ingly despatched a messenger to Christie's Will, with the
laconic and emphatic demand--"Let the brock out o' the pock"--a return
of Will's own humorous message, which he well understood. Will and his
associates accordingly went about the important deliverance in a manner
worthy of the dexterity by which the imprisonment had been effected.
Having opened the door of his cell, they muffled him up in the same
black cloak in which he was enveloped at the Figgate Whins, and leading
him to the door, placed him on the back of a swift steed, while they
mounted others, with a view to accompany him. Setting off at a swift
pace, they made a circuit of the tower in which he had been confined,
and continuing the same circuitous route round and round the castle for
a period of two or three hours, they stopped at the very door of his
cell from which they had started. They then set him down upon the
ground, and again mounting their horses, took to their heels, and never
halted till they arrived at Gilnockie.

On being left alone, Durie proceeded to undo the cords by which the
cloak was fastened about his head; and, for the first time after three
months, breathed the fresh air and saw the light of heaven. He had
ridden, according to his own calculation, about twenty miles; and,
looking round him, he saw alongside of him the tower of Graeme, an old
castle he had seen many years before, and recollected as being famous
in antiquarian reminiscence. The place he had been confined in must
have been some castle twenty miles distant from Graeme's Tower--a
circumstance that would lead him, he thought, to discover the place
of his confinement, though he was free to confess that he was utterly
ignorant of the direction in which he had travelled. Thankful for his
deliverance, he fell on his knees, and poured out a long prayer of
gratitude for being thus freed from his enemies, Batty and Maudge. The
distance he had travelled must have taken him far away from the regions
of their influence--the most grateful of all the thoughts that now rose
in his wondering mind. No more would these hated names strike his ear
with terror and dismay, and no more would he feel the tyranny of their
demoniac sway. As these thoughts were passing through his mind a sound
struck his ear.

"Hey, Batty, lad!--far yaud, far yaud!" cried a voice by his side.

"God have mercy on me! here again," ejaculated the president.

"Maudge, ye jaud!" cried another voice, from the door