Thus much Donald Dhu, and he was a good man and died linking down the brae with his men true, behind John Graham at Killiecrankie in the fulness of time--which was better work than, as he said, "pluff-pluffin' poother at puir lawlan tykes." But when Westerhall saw that the Highland birses were up, and that he would in no wise obey orders, he ordered some of his own scoundrels to do the thing. For his black heart was set on the shooting of the lad. Then I could endure no longer, but ran forward as if to save him, crying out to them that he was innocent, and but a lad at any rate, which mightily angered Westerhall. "Stell up the yae rebel whelp beside the other!" he said; and I believe that had we been alone with the Annandale men, they would have done it. But Clavers said: "Let be! Take away young Earlstoun to the knowe-tap!" So they led me off, fairly girning with anger and impotence. For once I longed for Sandy's brute strength to charge at them like a bull with the head down. "Lochinvar!" I cried, as they forced me away. "To me, Lochinvar!" But, alas! my cousin was off on some of his own ploys, and came not till too late. As you shall hear. Then when the men were in rank to fire, Westerhall bid Andrew Herries draw down his blue bonnet over his eyes. But he was a lad of most undaunted courage, and though he had come so meekly to the slaughter, now he spoke out boldly enough. "I wad raither dee," he said, "in the face o' a' men and the plain licht o' God. I hae dune nocht to make me shamed afore my death-bringers. Though, being but young, I hae but little testimony to gie, an' nae great experience o' religion to speak aboot. The end has come ower quick on me for that!" Then they asked him, as was their custom, if he had aught to say before sentence should take effect upon him. "Nocht in particular," he said, "but there's a book here (and he pulled a little Bible out of his breast) that you an' me will be judged by. I wish I had read mair earnestly in it an' profited better by it. But at ony rate I aye carried it to read at the herdin', and my time has been cut short." "Make haste," they said, "we haena time to taigle wi' ye." "And I hae as little desire to taigle you," he said, "but I am glad that I didna grudge the puir Westland man my best plaid for his last covering, though there be none to do as muckle for me." The fire rang out. The blue wreaths of smoke rose level, and there on the green sward, with his face to the sky, and his Bible yet in his hand, lay the widow's son, Andrew Herries, very still. "So perish all the King's rebels," cried Westerhall loudly, as it were, to give the black deed a colour of law. But John Graham said never a word, only lifted his hat and then rode away with a countenance like the granite stone of the mountain. CHAPTER XII. WE RIDE TO EDINBURGH.