"Is the prisoner safe?" said the well-known voice of Claverhouse; "look about for him, and dispatch the dog who is groaning there."
Both orders were executed. The groans of the wounded man were silenced by a thrust with a rapier, and Morton, disencumbered of his weight, was speedily raised and in the arms of the faithful Cuddie, who blubbered for joy when he found that the blood with which his master was covered had not flowed from his own veins. A whisper in Morton's ear explained the secret of the very timely appearance of the soldiers.
"I fell into Claverhouse's party when I was seeking for some o' our ain folk to help ye out o' the hands o' the whigs; sae being atween the de'il and the deep sea, I e'en thought it best to bring him on wi' me, for he'll be wearied wi' felling folk the night, an' the morn's a new day, and Lord Evandale awes'ye a day in ha'arst;
