‘Were he ten times warden,’ the Reformer heard him say, ‘he should not drive horses, with impunity, from my side the March. Does my Lord Scrope think that James Hepburn has been superseded at Hermitage? or that I am a likely man to submit to the slight he has endeavoured to put upon me? Faith, not while this arm of mine can lay lance in the rest. If you come across the English warden, Dick Rutherford, you shall cast James Hepburn’s defiance in his teeth. Within twenty-one days, alone, or with his following, on foot or on horseback, with spear, sword, or axe, and not more than three English miles from the border, I challenge him to meet me, if he be a man, and “God defend the right!” Have you picked the horses?’ he added, abruptly, and turning with a soldier’s eye to scan the troop. ‘I cast the twa four-year-aulds,’ answered Dick, ‘an’ I waled the soar[6] and the three bays, forbye the white-footed yane, an’ I’m ridin’ Wanton Willie mysel’. Gin I track the drove to Peel-fell, will I follow them into Cumberland?’ [6] Sorrel or chestnut--next to bay, the favourite colour of the borderers. ‘Follow them to hell!’ answered Bothwell. ‘I will have that gray gelding back if he is stabled in Carlisle. I’ll have him from under Lord Scrope himself, if the Englishman never gets across a horse again. What! there is peace between the two countries, more’s the pity, or I had been at his castle-gate by this time with all Teviotdale at my back; and so you may tell him, if you can meet with him under steel.’ ‘They might ha’ been ta’en by the Langholme lads,’ interposed Dick, whose spirits were rising considerably with the prospect of a foray, but who looked upon the whole affair, nevertheless, as a matter of business combined with wholesome recreation. ‘They lifted a score o’ runts frae “daft Davie,” in Lammas time, an’ took the vara’ coverlet aff his wife’s bed. He saw it himsel’ at Dumfries, puir fallow!’ ‘Nay, nay,’ answered Bothwell, ‘the Langholme riders do not come down by the score, with dags, and petronels, and St George’s cross on their basnets. If it’s not a warden-raid, as, indeed, it can hardly be, it has been done by the warden’s orders; and he shall answer it to me as sure as I serve Queen Mary! At least, with all her pride, she shall know that Bothwell never suffered it to be lowered an inch,’ he muttered between his teeth as he turned away.