Will would take none of those hints; he followed his uncourteous host about and about, till at last he fairly holded him beyond the fire; and then he took his seat over against him and conversed on, while his companions dropped in one by one and joined in it. For a while they got it all to themselves, but at length Pate, not being able to make better of it, suffered himself to be drawn in by degrees to join them, still preserving the same strain of disingeniousness. They asked who the two handsome striplings were that attended him, and spread the board with provisions? He answered that they were two sons of his own. "Sons of thine?" said Laidlaw, "Whoy, what are their neames?" "Simon and John," answered he; "or rather Sim and Jock, for that's how we ca' them." "Whoy, mon, that is the queerest thing I ever heard," said Laidlaw: "Then thou hast two swons of the neame of Jock, and other two of the neame of Sim, for I saw two of that neame, strapping youths, in the Warden's camp." Peter wist not well what answer to make; and, therefore, only added, "Ay, Ay! Were you in the Warden's camp? Then tell me, is their ony word frae my son Dan?" "Ay man, I can tell thee sic news of Dan as thou never heard'st; he has sitten at his supper hand and neive wi' the deil." At these words one of the young men behind them (May Chisholm to wit,) uttered a suppressed scream, and from that moment Will Laidlaw smelled a rat, and soon discovered his own beloved Bess Chisholm standing gazing at him as he related the wonderful story of her brother's adventures with the devil, the warlock, and the three evil spirits; of his race with those infernals along the marble pavement of the air; his transformation into a horned beast; and of his eating and drinking with the prince of darkness. But the two striplings were most of all shocked at hearing of the devil's burning stomach, and how the wine _fizzed_ as it went down. After listening and wondering while all these things were in relation, Bess said to the skin-dealer next to her, who chanced to be Sandy Pot, "Pray, Sir, when you were in the camp of Sir Ringan Redhough, did you note a brave trooper, a friend of ours, named Laidlaw?" "Oh, yes, that I did," said Sandy: "I know him well." This was a glorious joke for Pot, and his comrades were afraid he would persevere in it till he put their secret out altogether. "How is he reported in the army?" said she: "Is it still alleged that he is the bravest and most successful battler in the baron's array?" "_Bottler_, I suppose you mean," said Sandy, "for as to his battling, God mend that. He is not noted for ought that I ever heard of, except for keeping a flunkey, or a wall-i'-the-chamber, as the Frenchmen ca' it; and it is reported thro' all the army, that that _wally_ o' his is an English girl. I can tell you that your neighbour, Will Laidlaw, is notorious for nothing else beside this."