It was the new Earl of Douglas, James the Gross, on his way to visit the camp of his sons.  As he approached the sentries who stood on guard upon the broomy braes betwixt Merchiston and Bruntsfield, he was challenged in a fierce southland shout by one of the Carsphairn levies who knew him not.

“Stand back there, fat loon, gin ye wantna a quarrel shot intil that swagging tallow-bag ye ca’ your wame!”

“Out of my way, hill varlet!” cried the man on horseback.

But the Carsphairn man stood with his cross-bow pointed straight at the leader of the cavalcade, crying at the same time in a loud, far-carrying voice over his shoulder, “Here awa’, Anthon—­here awa’, Bob!  Come and help me to argue wi’ this fat rogue.”

Several other hillmen came hurrying up, and the little company of riders was brought to a standstill.  Then ensued this colloquy.

“Who are you that dare stop my way?” demanded the Earl.

“Wha may ye be that comes shuggy-shooin’ oot o’ the bluidy city o’ Edinburgh intil oor camp,” retorted him of Carsphairn, “sitting your beast for all the warld like a lump o’ potted-head whammelled oot o’ a bowl?”

“I am the Earl of Douglas.”

“The Yerl o’ Dooglas!  Then a bonny hand they hae made o’ him in Edinburgh.  I heard they had only beheaded him.”

“I tell you I am Earl of Douglas.  I bid you beware.  Conduct me to the tent of my sons!”

At this point an aged man of some authority stood forward and gazed intently at James the Gross, looking beneath his hand as at an extensive prospect of which he wished to take in all the details.

“Lads,” he said, “hold your hands—­it rins i’ my head that this craitur’ may be Jamie, the fat Yerl o’ Avondale.  We’ll let him gang by in peace.  His sons are decent lads.”

There came from the hillmen a chorus of “Avondale he may be—­there’s nae sayin’ what they can breed up there by Stra’ven.  But we are weel assured that he is nae richt Douglas.  Na, nae Douglas like yon man was ever cradled or buried in Gallowa’.”

At this moment Lord William Douglas, seeing the commotion on the outposts, came down the brae through the broom.  Upon seeing his father he took the plumed bonnet from off his head, and, ordering the Carsphairn men sharply to their places, he set his hand upon the bridle of the gross Earl’s horse.  So with the two running footmen still preserving some sort of equilibrium in his unsteady bulk, James of Avondale was brought to the door of a tent from which floated the banner of the Douglas house, blue with a bleeding heart upon it.

At the entering in of the pavilion, all stained and trodden into the soil by the feet of passers-by, lay the royal banner of the Stewarts, so placed by headstrong James Douglas the younger, in contempt of both tutor and Chancellor, who, being but cowards and murderers, had usurped the power of the king within the realm.