ght and left, as if desirous of escaping an
encounter which seemed inevitable. But if such were his object, the
stoppage, although momentary, was already too long, for ere he could
deflect his course, the foremost of the horsemen was upon him, a well
known noble of the Scottish Court.

"Out of the way, fellow!" cried the rider, and, barely giving him time
to obey, the horseman struck at the pedestrian fiercely with his whip.
The young man's agility saved him. Nimbly he placed his back against
the wall, thus avoiding the horse's hoof and the rider's lash. The
victim's right hand made a swift motion to his left hip, but finding
no weapon of defence there, the arm fell back to his side again, and
he laughed quietly to himself. The next motion of his hand was more in
accordance with his station, for it removed his bonnet, and he stood
uncovered until the proud cavalcade passed him.

[Illustration: "OUT OF THE WAY, FELLOW!"]

When the street was once more clear and the echoing sounds had died
away in the direction of the castle, the youth descended and descended
until he came to the lower part of the town where, turning aside up a
narrow lane, he knocked at the door of a closed and shuttered
building, evidently an abiding place of the poorer inhabitants of
Stirling. With some degree of caution the door was slightly opened,
but when the occupant saw, by the flash of light that came from
within, who his visitor was, he threw the portal wide and warmly
welcomed the newcomer.

"Hey, guidman!" he cried, "ye're late the night in Stirling."

"Yes," said the young man stepping inside, "but the farm will see
nothing of me till the morning. I've a friend in town who gives me a
bed for myself and a stall for my horse, and gets the same in return
when he pays a visit to the country."

"A fair exchange," replied the host as he closed and barred the door.

The low room in which the stranger found himself was palpably a
cobbler's shop. Boots and shoes of various sizes and different degrees
of ill repair strewed the floor, and the bench in the corner under a
lighted cruzie held implements of the trade, while the apron which
enveloped the man of the door proclaimed his occupation. The incomer
seated himself on a stool, and the cobbler returned to his last,
resuming his interrupted work. He looked up however, from time to
time, in kindly fashion at his visitor, who seemed to be a welcome
guest.

"Well," said the shoemaker with a lau