As evening drew on, the old warder of Traquair Castle beheld a sight that caused him to rub his eyes in the fear that they were misleading him. A horseman bearing the guise of a Roundhead trooper, his steel cap glittering, approached the ancient stronghold. That such a man dared set foot on Scottish soil and ride thus boldly to the home of the most noted Royalist on the Border seemed incredible, but the warder was not to be caught napping, and he gave orders that the gates be closed and guarded, for the Border was ever a land of surprises, and one must take all precaution. Doubtless this lone trooper had a company concealed somewhere, and was advancing to parley, although he carried no flag of truce. He came on with a fine air of indifference, and stopped when he found his way barred, sitting carelessly on his horse with an amused smile on his lips.

“What’s yer wull, surr?” demanded the warder from the wall.

“That’s it,” replied the horseman.

“Whut’s it? I dinna unnerstaun’ ye.”

“Wull’s ma name,” said the rider with an accent as broad as that of his questioner. “Wuz that no’ whut ye were spierin’? Dinna staun glowerin’ there, Jock Tamson, like an oolet or a gowk. Can ye no’ see Ah’m English? Gang awa’ and tell yer maister that a freen o’ Crummle’s at th’ door an’ craves a word wi’ him.”

“Dod!” cried the Bewildered warder, scratching his head, “if ye hae a tongue like that on ye since ye crossed the Border, ye’ve made the maist o’ yer time.”

“Is the Yerl o’ Traquair in?”

“He’s jist that.”

“Then rin awa’ an’ gi’e ma message, for Ah’m wet an’ tired an’ hungry.”

The warder sought Traquair in his library, where he sat, an anxious man, with many documents spread out on a table before him.

“Yer lordship, there’s a soldier in the uniform of the English rebels at th’ gates, wha says he’s a freen o’ Crummle’s, and begs a word wi’ ye.”

“Ah!” said the Earl, frowning, “they’ve caught poor Armstrong, then, and now, in addition to our troubles, we’ll need to bargain with that fiend Noll to save his neck. Everything is against us.”

“He may be an Englisher, but he’s got a Scotch accent as broad as th’ Tweed.”

“He’s one of our countrymen fighting for Cromwell, and therefore thought by that shrewd villain the better emissary. Bring him in.”

“There may be others o’ his like in hiding, ma Lord.”

“Close the gates after him, then, and keep a strict watch. There’s no danger on that score yet, but lippen to nothing. This man’s just come to strike a bargain, an’ I’m afraid we must dance to the tune he pipes. Bring him in.”

When William and the warder came in together, a moment or two passed before the Earl recognized his visitor, then he sprang forward and held out both his hands.

“In God’s name, Armstrong, is this you?” he cried. “What have they done to you? Save us all! Who has shorn and accoutred you like this?”

“The necessities of the chase, Traquair. This is a disguise, and although you saw through it, I’m happy to think I deluded Jock Tamson there.”

“Losh!” cried Tamson, peering forward, “ye’ll never threep doon ma throat that this is Wull Armstrong.”

“Sir William, if you please, Tamson,” corrected the new knight. “The title was bestowed upon me by his Majesty himself, and I shall expect that deference from the lower orders, Tamson, which the designation calls for. Still, Jock, I’ll forgive your familiarity if you’ll help me off with this helmet, that seems glued to my skull.”

The old man grasped the edges of the steel cap with both his hands when Armstrong bent his head. He braced his foot against that of the helmet-wearer, and pulled with all his might, but his strength was unequal to the task.

“Lord pity us!” growled Will, “catch me ever putting my head in a trap like this again. I’ll have to take it off with a boot-jack.”

“Bring in Angus,” laughed the Earl, “he’ll pull either the helmet or the head off you.”

The huge Angus came lumbering in after the warder, who went in search of him.

“Have you had your supper, Angus?” asked the Earl.

“Yes, ma lord.”

“Then let us see what strength it’s given you. Tug this iron pot from Armstrong’s head.”

Angus, bracing himself as the warder had done, jerked ineffectually several times.

“Pull, ye deevil,” cried Armstrong. “Ye’ve no more strength than a three-year-old wean.”

“Ah’m feart to thraw yer neck,” protested Angus.

“Never mind the neck. Being hanged by Cromwell is as nothing to this. Pull, ye gomeral! Am I to go about with my head in a metal bucket all my life? Pull!”

Angus put forth his strength, and the helmet gave way with unexpected suddenness, whereupon Angus sat down on the floor with a thud like an earthquake, the steel cap in his lap. Traquair slapped his thigh and roared till the rafters rang.

“Will, you’ll be an inch taller after that. I never saw the like of it. I’ve heard that a man’s head grows with new honors placed upon him, but I had no idea it was so bad as that. Man, where’s your hair? And did they chop it off with a battle-axe? If that’s a fair example of barber’s work in England, I’m glad I live in Scotland.”

Armstrong rubbed his shorn head slowly with his open palm.

“A barber may have other qualities than expertness with the shears,” he said.

“The trick of the shears is surely the chief equipment for the trade.”

“Yes. You’re in the right. My hair was cut in a stable-yard under the moonlight, with great haste and blunt blades. We will see what your own poll-man can do in still shortening the result. I have been hotly chased, Traquair, and hair-cutting was the least drawback that troubled me. I think my tailoring is even worse than my barbering, and there, also, you must stand my friend. Is the Castle tailor out of work?”

“My whole wardrobe is at your disposal, Will.”

“Nothing in it would fit me, and I am a thought particular about a new dress, as I have lost all self-respect in this one. I may borrow a hat from you, if you have one of the latest fashion, with a fine feather on it.”

“Aha! What’s come over you, Will? Some lady in the Court of Charles? You didn’t fash much over your clothes in the old days.”

“I don’t fash much now, as you may see by my array. Still, it is n’t duds, but food that is the first necessity. I’ve had nothing all day but a hurried drink out of the Eden. It was as thick as brose, and about the same colour, but not so sustaining.”

“They’re preparing supper for you now, and I’ll bear you company when it’s ready. I’m eager to hear what befell. So the King knighted you. Deed, he might have gone farther than that and made you a marquis or a duke at the same cost.”

“Oh, he offered me anything in his gift if I brought the commission safely through to you,—a promise that I’m thinking I’ll never trouble him to redeem. Nevertheless, here’s the packet, a little damp, but none the worse for that.”

He placed the cause of all the trouble on the table, and Traquair turned it over and over in his hands, with no great delight in its possession, as the messenger thought. The Earl sighed as he opened it at last and slowly perused its contents in silence, laying it on the table again when he had finished.

“You’re a wonderful man, William,” he said. “If every one in Scotland did his duty as thoroughly as you do it, we would soon place the King on his throne again.”

“Is there more trouble brewing?”

“More trouble, and the old trouble, and the new trouble. Every one pulling his own way, and in all directions, thinking only of himself, and never by any chance of the interests of the whole.”

“May I tell Cromwell that? He seemed at some pains to intercept a billet that you receive but lightly.”

“Tell Cromwell! You’re never going to write to that scoundrel?”

“I intend to see him before the week is past.”

“What! You’re not such a fool as to put yourself in Cromwell’s clutch again?”

“Just that.”

“Will, I wonder at you. Angus got the steel bonnet off you with some work, but no man in Scotland can get Cromwell’s rope off your neck if once you thrust your head through the noose.”

“Cromwell’s not such a fool as to hang me. If he did, it would but unite your wavering hosts like an invasion of Scotland.”

“It would be a heavy price to pay for union, Will.”

“The price will never be paid. Cromwell knows what he wants, and he does n’t want me now, however anxious he was for my company this morning.”

“Have you actually seen him?”

“I met him the first day I crossed the Border. I saw him once again, and I travelled over most of England on a pass from his own hand. Cromwell and I have a mutual respect for each other by this time, but there are some matters of difference between us that I think will best be settled by word of mouth, so I’m off day after to-morrow to foregather with him. I cannot go sooner, because my new gear will not be ready, and I want to give the General time to withdraw his troops from across the country, so that I may come on him in other fettle than as a prisoner.”

“Who is the woman, Will? I knew you would go clean daft when you met her.”

“Never you mind. As the Border is a land of nobility and romance, we will call her an Earl’s daughter to please you.”

“More like some peasant girl who assisted you to escape from your enemies.”

“Well, whoever she is, Traquair, I’ll make her Mrs. Armstrong when I get the chance.”

“Lady Armstrong, you mean. You’re forgetting your new dignity. Surely if the case stands thus you will ask the King to fulfill his promise and make you a baron at the least.”

“That will I not. I’ll trouble the badgered man no further.”

“I know the ways of the sex better than you do, and I warrant you the lady will give you no rest until the title’s yours, whenever she knows you have earned it and have had the offer of it.”

“She thinks less of these things than I do, even.”

“Then she is no peasant lass.”

“I never said she was.”

At this point, greatly to the delight of Armstrong, whose answers were becoming more and more short, his supper was announced, and Traquair with his arm over the shoulder of his guest, led him to the dining-room.

The tailor came when supper was finished, and measured his new customer, received minute directions concerning the garments, and retired protesting he would do his best in the limited time allowed him. The barber operated as well as he could on a head that began to nod in spite of the efforts of its owner. Sleep laid its heavy hand on Armstrong, and the voice of Traquair sounded distant and meaningless, something resembling the rush of Eden water in his ears, whereupon William nearly got those useful members cropped in earnest. At last he found himself in his room, and, for the first time since he left that hospitable mansion, enjoyed the luxury of lying between clean sheets with his clothes off. Then he slept as dreamlessly as his ancestors.