dead, his daughters carried off, and his son
lying between life and death, came to him with full force, and well
nigh broke him down.

In the meantime, the little party were making across the hills, and
before morning they came upon the northern road, fifteen miles from the
Bairds' hold. Here Oswald and Roger dismounted. It was arranged that
the men should return with the horses into the hills, and should there
rest until late in the afternoon, and then mount and ride for Parton.
One or other of them was to come down, at seven o'clock each evening,
to the road half a mile from the village; and was there to watch till
nine. If no one came along, they were then to return to their lodging.

"I feel stiff in the legs, master," Roger said; "a fifty-mile ride, up
and down the hills, is no joke after a hard day's work."

"They will soon come right again, Roger. I feel stiff, myself, though
pretty well accustomed to horse exercise. However, when we present
ourselves at the hold, dusty and footsore, we shall look our characters
thoroughly."

Neither were sorry when they arrived at a small village, a quarter of a
mile from the Bairds' hold. They went in together to the little ale
house, and vigorously attacked the rough fare set before them.

"Hast thou travelled far?" their host asked, as he watched them eating.

"Indifferently far," the monk said: "'tis five-and-twenty miles hence
to Moffat, and it would have seemed farther to me, had not this good
fellow overtaken me, and fell in with my pace. He is good company,
though monkish gowns have but little in common with steel pot and
broadsword; but his talk, and his songs, lightened the way."

"Whither are you going, father?"

"I am making my way to Carlisle," he said. "I have a brother who is
prior in a small monastery, there, and it is long since I have seen
him. Who lives at the stronghold I saw on the hills, but a short
distance away?"

"It is the hold of William Baird, the head of that family; of whom,
doubtless, you may have heard."

"I have heard his name, as that of a noted raider across the border,"
the monk said; "a fierce man, and a bold one. Has he regard for the
church? If so, I would gladly take up my abode there, for a day or two;
for in truth I am wearied out, it being some years since my feet have
carried me so long a journey."

"As to that, I say nothing," the host said. "It would depend on his
humour whether he took you in, or shut the gates in your