pelessly up at a darkening sky. Then he went to the
lean-to where his horse was stalled. The beast was fresh, for it had
not been out for two days--a rough Forest shelty with shaggy fetlocks
and a mane like a thicket. Sim set his old saddle on it, and went back
to the house.

His wife was still asleep, breathing painfully. He put water on the
fire to boil, and fetched a handful of meal from the ark. With this he
made a dish of gruel, and set it by the bedside. He drew a pitcher of
water from the well, for she might be thirsty. Then he banked up the
fire and steeked the window. When she woke she would find food and
drink, and he would be back before the next darkening. He dared not
look at the child.

The shelty shied at a line of firelight from the window, as Sim flung
himself wearily on its back. He had got his long ash spear from its
place among the rafters, and donned his leather jacket with the iron
studs on breast and shoulder. One of the seams gaped. His wife had
been mending it when her pains took her.

He had ridden by Commonside and was high on the Caerlanrig before he
saw signs of men. The moon swam in a dim dark sky, and the hills were
as yellow as corn. The round top of the Wisp made a clear mark to ride
by. Sim was a nervous man, and at another time would never have dared
to ride alone by the ruined shieling of Chasehope, where folk said a
witch had dwelt long ago and the Devil still came in the small hours.
But now he was too full of his cares to have room for dread. With his
head on his breast he let the shelty take its own road through the
mosses.

But on the Caerlanrig he came on a troop of horse. They were a lusty
crowd, well-mounted and armed, with iron basnets and corselets that
jingled as they rode. Harden's men, he guessed, with young Harden at
the head of them. They cried him greeting as he fell in at the tail.
"It's Long Sim o' the Cleuch," one said; "he's sib to Wat or he wadna
be here. Sim likes his ain fireside better than the 'Bateable Land'."

The companionship of others cheered him. There had been a time, before
he brought Marion from Megget, when he was a well kenned figure on the
Borders, a good man at weaponshows and a fierce fighter when his blood
was up. Those days were long gone; but the gusto of them returned. No
man had ever lightlied him without paying scot. He held up his head
and forgot his cares and his gaping jackets. In a little they had
topped t