"If I stand!" exclaimed Clennel, "it shall not be when an old man and a boy command me." And, following their example, he unsheathed his sword. "Boy!" exclaimed the youth; "whom call ye boy?--think ye, because ye wounded me this morn, that fortune shall aye sit on your arm?--yield or try." They made several thrusts at each other, and the old man, as an indifferent spectator, stood looking on. But the youth, by a dexterous blow, shivered the sword in Clennel's hand, and left him at his mercy. "Now yield ye," he exclaimed; "the chance is mine now--in the morning it was thine." "Ye seem a fair foe," replied Clennel, "and loath am I to yield, but that I am weaponless." "Despatch him at once!" growled the old man. "If he spilled your blood in the morning, there can be no harm in spilling his the night--and especially after giein' him a fair chance." "Father," returned the youth, "would ye have me to kill a man in cold blood?" "Let him submit to be bound then, hands and eyes, or I will," cried the senior. The younger obeyed, and Clennel, finding himself disarmed, submitted to his fate; and his hands were bound, and his eyes tied up, so that he knew not where they led him. After wandering many miles, and having lain upon what appeared the cold earth for a lodging, he was aroused from a comfortless and troubled sleep, by a person tearing the bandage from his eyes, and ordering him to prepare for his trial. He started to his feet. He looked around, and beheld that he stood in the midst of a gipsy encampment. He was not a man given to fear, but a sickness came over his heart when he thought of his wife and daughter, and that, knowing the character of the people in whose power he was, he should never behold them again. The males of the Faa tribe began to assemble in a sort of half circle in the area of the encampment, and in the midst of them, towering over the heads of all, he immediately distinguished the tall figure of Willie Faa, in whom he also discovered the grey-haired Parliamentary soldier of the previous night. But the youth with whom he had twice contended and once wounded, and by whom he had been made prisoner, he was unable to single out amongst them. He was rudely dragged before them, and Willie Faa cried--"Ken ye the culprit?" "Clennel o' Northumberland!--our enemy!" exclaimed twenty voices. "Yes," continued Willie, "Clennel, our enemy--the burner o' our humble habitations--that left the auld, the sick, the infirm, and the helpless, and the infants o' our kindred to perish in the flaming ruins. Had we burned his house, the punishment would have been death; and shall we do less to him than he would do to us?" "No! no!" they exclaimed with one voice. "But," added Willie, "though he would have disgraced us wi' a gallows, as he has been a soldier, I propose that he hae the honour o' a soldier's death, and that Harry Faa be appointed to shoot him." "All! all! all!" was the cry.