."

"Very right--very right--that's speaking like a man now," said the stout
yeoman; "and, if sae should be that this be sae, if ye'll just gar your
servant jow out the great bell in the tower, there's me, and my twa
brothers, and little Davie of the Stenhouse, will be wi' you, wi' a' the
power we can make, in the snapping of a flint."

"Many thanks, Hobbie," answered Earnscliff; "but I hope we shall have no
war of so unnatural and unchristian a kind in our time."

"Hout, sir, hout," replied Elliot; "it wad be but a wee bit neighbour
war, and Heaven and earth would make allowances for it in this
uncultivated place--it's just the nature o' the folk and the land--we
canna live quiet like Loudon folk--we haena sae muckle to do. It's
impossible."

"Well, Hobbie," said the Laird, "for one who believes so deeply as you
do in supernatural appearances, I must own you take Heaven in your own
hand rather audaciously, considering where we are walking."

"What needs I care for the Mucklestane-Moor ony mair than ye do
yoursell, Earnscliff?" said Hobbie, something offended; "to be sure,
they do say there's a sort o' worricows and lang-nebbit things about the
land, but what need I care for them? I hae a good conscience, and little
to answer for, unless it be about a rant amang the lasses, or a splore
at a fair, and that's no muckle to speak of. Though I say it mysell, I
am as quiet a lad and as peaceable--"

"And Dick Turnbull's head that you broke, and Willie of Winton whom you
shot at?" said his travelling companion.

"Hout, Earnscliff, ye keep a record of a' men's misdoings--Dick's head's
healed again, and we're to fight out the quarrel at Jeddart, on the
Rood-day, so that's like a thing settled in a peaceable way; and then I
am friends wi' Willie again, puir chield--it was but twa or three hail
draps after a'. I wad let onybody do the like o't to me for a pint o'
brandy. But Willie's lowland bred, poor fallow, and soon frighted for
himsell--And, for the worricows, were we to meet ane on this very bit--"

"As is not unlikely," said young Earnscliff, "for there stands your old
witch, Hobbie."

"I say," continued Elliot, as if indignant at this hint--"I say, if the
auld carline hersell was to get up out o' the grund just before us here,
I would think nae mair--But, gude preserve us, Earnscliff; what can yon,
be!"

CHAPTER III.

Brown Dwarf, that o'er the moorland strays,
Thy name to Keeldar tell!
"Th