With the early part of the seventeenth century, moss-trooping in the
Border country had not yet come to an end. Its glory, no doubt, and its
glamour, had begun to fade before even the sixteenth century was far
spent, and where were now to be found heroes such as the far-famed
Johnnie Armstrong of Gilnockie? Yet, as a few stout-hearted leaves,
defiant of autumn's fury, will cling to the uttermost branches of a
forest tree, so, in spite of King or Court, there were even now some
reckless souls, scornful of new-fangled modern ways and more than
content to follow in the footsteps of their grandsires, who still held
fast to precept and practice of what seemed to them "the good old days."
It is true their reiving partook now somewhat more of the nature of
horse-stealing pure and simple. No longer were fierce raids over the
English Border permissible; not now could they, practically with
impunity, "drive" the cattle of those with whom they were at feud, and
live on the stolen beeves of England till such time as the larder again
grew bare. The times were sadly degenerate; Border men all too quickly
were becoming soft and effeminate.

Yet in Eskdale there was one patriot, at least, who boasted himself that
as his fathers had been, so was he. Willie Armstrong of Gilnockie was
that man--"Christie's Will," he was commonly called, a great-grandson of
the famous Johnnie, and not unworthy of his descent. Had he lived when
Johnnie flourished, there might indeed have been two Armstrongs equally
famous. As it was, Willie spent his days at constant feud with the law,
and even the strong walls of Gilnockie were not for him always a secure
shelter. Once it befell that the Lord High Treasurer of Scotland, the
Earl of Traquair, visiting Jedburgh, there found Willie lying in the
"tolbooth."

"Now, what's broucht ye to this, Gilnockie?" the Earl inquired.