his final leap, he muttered between his teeth, "There now, ye may gang and tell your hopeful master, from me, that maybe there ’ill be mair company assembled on Lag Hill, on the morning o’ the execution, than he wots o’," and with these mysterious words, accompanied by another gesture of defiance, William Hislop darted from off the wall, and rapidly disappeared amidst the gloom of the early morning. About two miles to the south of the village of Dunscore, in a little valley, sheltered by mountains from every blast that swept over the neighbouring heath, stood the form belonging to the deceased Elias Henderson. The house pertaining to the farm partook of the usual appearance of farm-houses in Scotland, at the period of which we write, and was scrupulously clean and attractive in its exterior; while the well-stocked yard and barns bespoke the thrifty farmer. Indeed, few persons following this precarious occupation could boast of greater success than had fallen to the lot of Elias Henderson.