if the holy Psalmist thought of rattling rhymes in
blether, like his own silly clinkum-clankum that he calls verse! Gude
help him! Two lines of Davie Lindsay wad ding a' that he ever clerkit!"

At last, after a weary waiting, the bell of the church of St. Mungo
tolled the hour of midnight. The echoes had not ceased upon the air when
a figure approached across the bridge, coming from the southern side.
The man was strong, thick-set, and wore a horseman's cloak wrapped about
him. But he passed without speaking, and held on his way to the farther
end of the bridge. There he turned, and meeting Frank full in face, bade
him follow him and he would know his reasons for thus warning him.

Frank first demanded to know who he was, and what were his purposes with
him.

"I am a man," was the reply, "and my purpose is friendly to you."

More than that he would not say. Frank could follow him or not, just as
he chose. Only if he did not, he would rue it all his life.

Furthermore, he stung the young man, perhaps intentionally, with the
taunt of being afraid. Frank cast back his words in his teeth. He was
young, active, armed, of a good conscience. Why then had he need to be
afraid?

"But," said the stranger, "if you are not afraid of what I can do to
you, do you not fear the consequences of being found in the company of
one whose very name whispered in this lonely street would make the
stones themselves rise up to apprehend him--on whose head half the men
in Glasgow would build their fortune as on a found treasure, had they
the luck to grip him by the collar--the sound of whose apprehension were
as welcome at the Cross of Edinburgh as ever the news of a field
stricken and won in Flanders?"

"And who, then, are you?" cried Frank, "whose name should create so deep
a terror?"

"No enemy of yours, since I am taking you to a place where, if I were
recognised, cold iron for my heels and hemp for my throat would be my
brief dooming."

Instinctively Frank laid his hand on his sword.

"What," said the stranger, "on an unarmed man and your friend?"

"I am ignorant if you be either the one or the other!" said Frank, "and
indeed your language and manner lead me to doubt both."

"Manfully spoken," said the unknown; "well, I will be frank and free
with you--I am conveying you to prison!"

"To prison," cried Frank, "and by what warrant--for what offence? You
shall have my life sooner than my liberty. I defy you! I will not follow