All immediately closed with this proposal, and some went to work with swords and knives to cut down the alder and hawthorn bushes which grew by the side of the sluggish stream, many of which were sufficiently decayed and dried for their purpose, while others began to collect them in a large stack, properly disposed for burning, as close to the iron-grate as they could be piled. Fire was speedily obtained from one of their guns, and Hobbie was already advancing to the pile with a kindled brand, when the surly face of the robber, and the muzzle of a musquetoon, were partially shown at a shot-hole which flanked the entrance. “Mony thanks to ye,” he said, scoffingly, “for collecting sae muckle winter eilding for us; but if ye step a foot nearer it wi’ that lunt, it’s be the dearest step ye ever made in your days.” “We’ll sune see that,” said Hobbie, advancing fearlessly with the torch. The marauder snapped his piece at him, which, fortunately for our honest friend, did not go off; while Earnscliff, firing at the same moment at the narrow aperture and slight mark afforded by the robber’s face, grazed the side of his head with a bullet. He had apparently calculated upon his post affording him more security, for he no sooner felt the wound, though a very slight one, than he requested a parley, and demanded to know what they meant by attacking in this fashion a peaceable and honest man, and shedding his blood in that lawless manner? “We want your prisoner,” said Earnscliff, “to be delivered up to us in safety.” “And what concern have you with her?” replied the marauder. “That,” retorted Earnscliff, “you, who are detaining her by force, have no right to enquire.” “Aweel, I think I can gie a guess,” said the robber. “Weel, sirs, I am laith to enter into deadly feud with you by spilling ony of your bluid, though Earnscliff hasna stopped to shed mine--and he can hit a mark to a groat’s breadth--so, to prevent mair skaith, I am willing to deliver up the prisoner, since nae less will please you.” “And Hobbie’s gear?” cried Simon of Hackburn. “D’ye think you’re to be free to plunder the faulds and byres of a gentle Elliot, as if they were an auld wife’s hens’-cavey?” “As I live by bread,” replied Willie of Westburnflat “As I live by bread, I have not a single cloot o’ them! They’re a’ ower the march lang syne; there’s no a horn o’ them about the tower. But I’ll see what o’ them can be gotten back, and I’ll take this day twa days to meet Hobbie at the Castleton wi’ twa friends on ilka side, and see to make an agreement about a’ the wrang he can wyte me wi’.” “Ay, ay,” said Elliot, “that will do weel eneugh.”--And then aside to his kinsman, “Murrain on the gear! Lordsake, man! say nought about them. Let us but get puir Grace out o’ that auld hellicat’s clutches.”