Hannah Macaulay’s description of her bodily condition erred on the side of self-depreciation. The one foot which remained out of the grave carried her across the kitchen floor with remarkable speed. She took the poker now red, almost white, hot at the end, darted back to the door, and flung it open. With a wild whoop she rushed at the two yeomen who stood on the threshold. There were other yells besides her’s, a smell of burning cloth and singed flesh, a hurried treading of feet, and a clattering of the hoofs of frightened horses. Hannah sent into the night a peal of derisive laughter, and then turned into the house and shut the door. “I said I’d sort them,” she chuckled, “and I’ve sorted them rightly. Yin o’ them will carry a mark on his mug to the day of his death, and lucky if he hasn’t lost the sight of an eye. There’ll be a hole in the breeks of the other that’ll tak a quare width of cloth to make a patch for it. And, what’s more, thon man’ll no sit easy on his horse for a bit. They’ll not be for chasing Master Neal the night any way. But, faith, this house will be no place for me the morrow. I’ll just tak my wee bit duds under my arm and away with me up to Dunseveric House. Miss Una’ll take me in when she hears the tale I ha’ to tell. I’d like to see the yeos or the sojers either that would fetch me out of the ould lord’s kitchen. If they tak to ravishing and rieving the master’s plenishins I canna help it. Better a ravished house nor a murdered woman.” Neal got out of the window, and once more crossed the meadow. He lay for a minute in the ditch beside the road listening intently. He feared that he might have been tracked home, that the house might be surrounded, and that escape might be difficult or impossible. But there was no sound of any sort on the road--neither voices of men, treading of horses, or jangling of accoutrements. Evidently the men at the door of the manse were no more than a patrol. They were entering the house out of wanton desire to annoy Hannah Macaulay or on the chance of discovering there something which might give them a clue--not because they actually suspected that he was within. He heard the crash of the first kick on the door, rose from the ditch, crossed the road, and took to the edge of the cliffs again. He walked quickly, frightened and shaken. He started into a breathless run when Hannah’s battle whoop reached him on the still air. He heard distinctly the men’s shrieks, and even the noise of the runaway horses galloping on the hard road. He went the faster--a mad terror driving him.