adpiece with a terrific thwack. Like a flash of lightning the club of
Wallace rang and split upon that of the other horseman, who fell
headlong to the ground.

Strong arms have seldom occasion to repeat a well-delivered blow. While
the soldiers lay prone upon the road their startled horses galloped back
the way they had come.

"That's unfort'nit," said Quentin. "Thae twa look like an
advance-gaird, an' if so, the main body'll no be lang o' gallopin' up to
see what's the maitter. It behoves us to rin!"

The only port of refuge that appeared to them as they looked quickly
round was a clump of trees on a ridge out of which rose the spire of a
church.

"The kirk's but a puir sanctuary nooadays," remarked the shepherd, as he
set off across the fields at a quick run, "but it's oor only chance."

They had not quite gained the ridge referred to when the danger that
Quentin feared overtook them. A small company of dragoons was seen
galloping along the road.

"We may gain the wood before they see us," suggested Will Wallace.

"If it _was_ a wud I wadna care for the sodgers," replied his comrade,
"but it's only a bit plantation. We'll jist mak' for the manse an' hide
if we can i' the coal-hole or some place."

As he spoke a shout from the troopers told that they had been seen, and
several of them leaving the road dashed across the field in pursuit.

Now, it chanced that at that quiet evening hour the young curate of the
district, the Reverend Frank Selby, was enjoying a game of quoits with a
neighbouring curate, the Reverend George Lawless, on a piece of ground
at the rear of the manse. The Reverend Frank was a genial Lowlander of
the muscular type. The Reverend George was a renegade Highland-man of
the cadaverous order. The first was a harum-scarum young pastor with a
be-as-jolly-as-you-can spirit, and had accepted his office at the
recommendation of a relative in power. The second was a mean-spirited
wolf in sheep's clothing, who, like his compatriot Archbishop Sharp, had
sold his kirk and country as well as his soul for what he deemed some
personal advantage. As may well be supposed, neither of those curates
was a shining light in the ministry.

"Missed again! I find it as hard to beat you, Lawless, as I do to get
my parishioners to come to church," exclaimed the Reverend Frank with a
good-humoured laugh as his quoit struck the ground and, having been
badly thrown, rolled away.

"That's because you trea