We dismounted leisurely from our horses, and reined them loosely to the rings in the louping-on stone at the house end. Then Maister Bruce strode forward and stood in front of the old man, who had never for a moment noticed us nor ceased from his earth-shaking cursings. Not until the tall and dark figure of the Minister had blotted out the point of the hill towards which he looked, did the old man intermit his speech. Then he drew his hand slowly across his brow, and threw his head back as if to distinguish whether it were indeed a living man who stood before him. ’I am Robert Bruce, Minister of the Town of Edinburgh,’ said my companion, ’and I come from His Majesty the King of Scotland, to bid you make an end of this evil and universal regardlessness, which has polluted the whole country with cruelty and dissension, with public factions and private deadly feuds—’ Old David Crauford leaned forward in his chair and set his hand to his ear, as though he had not heard a word of the Minister’s speech. ’What say ye, man?’ he cried, testily, like one who is stayed from his purpose by childish pranks. ’I say,’ said the Minister, stoutly, ’that the disquieting of the lieges with jacks, breast-plates, plate-sleeves, and pistols is as much dishonouring to God as it is distasteful to His Majesty the King—’ ’Hear ye me, my man. Hae ye done?’ said old David, glowering at him. ’Are you a Christian man?’ said the Minister, sternly, ’or,’ he added, as if on second thoughts, ’a loyal subject of King James the Sixth?’ ’Christian!’ cried the old man with great indignation. ’Do you speer me gin I am a Christian? Man, do ye no ken that I am an Ayrshireman? An’ as for a loyal subject of King Jamie, man, I hae been four score year and ten in the world, and proud am I to say that three score and sax o’ them hae been at the King’s Horn for rebel and outlaw—an’ never a penny the waur o’ either, being ever willing and able to keep my ain heid and haud my ain land again baith prince and Providence!’ ’Old man,’ said the Minister, sternly, ’ken ye that ye speak blasphemies. Know ye not that for every word ye utter, God shall enter into judgment with you?’ ’Verra likely,’ said David Crauford, drily. ’Stand oot o’ my licht, man, I canna see through ye. Gin ye dinna, this pistol will enter into judgment wi’ you.’ The Minister stepped aside—not, as I think, at all for fear of the pistol, but despairing of reaching the conscience of such a seared and battered heathen. Then suddenly the old man rose from his seat as one that sees a heavenly vision. His face appeared transfigured and shining, and, with his white hair falling on his shoulders, I declare he looked like the Apostle Andrew in the Papish window of the High Kirk of Edinburgh. ’I see him! I see him!’ he cried. ’He comes with the tidings of battle.’