The rays of the sun were lingering on the very verge of the horizon, as the party ascended a hollow and somewhat steep path, which led to the summit of a rising ground.  The country was unenclosed, being part of a very extensive heath or common; but it was far from level, exhibiting in many places hollows filled with furze and broom; in others little dingles of stunted brushwood.  A thicket of the latter description crowned the hill up which the party ascended.  The foremost of the band, being the stoutest and most active, had pushed on, and having surmounted the ascent, were out of ken for the present.  Gilfillan, with the pedlar, and the small party who were Waverley’s more immediate guard, were near the top of the ascent, and the remainder straggled after them at a considerable interval.

Such was the situation of matters, when the pedlar, missing, as he said, a little doggie which belonged to him, began to halt and whistle for the animal.  This signal, repeated more than once, gave offence to the rigour of his companion, the rather because it appeared to indicate inattention to the treasures of theological and controversial knowledge which was pouring out for his edification.  He therefore signified gruffly, that he could not waste his time in waiting for a useless cur.

’But if your honour wad consider the case of Tobit’—­

‘Tobit!’ exclaimed Gilfillan, with great heat; ’Tobit and his dog baith are altogether heathenish and apocryphal, and none but a prelatist or a papist would draw them into question.  I doubt I hae been mista’en in you, friend.’

‘Very likely,’ answered the pedlar, with great composure; ’but ne’ertheless, I shall take leave to whistle again upon puir Bawty,’

This last signal was answered in an unexpected manner; for six or eight stout Highlanders, who lurked among the copse and brushwood, sprang into the hollow way, and began to lay about them with their claymores.  Gilfillan, un-appalled at this undesirable apparition, cried out manfully, ‘The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!’ and, drawing his broadsword, would probably have done as much credit to the good old cause as any of its doughty champions at Drumclog, when, behold! the pedlar, snatching a musket from the person who was next him, bestowed the butt of it with such emphasis on the head of his late instructor in the Cameronian creed, that he was forthwith levelled to the ground.  In the confusion which ensued, the horse which bore our hero was shot by one of Gilfillan’s party, as he discharged his firelock at random.  Waverley fell with, and indeed under, the animal, and sustained some severe contusions.  But he was almost instantly extricated from the fallen steed by two Highlanders, who, each seizing him by the arm, hurried him away from the scuffle and from the high-road.  They ran with great speed, half supporting and half dragging our hero, who could, however, distinguish a few dropping shots fired about the spat which he