“We could never hear more of them.  I sent on Friday night for my troop from Dumfries, and ordered them to march by the Sanquhar to the Muirkirk, to the Ploughlands, and so to Streven.  I sent for Captain Strachan’s troop from the Glenkens, and ordered him to march to the old castle of Cumloch, down to the Sorne, and through the country to Kilbryde, leaving Mauchline and Newmills on his left, and Loudon-hill on his right.  By this means they scoured this country, and secured the passages that way.  Colonel Buchan marched with the foot and the dragoons some miles on the right of my troop, and I, with the Guards and my Lord Ross and his troop, up by the [Shaire?].  We were at the head of Douglas.  We were round and over Cairntable.  We were at Greenock-head, Cummer-head, and through all the moors, mosses, hills, glens, woods; and spread in small parties, and ranged as if we had been at hunting, and down to Blackwood, but could learn nothing of those rogues.  So the troops being extremely harassed with marching so much on grounds never trod on before, I have sent them with Colonel Buchan to rest at Dalmellington, till we see where these rogues will start up.  We examined all on oath, and offered money, and threatened terribly, for intelligence, but we could learn no more."[47]

The “rogues” were to start up soon and with a vengeance.  On a day in July (the date is not specified) a party of troopers were escorting sixteen prisoners to Dumfries.  They were Claverhouse’s men, but their captain was not with them.  At Enterkin Hill, a narrow pass with a deep precipice on either side, a rescue was attempted by a considerable body of men,—­English Borderers, it was whispered.  Some of the prisoners escaped:  others were killed in the scuffle or broke their necks over the precipice:  only two were brought into Edinburgh:  a few of the soldiers were also killed.  This audacious affair spurred the Government on to new energies.  The garrisons were increased through all the western shires.  Claverhouse, with Buchan for his second in command, was put in charge of all the forces in Ayrshire and Clydesdale, and a special civil commission was added to their military powers.

At length, towards the end of August, there was a lull, and the master of Dudhope was able at last to enjoy the society of his bride and the pleasures of a country life.  But of the latter he soon grew weary.  “Though I stay a few days here,” he wrote to Queensberry on August 25th, “I hope none will reproach me of eating the bread of idleness.”  That, at least, is a reproach his worst enemies have never tried to fasten on him.  To be doing something was, indeed, a necessity of his existence; and his duties as Constable soon furnished him with something to do.  In the Tolbooth of Dundee lay a number of poor wretches whom the hard laws of the time had sentenced to death for various offences, the gravest of which did not rise above theft.  It was within the Constable’s power to order them at any moment