“We will put that to a fair trial,” said the Antiquary; and the Baronet’s equipage being ordered, Miss Wardour received an intimation from her father, that she was to remain at Monkbarns until his return from an airing. The young lady was somewhat at a loss to reconcile this direction with the communication which she supposed must have passed between Sir Arthur and the Antiquary; but she was compelled, for the present, to remain in a most unpleasant state of suspense. The journey of the treasure-seekers was melancholy enough. Dousterswivel maintained a sulky silence, brooding at once over disappointed expectation and the risk of punishment; Sir Arthur, whose golden dreams had been gradually fading away, surveyed, in gloomy prospect, the impending difficulties of his situation; and Oldbuck, who perceived that his having so far interfered in his neighbours affairs gave the Baronet a right to expect some actual and efficient assistance, sadly pondered to what extent it would be necessary to draw open the strings of his purse. Thus each being wrapped in his own unpleasant ruminations, there was hardly a word said on either side, until they reached the Four Horse-shoes, by which sign the little inn was distinguished. They procured at this place the necessary assistance and implements for digging, and, while they were busy about these preparations, were suddenly joined by the old beggar, Edie Ochiltree. “The Lord bless your honour,” began the Blue-Gown, with the genuine mendicant whine, “and long life to you!--weel pleased am I to hear that young Captain M’Intyre is like to be on his legs again sune--Think on your poor bedesman the day.” “Aha, old true-penny!” replied the Antiquary. “Why, thou hast never come to Monkbarns since thy perils by rock and flood--here’s something for thee to buy snuff,”--and, fumbling for his purse, he pulled out at the same time the horn which enclosed the coins. “Ay, and there’s something to pit it in,” said the mendicant, eyeing the ram’s horn--“that loom’s an auld acquaintance o’ mine. I could take my aith to that sneeshing-mull amang a thousand--I carried it for mony a year, till I niffered it for this tin ane wi’ auld George Glen, the dammer and sinker, when he took a fancy till’t doun at Glen-Withershins yonder.” “Ay! indeed?” said Oldbuck;--“so you exchanged it with a miner? but I presume you never saw it so well filled before”--and opening it, he showed the coins. “Troth, ye may swear that, Monkbarns: when it was mine it neer had abune the like o’ saxpenny worth o’ black rappee in’t at ance. But I reckon ye’ll be gaun to mak an antic o’t, as ye hae dune wi’ mony an orra thing besides. Od, I wish anybody wad mak an antic o’ me; but mony ane will find worth in rousted bits o’ capper and horn and airn, that care unco little about an auld carle o’ their ain country and kind.”