"Eat well, Robie, lad," said I; "it's a long road over again between here and Dunse, and there is but little to be got on it. Take another glass of ale; ye never tasted anything from Clockmill to match that. It is as delicious as honey, and as refreshing as fountain water." That really was the case; though whether the peculiar excellence of the ale arose from anything extraordinarily grateful in its flavour, or from my long march, my thirst, and sharp appetite--added to the joy I felt in the unexpected prospect of returning home in peace and happiness with my son, instead of slaughtering at enemies, or being slaughtered by them--I cannot affirm. There might be something in both. Robin, however, drank an entire bottle to his own head--that was three parts of a choppin, and a great deal too much for a laddie of his years. But in the temper he was in, and knowing by myself that he must be both thirsty and hungry, I did not think it prudent to restrain him. It was apparent that the liquor was getting uppermost in his brain, and he began to speak and to argue in company, and to strike his hand upon the table like an angry man; in short, he seemed forgetful of my presence, and those were exhibitions which I had never observed in him before. I was exceedingly anxious to get home, upon his mother's account; for she was a woman of a tender heart and a nervous temperament; and I knew that she would be in a state bordering on distraction on account of his absence. I therefore said to him--"Robin, I am going to speak to the commanding officer; ye will sit here until I come back, but do not drink any more." "Very weel, faither," said he. So I went out and spoke to the officer, and told him my reasons for wishing to return home immediately; urging the state of anxiety and distress that Agnes would be in on account of the absence of our son. "Very well, Mr Goldie," said he; "it is all very right and proper; I have a regard to the feelings of a husband and a parent; and as this has proved but a false alarm, there is no obstacle to your returning home immediately." I thanked him very gratefully for his civility, and stepped away up to the George Inn, where I took two outside places on the heavy coach to Dunbar, intending to walk from there to Broxmouth, and to strike up there by the west to Innerwick, and away over the hills, down by Preston, and home. I am certain I was not twenty minutes or half an hour absent at the farthest. When I entered the public-house again, I looked for my son, but he was not there. "What have ye made of Robie?" said I to my comrades. "Has he no been wi' ye?" answered they; "he left the house just after ye." Mortal man cannot describe the fear, agony, and consternation that fell upon me. The sweat burst upon my brow as though it had been the warmest day in summer. A thousand apprehensions laid their hands upon me in a moment. "With me!" said I; "he's not been with me: have none of you an idea where he can have gone?"