"He then called together his four remaining armed men, and placing halters round the necks of his intended victims, they were dragged forth to the woods around the Hermitage, where Walter was to choose the fatal tree. "Now a deep mist covered the face of the earth, and they could perceive no object at the distance of half a bow-shot before them; and ere he had approached the wood where he was to carry his merciless project into execution-- "'The wood comes towards us!' exclaimed one of his followers. "'What!--_the wood comes!_' cried Soulis, and his cheek became pale, and he thought on the words of the demon--'_Beware of a coming wood!_'--and, for a time, their remembrance, and the forest that seemed to advance before him, deprived his arm of strength, and his mind of resolution, and before his heart recovered, the followers of the house of Branxholm, to the number of fourscore, each bearing a tall branch of a rowan-tree in their hands,[11] as a charm against his sorcery, perceived, and raising a loud shout, surrounded him. [Footnote 11: It is probable that the legend of the "_coming wood_," referred to in the traditions respecting Lord Soulis, is the same as that from which Shakspere takes Macbeth's charm-- "Till Birnam Wood shall come to Dunsinane." The circumstances are similar.] "The cords with which the arms of Marion and Walter were bound were instantly cut asunder. But, although the odds against him were as twenty to one, the daring Soulis defied them all. Yea, when his followers were overpowered, his single arm dealt death around. "Now, there was not a day passed that complaints were not brought to King Robert, from those residing on the Borders, against Lord Soulis, for his lawless oppression, his cruelty, and his wizard-craft. And, one day, there came before the monarch, one after another, some complaining that he had brought diseases on their cattle, or destroyed their houses by fire, and a third, that he had stolen away the fair bride of Branxholm's heir, and they stood before the king, and begged to know what should be done with him. Now, the king was wearied with their importunities and complaints, and he exclaimed, peevishly and unthinkingly, '_boil him, if you please, but let me hear no more about him_.' But, "'It is the curse of kings to be attended By slaves that take their humour for a warrant;'