Chapter 7

Now, Billy Berwick, keep good heart,
And of they talking let me be;
But if thou art a man, as I am sure thou art,
Come over the dike and fight with me.

Old Ballad.

THE Master of Ravenswood had mounted the ambling hackney which he before
rode, on finding the accident which had happened to his led horse, and,
for the animal's ease, was proceeding at a slow pace from the Tod's Den
towards his old tower of Wolf's Crag, when he heard the galloping of a
horse behind him, and, looking back, perceived that he was pursued by
young Bucklaw, who had been delayed a few minutes in the pursuit by
the irresistable temptation of giving the hostler at the Tod's Den some
recipe for treating the lame horse. This brief delay he had made up by
hard galloping, and now overtook the Master where the road traversed
a waste moor. "Halt, sir," cried Bucklaw; "I am no political agent--no
Captain Craigengelt, whose life is too important to be hazarded in
defence of his honour. I am Frank Hayston of Bucklaw, and no man injures
me by word, deed, sign, or look, but he must render me an account of
it."

"This is all very well, Mr. Hayston of Bucklaw," replied the Master
of Ravenswood, in a tone the most calm and indifferent; "but I have no
quarrel with you, and desire to have none. Our roads homeward, as well
as our roads through life, lie in different directions; there is no
occasion for us crossing each other."

"Is there not?" said Bucklaw, impetuously. "By Heaven! but I say that
there is, though: you called us intriguing adventurers."

"Be correct in your recollection, Mr. Hayston; it was to your companion
only I applied that epithet, and you know him to be no better."

"And what then? He was my companion for the time, and no man shall
insult my companion, right or wrong, while he is in my company."

"Then, Mr. Hayston," replied Ravenswood, with the same composure, "you
should choose your society better, or you are like to have much work
in your capacity of their champion. Go home, sir; sleep, and have more
reason in your wrath to-morrow."

"Not so, Master, you have mistaken your man; high airs and wise saws
shall not carry it off thus. Besides, you termed me bully, and you shall
retract the word before we part."

"Faith, scarcely," said Ravenswood, "unless you show me better reason
for thinking myself mistaken than you are now producing."

"Then, Master," said Bucklaw, "though I should be sorry to offer it to a
man of your quality, if you will not justify your incivility, or retract
it, or name a place of meeting, you must here undergo the hard