Sholto thundered again upon the rugged portal.

“Open there!  Open, I say, in the name of the Earl of Douglas!”

“Fower o’ the morning!  Lord, what’s a’ the steer?  In the name o’ the Yerl o’ Douglas!  But wha kens that it isna the English?  Na, na, Grice Elshioner opens not to every night-raking loon that likes to cry the name o’ the Yerl o’ Douglas ower oor toon wa’!”

And Grice the valorous would have taken him off with a fresh, sleep-dispelling bellow had it not been that he heard himself summoned in a voice that brooked no delay.

“Open, varlet of a watchman, or by Saint Bride I will have you swinging in half an hour from the bars of your own portcullis.  I who speak am Sholto MacKim, captain of the Earl’s guard.  Every liegeman in the town must arm, mount, and ride this instant to Edinburgh.  I give you fair warning.  You hear my words, I will not enter your rascal town.  But if so much as one be wanting at the muster, I swear in the name of my master that his house shall be burned with fire and razed to the ground, and his wife be a widow or ever the cock craw on another Sabbath morn!”

And without waiting for a reply Sholto laid the reins upon the neck of Black Darnaway and rode on southward up Douglas Water to the home nest of the lordly race.

And behind him, with a wail in it, blared through the narrow streets the stormy voice of Grice Elshioner, watchman of Lanark, “Wauken ye, wauken ye, burgesses a’!  The Douglas hath sent to bid ye mount and ride.”

The birr of the war drum saluted Sholto’s ears ere he had turned the corner of the town parks.  Then came the answering shouts of the burghers who thrust inquiring and indignant heads out of gable windows and turret speering-holes.

“Birr!” continued the undaunted and insistent town drum.

“Harness your backs!  Fill your bellies, and stand ready!  The Douglas has need o’ ye, lieges a’!” cried the sonorous voice of the watch.  Sholto smiled as he listened.

“I have at least set them on the alert.  They will join the Douglasdale men as they pass by, or we will show them reason why.  But they of Lanark are ill-set town-ward men, and of no true leal heart, save an it be to their own coffers.  Yet will they march with us for fear of the harrying hand and the burning roof tree.”

The sun rose fair on the battlements of Douglas Castle as Sholto rode up to the level mead, whereon a little company of men was exercising.  He could hear the words of command cried gruffly in the broad Galloway speech.  Landless Jock was drilling his spearmen, and as the shining triple line of points dropped to the “ready to receive,” the old knight and former captain of the Earl’s guard came forward a little way to welcome his successor with what grace was at his command.

“Eh, siree, and what has brocht sic a braw young knight and grand frequenter o’ courts sae far as Douglas Castle?  Could ye no even let puir Landless Jock hae the tilt-yaird here to exercise his handfu’ in, and keep his auld banes a wee while frae the rust and the green mould?”