leepy rejoinder;
"if the gentlemen have onything to sell, we will hear of it the morn as
usual. 'Tis not for the like of us to be watching ower closely the
doings of them that tak's the risk while we drink the drappie!"

Oh, wise and somnolent lady, somewhat ill-informed in the present case,
but on the whole of excellent and approven advice! It were indeed better
for your good Thomas that he should neither see nor hear, and be in no
wise able to give any evidence as to the doings of "these gentlemen,"
this one night of the year.

Soon, however, the whole town was awake and listening. But nobody
ventured out into the street. Accidents had been known to occur, painful
errors in identification. Even the chief civil authority of the town was
deterred from sallying forth by a remembrance of a predecessor in the
provostship who had been buried in a stable mixen all but his head, to
the detriment of his clothes and the still greater and more lasting hurt
to his dignity.

The bell of the town steeple clanged loudly half-a-dozen times, and
ceased as abruptly as if the breath had been choked out of the
bellringer. That was the sole attempt at alarm which was given in the
town of Stranryan on the night of the Great Riding.

By all the ports they came hurrying in--ceaseless, close ranked, without
end and past counting. Over the wild uplands which lie between Leswalt
and Stranryan, the Back Shore men arrived--not a man missing. They were
the nearest and their horses were quite unbreathed. Stonykirk and
Kirkmaiden came next, and then the lads from the moors with hair bushy
about the fetlocks of their steeds. They were a broad-shouldered and
go-as-you-please crowd. They marched directly to the door of the Castle,
and took up their position before it, awaiting orders. Then you might
see two score of black-a-vised Blairs and McKerrows from Garliestown and
the two Luces. Last of all, with wearied horses but in ranks of unbroken
firmness, came the Stewartry men, headed by Godfrey McCulloch.

On Stair's Honeypot rode Patsy, ordering and ranging everything
everywhere. She was as calm as if on her own ground at Cairn Ferris, and
neither she nor any of the chiefs made any attempt at concealment. Only
some few of the rank-and-file, sons of lairds and functionaries, fiscals
and suchlike cattle, wore masks so as not to implicate their fathers.

"And now, MacJannet," it was Patsy's clear voice that rang out, "open
your old gates or we will