GHTS WITH FIRE

When Frank Osbaldistone, the Bailie, and Andrew Fairservice, set forward
toward the Highlands, their way lay for the first stage over barren
wastes, with the blue line of the Grampian Hills continually before
their eyes.

Andrew had as usual tried to cheat his master by getting rid of his own
pony and buying another on Frank's account. But the Bailie soon caused
Andrew to recover his old horse on the penalty of being at once haled
off to prison.

Night came on before the little party of three arrived at the inn of the
Clachan of Aberfoil, having previously crossed the infant Forth by an
ancient bridge, high and narrow.

The inn was a mere hovel, but the windows were cheerfully lighted up.
There was a sound of revelry within that promised good cheer to hungry
men, and the party were on the point of entering, when Andrew
Fairservice showed them a peeled wand which was set across the half-open
door.

"That means," he said, "that some of their great men are birling at the
wine within, and will little like to be disturbed."

It proved to be even so. The landlady was most anxious to keep them out.
They could get rest and shelter, she promised them, within seven
Scottish miles--that is to say, within at least double that number of
English ones. Her house was taken up, and the gentlemen in possession
would ill like to be intruded on by strangers. Better gang farther than
fare worse.

But Frank, being an Englishman and hungry for his dinner, was ready to
do battle against all odds in order to get it.

The interior of the inn of Aberfoil was low and dark. The smoke of the
fire hung and eddied under the gloomy roof about five feet from the
ground. But underneath all was kept clear by the currents of air that
rushed about the house when the wind blew through the wicker door and
the miserable walls of stone plastered with mud.

Three men were sitting at an oak table near the fire. Two of these were
in Highland dress, the first small and dark, with a quick and irritable
expression of countenance. He wore the "trews" of tartan, which in
itself showed him a man of consideration. The other Highlander was a
tall, strong man, with the national freckled face and high cheekbones.
The tartan he wore had more of red in it than that of the other. The
third was in Lowland dress, a bold, stout-looking man, in a showily
laced riding-dress and a huge cocked hat. His sword and a pair of
pistols lay on the table before hi