ng but the boy's words, and showing their fondness
and admiration for the romancer in each glance.

Walter was minstrel and prophet and historian to the boys of the
Canongate by the winter fire, as he was to be later to the whole nation
of Englishmen.

By the next day the snow had ceased falling, and the open squares of the
city presented the finest mimic battle-fields that could be imagined.
The boys of Edinburgh were divided into clans according to the part of
the city in which they lived, and carried on constant warfare as long as
winter lasted. Walter Scott and his brothers belonged to a clan that
made George's Square their headquarters, and their nearest and dearest
enemies were the boys of the Crosscauseway, a poorer section of the city
that lay not very far distant.

On the day the storm ceased Walter left his high stool and ponderous
book early and joined his friends in solid array in their square. While
they waited for the enemy to come up from the side street, the boys
built snow fortifications across the Square and stocked them with
ammunition sufficient to stand a siege. Still no enemy appeared, and,
eager for a chance to try their aim, the boys of the Square boldly left
their own haunts and proceeded down the Crosscauseway in search of the
foe.

The enemy's country lay through narrow winding streets, and there was
great need of care to avoid an ambuscade. Slipping from door to door,
from one point of vantage to the next, the boys made the whole distance
of the enemy's land without sight of an enemy. They came to the further
boundary and raised a cheer of defiance, when suddenly a hail-storm of
snowballs struck them, and from a side street the boys of the
Crosscauseway shot out. The invaders fired one round, then turned and
fled before a fierce charge.

Back the way they came the boys retreated, and after them came the enemy
pelting them without mercy and with good aim. In the van of the pursuit
ran a tall, fair-haired boy, who wore the bright green breeches of a
tailor's clerk, who was famous for his prowess in these schoolboy
battles, and who, because of his clothes, had been given the picturesque
nickname of "Green Breeks."

Young Scott and his friends ran back into their square, but the enemy
were close upon their heels. Green Breeks was now far in the lead of his
forces, so far in the lead that he might have been cut off had not the
pursued been panic-stricken. Over their own fortifications the b