"Faith! General Dalyel will let ye ken, friend Hab, that a thrawn craig or six ounce bullets are the price Scottish of winking on duty. Ye'll be shot like a cock-patrick. I pity thee, Hab--d--mme if I don't; you've blawn your matches by my side on many a hot day's work, and bleezed away your bandoliers in the face o' English, Dutch, and German; but my heart granes for the punishment ye'll dree." "You are all either donnart or drunk!" exclaimed the incensed soldier; "if the ladies were in the chamber when I first mounted guard, I swear by my father's soul, they are there yet for me. I neither slept nor stirred from the door; so they maun either have flown up the lum or whistled through the keyhole----" "Didst ever hear of a noble lady playing cantrips o' witchcraft like a wife o' the Kailmercat, or that auld whaislin besom, your mother, down by St. Roque?" "What for no?--it rins in the family, this same science o' witchcraft, gif a' tales be true." "See if such a braw story will pass muster with Sir Thomas Dalyel. Cocknails! I think I see every hair o' his lang beard glistening and bristling with rage!" "And he will mind that my father was a staunch vassal o' the Napiers!" added the poor musqueteer, in great consternation at the idea of confronting that ferocious commander. "What can I do or say?--O help me, Master Walter! Would to God I had been piked or shot at Sedgemoor!" "Wemyss," said Walter, advancing at this juncture, just as the serjeant was unbuckling the soldier's collar of bandoliers. "The ladies are gone where I hope none, save friends, will find them. Elshender is innocent, for I freed them, and must bear the punishment for doing so; but next time, comarade Hab, you take over such a post, see that your wards are in it." "I had your word, Mr. Fenton," replied the musqueteer in a voice between sorrow and joy; "your word at least in the sense, and we alway deemed you a gentleman of honour, though but a puir soldier-lad like mysel." "True, true," replied Walter, colouring; "will not the generosity of my purpose excuse the deceit?" "Why, Mr. Fenton, I wish weel to the auld house, for I was born and bred under its shadow, and mony o' my kin hae laid down their lives in its service, and I can excuse it----" "D'ye think my Lord Chancellor will, though?" asked the Macer sharply, as he bustled forward, "or His Majesty's advocat for His Majesty's interest?"