Gordon, being stopped dead in his
heart's desire, like a dog quivering for the leap that suddenly gets his
death-wound, now went forward as one blind, and staggered even in the
plain places. Also, it was well that I must guide him, for thus I was
kept from thinking of the horrid burden I carried.

We were at the angle of the wall, and going slowly down among the
cumbering heaps of rubbish by the dyke-side, when I certainly heard,
through the soughing of the wind, and the soft swirl of the snow-flakes,
the quick trampling of footsteps behind us. It seemed to me that they
came from the direction of the Queen's Bathhouse, by which, as I now
minded, my Lord Wellwood had built his new house.

I turned in my tracks, and saw half a dozen of fellows running towards
us with their swords drawn; and one who seemed short of stature and ill
at the running, following after them. Then I pulled quickly at Walter's
sleeve, and said:

"Get you to a good posture of defence, or we are both dead men. See
behind you!"

At this he turned and looked, and the sight seemed wonderfully to steady
him. He seemed to come to himself with a kind of joy. I heard him sigh
as one that casts off a heavy back-burden. For blows were ever mightily
refreshing to Wat Gordon's spirits, even as water of Cologne is to a
mim-mouthed, spoiled beauty of the court.

As for me, I had no joy in blows, and little skill in them, so that my
delight was small. Indeed, I felt the lump rise in my throat, and my
mouth dried with fear. So that I could hardly keep the tears from
running, being heartily sorry for myself because I should never see
bonny Earlstoun and my mother again, or any one else in the pleasant
south country--and all on a business that I had no concern with, being
only some night-hawk trokings of Wat Gordon's.

But even as he glanced about him, Lochinvar saw where we could best
engage them; for in such things he had the captain's eye, swift and
inevitable. It was at the angle of the wall, in which is a wide archway
that leads into the enclosure of the Palace. The snow had drifted round
this arch a great sweep of rounded wreaths, and glistened smoothly white
in the moonbeams, but the paved gateway itself was blown clear. Wat
thrust me behind him, and, throwing down his cloak, cleared his sword
arm with a long sobbing intake of breath, which, having a certain great
content in it, was curious to hear.

I stood behind him in the dark of the archway, and