"Haste, therefore," repeated the man; "my lord bids you haste to Sir
William Wallace, and require his hand to avenge his kinsman's blood,
and to free his countrymen from prison! These are your father's
commands; he directed me to seek you and give them to you."

Alarmed for the life of his father, Graham hesitated how to act on the
moment. To leave him seemed to abandon him to the death the others had
received; and yet, only by obeying him could he have any hopes of
averting his threatened fate. Once seeing the path he ought to pursue,
he struck immediately into it; and giving his signet to the servant, to
assure Lord Dundaff of his obedience, he mounted a horse, which had
been brought to the town end for that purpose, and setting off full
speed, allowed nothing to stay him, till he reached Dumbarton Castle.
There, hearing that Wallace had gone to Bute, he threw himself into a
boat, and plying every oar, reached that island in a shorter space of
time than the voyage had ever before been completed.

Being now conducted into the presence of the chief, he narrated his
dismal tale with a simplicity and pathos which would have instantly
drawn the retributive sword of Wallace, had he had no kinsman to
avenge, no friend to release from the Southron dungeons. But as the
case stood, his bleeding grandfather lay before his eyes; and the ax
hung over the heads of the most virtuous nobles of his country.

He heard the chieftain to an end, without speaking or altering the
stern attention of his countenance. But at the close, with an
augmented suffusion of blood in his face, and his brows denouncing some
tremendous fate, he rose. "Sir John Graham," said he, "I attend you."