his purpose. He could
be in turn an Irish drover, a Loch Fyne fisherman, a moor shepherd, a
flourishing burgess of Lanark or Ruglen, even an enterprising spirit
dealer from Edinburgh or Dundee, with facilities for storage of casks
when the Solway undutied cargoes should reach these cities.

And the marvel was that in none of his personations had he yet been
caught. In proof of which he was still alive, but McClure confessed to
himself that it was only a matter of time. He must make a grand stroke
for fortune--quick fortune, and then bolt for it. For his heart was sick
with thinking on the gunshot from behind the hedge or the knife between
his shoulders. He never now went to his own parish of Stonykirk where
his father had been a well-doing packman--which is to say, a travelling
merchant of silks and laces. McClure knew that he was in danger anywhere
west of the Cree, but the danger increased as he went westwards, and in
his own parish of Stonykirk there were at least a score of young blades
who would have taken his life with as little thought as they would have
blooded a pig--aye, and had sworn so to do, _handfasted_ upon it,
kissing alternately Bible and cold steel.

It was no difficult matter for McClure to possess himself of the
unavowed reason of my Lord Wargrove's ardent search for a carriage and
horses. Clearly it was for a secret purpose--one that could not be
declared. Because in any other case Lord Wargrove had only to take the
pair which belonged to his host, or more easily still, Adam Ferris's in
the north end of the Glen. If these were not regal enough, Earl Raincy
had in his stables the finest horses in the county, and would certainly,
though of old Jacobite stock, not refuse them to the King's son, albeit
only a Guelph. Then there was old Sir Bunny Bunny. His wife would gladly
have harnessed the horses herself and put her husband on the box, if
only she had suspected a desire which she could have treated as a royal
command.

As for the purpose, Eben McClure was in no greater difficulty. What but
a pretty woman to run away with, did any of the king's sons care for?
There was but one such girl in the countryside. She had made the Duke
hold wool for her--many hanks, it was said in the regiment--and he had
fallen in love with her on the spot.

But that girl, whether taking alarm or to increase her value, had gone
into hiding, and apparently no one knew where. It was certain that her
kin at one time or ano