with us from the camp.'

Suddenly a voice shouted, 'The Scots! the Scots! 'Tis the Scots!
Treachery! we are betrayed. Come, Sir' (to Percy), 'they'll be on you.
Treason!'

'An' it were, you fool, would a Percy turn his back?' cried Ralf,
striking at the man; but the panic had seized the whole body; all were
shouting that the false Scots king had brought his countrymen down on
them; they scattered hither and thither, and would have fallen an easy
prey if they had been pursued. But this did not seem to be the purpose
of the enemy, who merely extended themselves so as to form a hedge around
the few who stood, sword in hand, disdaining to fly. These were, James,
somewhat in advance, with his head high, and a lion look on his brow;
Malcolm, white with dismay; Ralf, restless with fury; Kitson and Trenton,
apparently as unmoved as ever; Brewster, equally steady: and Malcolm's
follower, Halbert, in a glow of hopeful excitement.

'Never fear, friends,' said James, kindly; 'to you this can only be
matter of ransom.'

'I fear nothing,' sharply answered Ralf.

'We'll stand by you, Sir,' said Kitson to Ralf; 'but if ever there were
foul treason--'

'Pshaw! you ass,' were all Percy's thanks; for at that moment a horseman
came forward from among the enemy, a gigantic form on a tall white horse,
altogether a 'dark gray man,' the open visor revealing an elderly face,
hard-featured and grim, and the shield on his arm so dinted, faded, and
battered, as scarce to show the blue chief and the bleeding crowned
heart; but it was no unfamiliar sight to Malcolm's eyes, and with a
slight shudder he bent his head in answer to the fierce whisper, 'Old
Douglas himself!' with which Hotspur's son certified himself that he had
the foe of his house before him. King James, resting the point of his
sword on his mailed foot, stood erect and gravely expectant; and the
Scot, springing to the ground, advanced with the words, 'We greet you
well, my liege, and hereby--' he was bending his knee as he spoke, and
removing his gauntlet in preparation for the act of homage.

'Hold, Earl Douglas,' said James, 'homage is vain to a captive.'

'You are captive no longer, Sir King,' said Earl Archibald. 'We have
long awaited this occasion, and will at once return to Scotland with you,
with the arms and treasure we have gained here, and will bear down the
craven Albany.'

Kitson and Trenton looked at one another and grasped their swords, as
though doubti