the darkening they had come to Ninemileburn, where Harden's road
left theirs. Wat had them all into the bare dwelling, and another skin
of ale was broached. A fire was lit and the men sprawled around it,
singing songs. Then tales began, and they would have sat till morning,
had not Harden called them to the road. Sim, too, got to his feet. He
was thinking of the six miles yet before him, and as home grew nearer
his spirits sank. Dimly he remembered the sad things that waited his
homecoming.

Wat made him a parting speech. "Gude e'en to ye, Cousin Sim. Ye've
been a kind man to me the day. May I do as weel by you if ever the
fray gangs by the Cleuch. I had a coo o' yours in pledge, and it was
ane o the beasts the Musgraves speared. By the auld law your debt
still stands, and if I likit I could seek anither pledge. But there'll
be something awin' for rescue-shot, and wi' that and the gude wark
ye've dune the day, I'm content to ca' the debt paid."

Wat's words sounded kind, and no doubt Wat thought himself generous.
Sim had it on his tongue to ask for a cow--even on a month's loan. But
pride choked his speech. It meant telling of the pitiful straits at
the Cleuch. After what had passed he must hold his head high amongst
those full-fed Branksome lads. He thanked Wat, cried farewell to the
rest, and mounted his shelty.

The moon was rising and the hills were yellow as corn. The shelty had
had a feed of oats, and capered at the shadows. What with excitement,
meat and ale, and the dregs of a great fatigue, Sim's mind was hazy,
and his cheerfulness returned. He thought only on his exploits. He
had done great things--he, Sim o' the Cleuch--and every man in the
Forest would hear of them and praise his courage. There would be
ballads made about him; he could hear the blind violer at the Ashkirk
change-house singing--songs which told how Sim o' the Cleuch smote
Bewcastle in the howe of the Brunt Burn--ash against steel, one against
ten. The fancy intoxicated him; he felt as if he, too, could make a
ballad. It would speak of the soft shiny night with the moon high in
the heavens. It would tell of the press of men and beasts by the
burnside, and the red glare of Harden's fires, and Wat with his axe,
and above all of Sim with his ash-shaft and his long arms, and how
Harden drove the raiders up the burn and Sim smote them silently among
the cattle. Wat's exploits would come in, but the true glory was Sim's.
B