lty of carrying off a large sum of money and
various jewels, the property of His Royal Highness the Duke of Lyonesse.
He was also suspected of having led the Prince and his party into an
ambuscade, where the son of the King had been wounded to the effusion of
blood and the danger of his life.

For the theft alone there was one sure penalty--death.

However, as things stood the spy's unpopularity made his fate of little
moment to anybody. The thoughts of all were centred on Stair Garland. He
was handsome, young and interesting. The maidens of the town of
Stranryan trigged themselves out in their best hats and dresses--they
donned their most becoming ribbons in order to promenade in front of the
"Castle."

"Three months he and the ither twa held the sodjers at bay, till they
had them clean wearied oot!" May Girmory explained to her bosom friend,
Lizzie McCreath, as they promenaded together; "but to my thinkin' there
is little that either of the ither two could do. It would be himsel',
Lizzie, that did the thinkin' and the fechtin'. He's the head o' a' the
Free Bands, ye ken, Lizzie!"

"Then, to my thinkin', it's but little that the 'bands' have done for
him, the poor lad--and the more shame to them," said Lizzie. "Now, over
yonder, in Ulster, if a quiet lad had been as long caged up by them
divils of red-coats--it's the good dustin' their jackets would be
gettin'. 'Tis Elizabeth McCreath and the daughter of a law-abiding
Orangeman that will be tellin' ye so!"

"Hoots, lassie," said her friend, "you Stranryan Irish or half-Irish are
all for doing a thing like the banging off of a peeoye. But what matters
a day or twa for a fine, strong lad in the best chamber of the Castle?
Stair Garland is not tried yet and, what is more, he is not sentenced.
And if he is sentenced, where will he serve his time? Will he be going
ayont seas to be sold in the tobacco plantations or off in a ship to
Botany Bay? I tell you the keel is not laid, and the mast is not out of
the acorn that will carry away Stair Garland. And as to hanging
him--faith, they will need all their forces back from the wars before
they could do siccan a thing in Galloway!"

She lowered her voice and spoke in the ear of the Irish girl, the
Orangeman's daughter.

"Lizzie McCreath," she whispered, "can you keep a secret?"

"What else, noo?" said Lizzie, with avidity, "did you ever hear tell
where you were with Sandy O'Neil on the night of the Saint John?"

"That'