"It's an excuse for a rest," she confessed. "The old moss-troopers used to ride this way to ravage Cumberland. It was advisable for them to follow hidden paths among the moors, and once an interesting little skirmish took place among those brakes down the hollow." She pointed toward a spot where the ravine widened into a level strip of quaggy grass and moss which glowed a brilliant emerald. On either side of it a gnarled and stunted growth of alders and birches fringed the foot of the steep slopes, and between them the stream spread out across a stretch of milk-white stones. The hollow was flooded with light and filled with the soft murmur of running water. "It would be a strong place to hold, if the defenders had time to choose their ground," Lisle remarked. "So it proved," replied his companion. "Well, once upon a time, a bold Scots reaver, riding south, saw a maid who pleased him near a Cumberland pele. His admiration was not reciprocated, but he came again, often, though being an armed thief by profession there was a price upon his head. It is stated that on each occasion he returned unaccompanied by any of the cattle belonging to his lady's relatives, which was an unusual piece of forbearance. In those days, men must have been able to disassociate business from their love-making." "Don't they do so now?" Lisle inquired lazily. She looked at him with a smile which had a hint of real bitterness in its light mockery. "Not often, one would imagine. Perhaps they can't be blamed--I'm afraid we're all given to cultivating dreadfully expensive tastes. No doubt, when it was needful, the Border chieftain of the story could live on oatmeal and water, and instead of buying pedigree hunters he probably stole his pony. He haunted the neighborhood of the pele until the maid became afraid and urged her kinsmen to rid her of him. Several of them tried and failed--which wasn't surprising." "Love made him invulnerable?" Lisle suggested. "No," retorted his companion. "A man with a heart constant and stout enough to face the risks he ran would be hard to kill. When you read between the lines, it's a moving tale. Think of the long, perilous rides he made through an enemy's land, all for a glance at his disdainful lady! They watched the fords in those days, but neither brawling rivers nor well-mounted horsemen could stop him. At last, he came one night with a dozen spears, broke in the barmkin gate and carried her off. All her relatives rode hard after them and came up with them in this ghyll. Then there happened what was, in one way, a rather remarkable thing--the abducted maid firmly declined to be rescued. There was a brisk encounter, I believe two or three were killed; but she rode off to Scotland with her lover. I suppose I needn't point the moral?" "I can see only the ancient one--that it's unwise to take a lady's 'No' as conclusive," Lisle ventured. She laughed at him in a daring manner.