I had two views. The first was, naturally, to get clear of
Edinburgh Castle and the town, to say nothing of my fellow-
prisoners; the second to work to the southward so long as it was
night, and be near Swanston Cottage by morning. What I should do
there and then, I had no guess, and did not greatly care, being a
devotee of a couple of divinities called Chance and Circumstance.
Prepare, if possible; where it is impossible, work straight
forward, and keep your eyes open and your tongue oiled. Wit and a
good exterior--there is all life in a nutshell.

I had at first a rather chequered journey: got involved in
gardens, butted into houses, and had even once the misfortune to
awake a sleeping family, the father of which, as I suppose, menaced
me from the window with a blunderbuss. Altogether, though I had
been some time gone from my companions, I was still at no great
distance, when a miserable accident put a period to the escape. Of
a sudden the night was divided by a scream. This was followed by
the sound of something falling, and that again by the report of a
musket from the Castle battlements. It was strange to hear the
alarm spread through the city. In the fortress drums were beat and
a bell rung backward. On all hands the watchmen sprang their
rattles. Even in that limbo or no-man's-land where I was
wandering, lights were made in the houses; sashes were flung up; I
could hear neighbouring families converse from window to window,
and at length I was challenged myself.

'Wha's that?' cried a big voice.