we here?’ If ye had but seen how they lookit when they stertit up; od, ye wad hae thought they were twa scoundrels wakened frae the dead! I never saw twa mair hemp–looking dogs in my life. ‘What are ye feared for, lads? Whaten twa blades are ye? Or what are ye seeking in sic a place as this?’ ‘This is a derk day, gudeman.’ ‘This is a derk day, gudeman! That’s sic an answer as I heard never. I wish ye wad tell me something I dinna ken—and that’s wha ye are, and what ye’re seeking here?’ ‘We’re seeking nought o’ yours, friend.’ ‘I dinna believe a word o’t—ye’re nae folk o’ this country—I doubt ye ken o’er weel what stealing o’ sheep is—But if ye winna tell me plainly and honestly your business here, the deil be my inmate gin I winna knock your twa heads thegither.’ ‘There is a gude auld say, honest man, _It is best to let sleeping dogs lie, they may rise and bite you_.’ ‘Bite _me_, lad!—Rise an’ bite _me_!—I wad like to see a dog on a’ the heights o’ Chapelhope that wad snarl at me, let be to bite!’ “I had a gay steeve dour aik stick in my hand, an’ wi’ that I begoud to heave’t up, no to strike them, but just to gi’e them a glisk o’ the coming–on that was in’t. By this time they were baith on their feet; and the ane that was neist me he gi’es the tabie of his jockey–coat a fling back, and out he pu’s a braid sword frae aneath it—an’ wi’ the same blink the ither whups a sma’ spear out o’ the heart o’ his aik stick, ‘Here’s for ye then, auld camstary,’ says they; ‘an unlucky fish gets an unlucky bait.’ Od sir, I was rather stoundit; I began to look o’er my shouther, but there was naething there but the swathes o’ mist. What wad I hae gien for twa minutes of auld John o’ the Muchrah! However, there was nae time to lose—it was come fairly to the neb o’ the mire–snipe wi’ me. I never was gude when taken by surprise a’ my life—gie me a wee time, an’ I turn quite foundemental then—sae, to tell the truth, in my hurry I took the flier’s part, flang the plaid frae me, and ran off up the hag as fast as my feet could carry me, an’ a’ the gate the ragamuffian wi’ the sword was amaist close at my heels. The bottom o’ the hag was very narrow, twa could hardly rin abreast. My very bluid began to rise at being chased by twa skebels, and I thought I heard a voice within me, crying, ‘Dinna flee, Wat Laidlaw! dinna flee, auld Wat! ye hae a gude cause by the end!’ I wheeled just round in a moment, sir, and drew a desperate straik at the foremost, an’ sae little kend the haniel about fencing, that instead o’ sweeing aff my downcome wi’ his sword, he held up his sword–arm to save his head—I gart his arm just snap like a pipe–stapple, and down fell his bit whittle to the ground, and he on aboon it. The tither, wi’ his sma’ spear, durstna come on, but ran for it; I followed, and was mettler o’ foot than he, but I durstna grip him, for fear he had run his bit spit through my sma–fairns i’ the struggle, for it was as sharp as a lance, but I keepit a little