Chapter 22 - Page 2

Lisbeth Doak and long Sam'l from Pyotdykes were pairing that year, and
never knew how near they were to being dirked by Corp of Corp, who,
lurking in the burn till there were no tibbits in his toes, muttered
fiercely, "Cheep one single cheep, and it will be thy hinmost,
methinks!" under the impression that Methinks was a Jacobite oath.

For this voluntary service, Stroke clapped Corp of Corp on the shoulder
with a naked sword, and said, "Rise, Sir Joseph!" which made Corp more
confused than ever, for he was already Corp of Corp, Him of Muckle
Kenny, Red McNeil, Andrew Ferrara, and the Master of Inverquharity
(Stroke's names), as well as Stab-in-the-Dark, Grind-them-to-Mullins,
and Warty Joe (his own), and which he was at any particular moment he
never knew, till Stroke told him, and even then he forgot and had to be
put in irons.

The other frequenters of the lair on Saturday nights (when alone the
rebellion was active) were the proud Lady Grizel and Widow Elspeth. It
had been thought best to make Elspeth a widow, because she was so
religious.

The lair was on the right bank of the burn, near the waterfall, and you
climbed to it by ropes, unless you preferred an easier way. It is now a
dripping hollow, down which water dribbles from beneath a sluice, but at
that time it was hidden on all sides by trees and the huge clods of
sward they had torn from the earth as they fell. Two of these clods were
the only walls of the lair, which had at times a ceiling not unlike
Aaron Latta's bed coverlets, and the chief furniture was two barrels,
marked "Usquebach" and "Powder." When the darkness of Stroke's fortunes
sat like a pall upon his brow, as happened sometimes, he sought to drive
it away by playing cards on one of these barrels with Sir Joseph, but
the approach of the Widow made him pocket them quickly with a warning
sign to his trusty knight, who did not understand, and asked what had
become of them, whereupon Elspeth cried, in horror:

"Cards! Oh, Tommy, you promised--"

But Stroke rode her down with, "Cards! Wha has been playing cards? You,
Muckle Kenny, and you, Sir Joseph, after I forbade it! Hie, there,
Inverquharity, all of you, seize those men."

Then Corp blinked, came to his senses and marched himself off to the
prison on the lonely promontory called the Queen's Bower, saying
ferociously, "Jouk, Sir Joseph, and I'll blaw you into posterity."

It is sable night when Stroke and Sir Joseph reach a point in the Den
whence the glimmering lights of the town are distinctly visible. Neither
speaks. Presently the distant eight-o'clock bell rings, and then Sir
Joseph looks anxiously at his warts, for this is the signal to