ncis Osbaldistone, sir."

"What, a son of Sir Hildebrand Osbaldistone of Northumberland?"

"No, sir," interrupted the Bailie; "a son of the great William
Osbaldistone of the House of Osbaldistone and Tresham, Crane-Alley,
London."

"I am afraid, sir," said the officer, "your name only increases the
suspicions against you, and lays me under the necessity of requesting
that you will give up what papers you have in charge."

I observed the Highlanders look anxiously at each other when this
proposal was made.

"I had none," I replied, "to surrender."

The officer commanded me to be disarmed and searched. To have resisted
would have been madness. I accordingly gave up my arms, and submitted to
a search, which was conducted as civilly as an operation of the kind well
could. They found nothing except the note which I had received that night
through the hand of the landlady.

"This is different from what I expected," said the officer; "but it
affords us good grounds for detaining you. Here I find you in written
communication with the outlawed robber, Robert MacGregor Campbell, who
has been so long the plague of this district--How do you account for
that?"

"Spies of Rob!" said Inverashalloch. "We wad serve them right to strap
them up till the neist tree."

"We are gaun to see after some gear o' our ain, gentlemen," said the
Bailie, "that's fa'en into his hands by accident--there's nae law agane a
man looking after his ain, I hope?"

"How did you come by this letter?" said the officer, addressing himself
to me.

I could not think of betraying the poor woman who had given it to me, and
remained silent.

"Do you know anything of it, fellow?" said the officer, looking at
Andrew, whose jaws were chattering like a pair of castanets at the
threats thrown out by the Highlander.

"O ay, I ken a' about it--it was a Hieland loon gied the letter to that
lang-tongued jaud the gudewife there; I'll be sworn my maister ken'd
naething about it. But he's wilfu' to gang up the hills and speak wi'
Rob; and oh, sir, it wad be a charity just to send a wheen o' your
red-coats to see him safe back to Glasgow again whether he will or
no--And ye can keep Mr. Jarvie as lang as ye like--He's responsible
enough for ony fine ye may lay on him--and so's my master for that
matter; for me, I'm just a puir gardener lad, and no worth your
steering."

"I believe," said the officer, "the best thing I can do is to send these
persons to the garri