"And yet," observed Kirkpatrick, in a surly tone, "Heselrigge was one
of these people!"

Wallace turned upon him with a look of so tremendous a meaning, that,
awed by an expression too mighty for him to comprehend, he fell back a
few paces, muttering curses, but on whom could not be heard.

"That man would arouse the tiger in our lion-hearted chief!" whispered
Scrymgeour to Murray.

"Ay," returned Lord Andrew; "but the royal spirit keeps the beast in
awe-see how coweringly that bold spirit now bows before it!"

Wallace marked the impression his glance had made, but where he had
struck, being unqilling to pierce also, he dispelled the thunder from
his countenance, and once more looking on Sir Roger with a frank
serenity. "Come," said he, "my good knight; you must not be more
tenacious for William Wallace than he is for himself! While he
possesses such a zealous friend as Kirkpatrick of Torthorald, he need
not now fear the arms of a thousand Heselrigges."

"No, nor of Edwards either," cried Kirkpatrick, once more looking
boldly up, and shaking his broad claymore: "My thistle has a point to
sting all to death who would pass between this arm and my leader's
breast."

"May heaven long preserve the valiant Wallace!" was the prayer of every
feeble voice, as he left the hall to visit his own wounded, in an upper
chamber. The interview was short and satisfactory. "Ah! sir," cried