“Mortbleu!” said Captain Craigengelt, “my recruit is lost!”

“Ay, Captain,” said Bucklaw, “the salmon is off with hook and all.  But I will after him, for I have had more of his insolence than I can well digest.”

Craigengelt offered to accompany him; but Bucklaw replied:  “No, no, Captain, keep you the check of the chimney-nook till I come back; it’s good sleeping in a haill skin.

     Little kens the auld wife that sits by the fire,
     How cauld the wind blaws in hurle-burle swire.”

And singing as he went, he left the apartment.

CHAPTER VII.

     Now, Billy Berwick, keep good heart,
     And of they talking let me be;
     But if thou art a man, as I am sure thou art,
     Come over the dike and fight with me.

     Old Ballad.

The Master of Ravenswood had mounted the ambling hackney which he before rode, on finding the accident which had happened to his led horse, and, for the animal’s ease, was proceeding at a slow pace from the Tod’s Den towards his old tower of Wolf’s Crag, when he heard the galloping of a horse behind him, and, looking back, perceived that he was pursued by young Bucklaw, who had been delayed a few minutes in the pursuit by the irresistable temptation of giving the hostler at the Tod’s Den some recipe for treating the lame horse.  This brief delay he had made up by hard galloping, and now overtook the Master where the road traversed a waste moor.  “Halt, sir,” cried Bucklaw; “I am no political agent—­no Captain Craigengelt, whose life is too important to be hazarded in defence of his honour.  I am Frank Hayston of Bucklaw, and no man injures me by word, deed, sign, or look, but he must render me an account of it.”

“This is all very well, Mr. Hayston of Bucklaw,” replied the Master of Ravenswood, in a tone the most calm and indifferent; “but I have no quarrel with you, and desire to have none.  Our roads homeward, as well as our roads through life, lie in different directions; there is no occasion for us crossing each other.”

“Is there not?” said Bucklaw, impetuously.  “By Heaven! but I say that there is, though:  you called us intriguing adventurers.”

“Be correct in your recollection, Mr. Hayston; it was to your companion only I applied that epithet, and you know him to be no better.”

“And what then?  He was my companion for the time, and no man shall insult my companion, right or wrong, while he is in my company.”

“Then, Mr. Hayston,” replied Ravenswood, with the same composure, “you should choose your society better, or you are like to have much work in your capacity of their champion.  Go home, sir; sleep, and have more reason in your wrath to-morrow.”

“Not so, Master, you have mistaken your man; high airs and wise saws shall not carry it off thus.  Besides, you termed me bully, and you shall retract the word before we part.”