"Now," said the Earl, "hearken--this will I do and no other. I will
remain here and abide that which shall befall me, as is the will of
God. I am bound by a tie that I cannot break. What life is to another,
honour and his word must be to a Douglas. But I send your son Sholto
to you. I bid him ride fast to Galloway and bring all that are
faithful with speed here to Edinburgh. Go also into Douglasdale and
tell my cousin William of Avondale--and if he is too late to save, I
know well he will avenge me."

"O William Douglas, if indeed ye will neither fleech nor drive, I pray
you for the sake of the great house to send your brother David, that
the Douglases of the Black be not cut off root and branch. Remember,
your mother is sore set on the lad."

"I will not go," cried David, as he heard this; "by the saints I will
stand by my brother's shoulder, though I be but a boy! I will not go
so much as a step, and if by force ye stir me I will cry for the
guard!"

By this time the young David was leaning half out of the window, and
almost shouting out his words down to the unseen Douglases beneath.

"Go, Sholto," said the Earl, setting his hand on his squire's
shoulder. "You alone can ride to Galloway without drawing rein. Go
swiftly and bring back every true lad that can whang bow, or gar
sword-iron whistle. The Douglas must drie the Douglas weird. I would
have made you a great man, Sir Sholto, but if you get a new master, he
will surely do that which I had not time to perform."

"Come, Sholto," said his father, "there is a horse at the outer port.