A low whistle, and the words, "Hisht, Elshie, hisht!" disturbed him
in this melancholy occupation. He looked up, and the Red Reiver of
Westburnflat was before him. Like Banquo's murderer, there was blood on
his face, as well as upon the rowels of his spurs and the sides of his
over-ridden horse.
"How now, ruffian!" demanded the Dwarf, "is thy job chared?"
"Ay, ay, doubt not that, Elshie," answered the freebooter; "When I
ride, my foes may moan. They have had mair light than comfort at the
Heugh-foot this morning; there's a toom byre and a wide, and a wail and
a cry for the bonny bride."
"The bride?"
"Ay; Charlie Cheat-the-Woodie, as we ca' him, that's Charlie Foster of
Tinning Beck, has promised to keep her in Cumberland till the blast blaw
by. She saw me, and kend me in the splore, for the mask fell frae my
face for a blink. I am thinking it wad concern my safety if she were
to come back here, for there's mony o' the Elliots, and they band weel
thegither for right or wrang.
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