he memory
of what he had been so recently compelled to witness, could ill brook
the indignity thus offered to the defenceless girl. His weapon flashed
from its sheath on the instant, and for a few moments the two men cut
and thrust at each other with savage ferocity. Wallace, however, was
too young and unused to mortal strife to contemplate with indifference
the possibility of shedding the blood of a comrade. Quickly recovering
himself, he stood entirely on the defensive, which his vigorous activity
enabled him easily to do. Burning under the insult he had received,
Glendinning felt no such compunctions. He pushed his adversary
fiercely, and made a lunge at last which not only passed the sword
through the left sleeve of the youth's coat, but slightly wounded his
arm. Roused to uncontrollable anger by this, Will Wallace fetched his
opponent a blow so powerful that it beat down his guard, rang like a
hammer on his iron headpiece, and fairly hurled the man into the ditch
at the roadside.

Somewhat alarmed at this sudden result, the youth hastily pulled him
out, and, kneeling beside him, anxiously examined his head. Much to his
relief he found that there was no wound at all, and that the man was
only stunned. After the examination, Wallace observed that the girls
had taken advantage of the fray to make their escape.

Indignation and anger having by that time evaporated, and his judgment
having become cool, Wallace began gradually to appreciate his true
position, and to feel exceedingly uncomfortable. He had recklessly
expressed opinions and confessed to actions which would of themselves
ensure his being disgraced and cast into prison, if not worse; he had
almost killed one of his own comrades, and had helped two girls to
escape who could probably have assisted in the accomplishment of the
duty on which they had been despatched. His case, he suddenly
perceived, was hopeless, and he felt that he was a lost man.

Will Wallace was quick of thought and prompt in action. Carefully
disposing the limbs of his fallen comrade, and resting his head
comfortably on a grassy bank, he cast a hurried glance around him.

On his left hand and behind him lay the rich belt of woodland that
marked the courses of the rivers Cluden and Cairn. In front stretched
the moors and hills of the ancient district of Galloway, at that time
given over to the tender mercies of Graham of Claverhouse. Beside him
stood the two patient troop-hor