And then he appeared to forget my very existence. He fell into a sort
of trance, with his eyes fixed on vacancy. There was a dead hush in the
place, nothing but the crackle of the fire and the steady drip of the
rain. I endured it as well as I might, for though my legs were sorely
cramped, I did not dare to move an inch.

After nigh half an hour he seemed to awake. "Peace be with you," he
said to his followers. "It is the hour for sleep and prayer. I, John
Gib, will wrestle all night for your sake, as Jacob strove with the
angel." With that he entered the tent.

No one spoke to me, but the ragged company sought each their
sleeping-place. A woman with a kindly face jogged me on the elbow, and
from the neuk of her plaid gave me a bit of oatcake and a piece of
roasted moorfowl. This made my supper, with a long drink from a
neighbouring burn. None hindered my movements, so, liking little the
smell of wet, uncleanly garments which clung around the fire, I made my
bed in a heather bush in the lee of a boulder, and from utter weariness
fell presently asleep.




CHAPTER II.

OF A HIGH-HANDED LADY.

The storm died away in the night, and I awoke to a clear, rain-washed
world and the chill of an autumn morn. I was as stiff and sore as if I