But if all failed, the _Leges Marchiarum_ had still elaborate provisions to meet his case. He had a shrewd guess who were his assailants. The more noted moss-troopers were “kenspeckle folk.” The very fact that so many had the same surname caused them to be distinguished by what were called “to-names,” based on some physical or moral characteristic, which even to-day photographs the man for us. Such were Eddie Great-legs, Jock Half-lugs, Red-neb Hob, Little Jock Elliott, Wynkyng Wyll, Wry-crag, Ill Wild Will, Evil Willie, David the Leddy, Hob the King; or some event in a man’s history provided a “to-name.” Ill Drooned Geordy, you fancy, had barely escaped a righteous doom, and Archie Fire-the-Braes was sure a swashbuckler of the first magnitude. Others derived from their father’s name. The Lairdis Jok All with him takis. Thus, Sir Thomas Maitland, who has preserved some of these appellations in his _Complainte Aganis the Thievis of Liddisdail_, apparently the only weapon he--though Scots Chancellor--could use against them. Other names, the chroniclers affirm, are more expressive still; but modern prudery forbids their recovery. They were good enough headmark, whatever their quality; and a harried household had but to hear one shouted in or after the harrying to know who the harriers were. The slogan, or war-cry, of the clan would rap out in the excitement, and there again he knew his men. The cross of St. Andrew showed them to be Scots, the cross of St. George affirmed them English. A letter sewn in a cap, a kerchief round the arm, were patent identification. The chieftain’s banner was borne now and again, even in a daylight foray--a mode affected by the more daring spirits.