It was drawing towards midnight. The troops of Claverhouse were quartered around the country, and his three prisoners, still bound to each other, were confined in a small farm-house, from which the inhabitants had been expelled. They could hear the heavy and measured tread of the sentinel pacing backward and forward in front of the house; the sound of his footsteps seemed to measure out the moments between them and eternity. After they had sung a psalm and prayed together--"I am auld," said John Brydone, "and I fear not to die, but rather glory to lay down my life for the great cause; but, oh, Daniel! my heart yearns that yer bluid also should be shed--had they only spared ye, to hae been a protector to our puir Mary!--or had I no driven Philip frae the house"---- "Mention not the name of the cast-away," said the minister. "Dinna mourn, faither," answered Daniel, "an arm mair powerful than that of man will be her supporter and protector." "Amen!" responded Mr. Duncan. "She has aye been cauld to me, and has turned the ear o' the deaf adder to the voice o' my affection; but even noo, when my thochts should be elsewhere, the thocht o' her burns in my heart like a coal." While they yet spoke, a soldier, wrapt up in a cloak, approached the sentinel, and said-- "It is a cold night, brother." "Piercing," replied the other, striking his feet upon the ground. "You are welcome to a mouthful of my spirit-warmer," added the first, taking a bottle from beneath his cloak. "Thank ye!" rejoined the sentinel; "but I don't know your voice. You don't belong to our corps, I think." "No," answered the other; "but it matters not for that--brother soldiers should give and take." The sentinel took the bottle and raised it to his lips; he drank, and swore the liquor was excellent. "Drink again," said the other; "you are welcome; it is as good as a double cloak around you." And the sentinel drank again. "Good night, comrade," said the trooper. "Good night," replied the sentinel; and the stranger passed on. Within half an hour, the same soldier, still muffled up in his cloak, returned. The sentinel had fallen against the door of the house, and was fast asleep. The stranger proceeded to the window--he raised it--he entered. "Fear nothing," he whispered to the prisoners, who were bound to staples that had been driven into the opposite wall of the room. He cut the cords with which their hands and their feet were fastened. "Heaven reward ye for the mercy o' yer heart, and the courage o' this deed," said John. "Say nothing," whispered their deliverer, "but follow me."