Half an hour's gallop brought the friends to their journey's end. Cessford's Peel, or Castle, was an old watch tower, once strongly fortified, and still in excellent repair. Built at the bottom of a dark glen, through which foamed a mountain burn, its gray crest just peeped above the woods; the keep was covered with ivy, amid which numbers of jackdaws had built their nests. The Peel was built close to the march of the Earl's estates; a cross-road led from its doorway to the high-road, which ran along the top of the dell. The tower had an ill reputation, having been the scene of some terrible murder in olden times, and the popular belief was it was haunted by the spirit of the sufferer. In front was a large open lawn, surrounded by woods on all sides, and sloping down to the torrent. Beneath the shadow of the trees to the right was a huge stone, perhaps ten feet in diameter, and round as Arthur's table; its top was as level as the nether millstone, and was covered with moss. On this verdant table it was proposed to spread the banquet. Indeed, if it had been created on purpose, a better place for a picnic could hardly be found: the turreted castle, with its woods and hills around, formed a landscape on which the eye delighted to rest,--the level stone for a table,--the green grass for a dancing-board,--the burn for a well to cool the wines;--while the hum of bees, the carol of wood warblers, and distant murmur of falling waters made music to the ear. On a broken-down dyke sat an old man in seaman's dress, smoking his pipe in the sunshine, and apparently little caring for the prospect around. The young officers, when they reached this delightful spot, dismounted, and taking off the saddles and bridles from their horses tethered them to a stone beneath the shadow of the trees, and left them to pasture there at their pleasure. Having seen their steeds well cared for, their next action was to cross the meadow and address the old man. "What fool's errand is this? The foul fiend take your merry makings." "How now, old drudge--dare you blaspheme?" said the Captain; "nevertheless, I hate your picnics, and you may be sure had no hand in this." "Could you not have steered elsewhere? is there not sea-room enough without tacking here with your mummeries?" "What the devil had I to do with it? However, you will see laughing, and dancing, and merriment enough to make the fiends howl. Is Antonia to do what I asked?" "Yees," answered Bill Stacy, for he it was; "but devil take it, if there ain't one of their confounded craft come already, and I must sheer off." "Like fun; be earthed, you old fox!"