"
"God forbid!" replied the pedlar; "do you ken so ill the customs of
our Scottish nation? That plump of spears that are spurring on so fast
are doubtless commanded by some wild kinsman of Morton, or some such
daring fear-nothing as neither regards God nor man. It is their
business, if they meet with any enemies, to pick quarrels and clear
the way of them; and the chief knows nothing of what happens, coming
up with his more discreet and moderate friends, it may be a full mile
in the rear. Were we to go near these lads of the laird's belt, your
letter would do you little good, and my pack would do me muckle black
ill; they would tirl every steek of claithes from our back, fling us
into a moss-hag with a stone at our heels, naked as the hour that
brought us into this cumbered and sinful world, and neither Murray nor
any other man ever the wiser. But if he did come to ken of it, what
might he help it?--it would be accounted a mere mistake, and there
were all the moan made. O credit me, youth, that when men draw cold
steel on each other in their native country, they neither can nor may
dwell deeply on the offences of those whose swords are useful to
them."
They suffered, therefore, the vanguard, as it might be termed, of the
Earl of Murray's host to pass forward; and it was not long until a
denser cloud of dust began to arise to the northward.
"Now," said the pedlar, "let us hurry down the hill; for to tell the
truth," said he, dragging Halbert along earnestly, "a Scottish noble's
march is like a serpent--the head is furnished with fangs, and the
tail hath its sting; the only harmless point of access is the main
body.
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