’That,’ said the minister, meditating, ’is a little forth of my province. But, if ye will know, I think it is in the keeping of some of Auchendrayne’s tools. And I advise you, ere ye look for revenge, to go seek for it.’ I was silent, for I hoped that he would tell me yet more. ’The treasure of Kelwood will lead you to your aim. I think ye will find that the same hands which reft it away are red with the blood of your master. And one thing I am sure of—that within that treasure chest lie your love, your land, and your lordship!’ I asked him what he meant, but he would not tell me more clearly. Only this he said, speaking like them that have the second sight,— ’James Stuart being what he is—a treasure-seeker—and John, Earl of Cassillis, being what he is—a treasure-gripper—if ye find the kist, ye have them both in your hand. And therein (or I am a false prophet) lie, as I say, your love, your land, and your lordship.’ Then I asked him if he had any counsel to give me ere I went. ’Be brave,’ he said, ’read your Testament. Tell no lies. Carry no tales. Seek carefully for the man that wears the grey cloak, and then for the man that runs like a beast and carries the knife in his teeth.’ He went to the window as one that has spoken his last word. ’Hear ye that?’ he said. ’That is the warrant for my heading.’ There circulated a great crowd of people without, apprentices and suchlike mostly, with here and there among them a decent, responsible man of the trades. They were singing at the utmost pitch of their voices:— ’We’ll hae nae mair Jeems Davie-son, Davie’s son—Davie’s son! We’ll gie his loons the spavie sune, Spavie sune, spavie sune, An’ the deil may tak Jeems Davie-son.’ ’They might as well shear my head at once as sing that song,’ said Maister Robert Bruce. ’There is nothing that James Stuart likes so ill as to be called the son of Davie, unless it be the man who upholds the right of private judgment!’ ’Ah,’ he cried again, ’the Blue Blanket—this waxes serious. I must put on my gown and sally forth.’ Then up the Canon gate there came a great crowd of citizens all marching together and crying, ’God and the Kirk! God and the Kirk!’ And in the midst there was borne the famous flag that has ever staggered in the front of a bicker, foretelling storms and the shaking of thrones—the Blue Blanket of the trades of Edinburgh. Robert Bruce drew his black Geneva gown about him, and taking his little Bible and his oak staff in his hand he went out. As he stood forth upon his step, he was hailed with shouts of joy and rejoicing. ’Hearken Maister Bruce! Hear the minister! God and the Kirk! Doon wi’ Jeemie Fat-Breeks!’