Half an hour later, Adam Armstrong came out of the cottage where his son was lying. His mood had changed. He had gathered hope from Meg Margetson's confident assurances that there was ground for it.  
"Now, let us talk of what had best be done, Oswald," he said, as he led the way into the next cottage, where the woman at once turned her children out, and cleared a room for him.
 
"What force could you gather, Uncle?"
 
"In my grandfather's time," he said, "two hundred Armstrongs, and their followers, could gather in case of need; but the family was grievously thinned, in the days when Edward carried fire and sword through Scotland; and for the last fifty years Roxburgh and these parts have been mostly under English rule, and in that time we have never gathered as a family. Still, all my kin would, I know, take up this quarrel; and I should say that, in twelve hours, we could gather fifty or sixty stout fighting men.
 
"But the Bairds would be expecting us, and can put, with the families allied to them and their retainers, nigh three hundred men under arms. Their hold is so strong a one that it took fifteen hundred Englishmen, under Umfraville, three weeks to capture it. It was destroyed then, but it is stronger now than ever.
 
"Could we get aid from Roxburgh, think you?"
 
"I fear not, Uncle. I know that the governor has strict orders not to give Douglas any pretext for invading us, and to hold his garrison together; since the earl may, at any moment, endeavour to capture the town before help could arrive. And even were he to send four or five hundred men, the Bairds could hold out for a fortnight, at least; and long before this Douglas would be down, with an army, to his rescue.
 
"I have been talking it over with my trusty companion, here, and he agrees with me that, unless a body of men-at-arms that would avail to capture the fortalice by a sudden assault can be raised, we must trust to guile rather than force; and I propose that he and I shall, at once, start for the hold and see how matters stand, and where the prisoners are confined, and what hope there is of getting them free. I propose to send my other man to Yardhope, to tell my father what has happened, and to ask him to warn his friends to be ready to cross the border, and to join any force you can gather for an attack on the Bairds. It is true that stringent orders have been issued that there is to be no raiding in Scotland, but my father would not heed that for a moment. The attack that has been made upon you, the killing of his wife's sister, the wounding of Allan, and carrying off of his nieces would be deemed, by him, a grievance sufficient to justify his disregarding all orders. Besides which, he has the old grievance against the Bairds, which is all the more bitter since they led the Scots to attack Yardhope. I can guarantee that, when he gets word from you as to the day and place, he will meet you there with at least a hundred spears. It is true that, with this force and that which you can bring, he could not hope to capture the Bairds' hold; but together you could carry sword and fire through his district, before he could gather a force to meet you in the field."
 
"I fear that would not do, Oswald. William Baird would be capable of hanging the girls from the battlements, when the first fire was lit."
 
Oswald was silent. From the tales he had heard of the ferocity of these dreaded marauders, he felt that it was more than probable that his uncle was right.
 
"It seems to me," he said, after a pause, "that it were best for you to send two men to Parton; which is, as I have heard, though I have never been there, ten miles south of the Bairds'. Let them give the name of Johnstone; and, at the tavern where they put up, say they expect a relative of the same name. As soon as I can find out how the affair had best be managed, I will give them instructions as to the plans I propose. One will carry them to you, and the other to my father. Will Parton be a good place for you to join forces?"
 
"As well as any other, Oswald. Your plan seems to me a good one. At any rate, I can think of nothing better. My brain is deadened by this terrible misfortune. Had I my own will, I would ride straight to the Bairds' hold and challenge him and his brothers and sons to meet me, one after another, in fair combat; and should be well contented if I could slay one or two of them, before being myself killed."
 
"I can quite understand that, Uncle. But your death would be, in no way, an advantage to the girls; nay, would rather render them more helpless, therefore I pray you to let me carry things out as I have planned."
 
His uncle nodded.
 
"I shall send out a dozen runners to my friends," he said, "and beg them to be here tomorrow morning, early. Then, when I have talked matters over with them, I shall ride to Roxburgh and lay the matter before the governor. I know that I shall get no help from him; but at least, when he hears of a gathering here, he will know that 'tis with no evil intention against the English."
 
Ten minutes later, Oswald's messenger started for Yardhope, with a full account of the step he was taking, and of the arrangements that had been made. This done, he had a long talk with Roger.
 
"Now, Roger," he said, "this will be the most dangerous business in which we have been concerned; and I should not venture to undertake it, did I not know that I could rely, absolutely, upon you."
 
"I will do my best, master, and will adventure my life all the more willingly, since it is in the service of Allan and Janet Armstrong. They were always pleasant and friendly with me, at Yardhope, and I like them for themselves, as well as because they are your cousins. Now, master, what is to be done?"
 
"Have you your gown with you, Roger?"
 
"No, master. I know you always told me to take it with me, thinking that it might come in useful, and I carried it under my saddle all the time we were in Wales; but, seeing that this was but a ride to Jedburgh and back, I thought that there would be no occasion for it."
 
"That is unfortunate, Roger, for it is upon this that we must depend to get an entry into the Bairds' hold."
 
"Well, master, I can doubtless get some rough cloth of the colour, at Jedburgh; and indeed, there is a small monastery about three miles hence on the road, and it may be that, if Adam Armstrong will go with us and say wherefore it is wanted, the prior will let him have one."
 
"I will see him at once. No time must be lost. While he is away, you must shave your head again."
 
Roger's face fell.
 
"'Tis hard, master, after it has grown so well to match the rest. Still, for so good a purpose I must even give in."
 
On hearing what was wanted, Armstrong mounted and rode off at once and, while he was away, one of the villagers shaved the top of Roger's head again. In an hour, Armstrong brought back a monk's gown.
 
"He was loath to let me have it even, for such a purpose, though I told him that you were once a monk of the order. Finally he said that his conscience would not allow him to lend it, but that he would sell it to me for six pennies, which I gladly gave him."
 
"It is dark now," Oswald said, "and I know not the road. Can you give me some man to put me on the way? We will not make straight for the Bairds', but will strike the road from Glasgow, some ten or twelve miles north of his place, so that we can come down from that direction. Then our guide, after taking us on to the road, had best take charge of the horses and lead them to Parton, there to remain with them until your messenger, and the one from Yardhope, arrive. It would be as well to have the horses there, for we cannot know what need we may have of them."
 
"That I will arrange at once, Oswald. Is there aught else?"
 
"Yes, Uncle, I must leave my armour and clothes here, and borrow others that will pass as a disguise."
 
"How would you go, Oswald?"
 
"In truth, it is a difficult matter. That of a minstrel would be the best passport, but I know nought of harp or other instrument. I might go as a vendor of philters and charms, a sort of half-witted chap, whose mother concocted such things."
 
"They would never let you into the Bairds' castle, Oswald."
 
"Then I must be a rough man-at-arms, one who had been in the service of the Earl of March; and who, when he turned traitor and went over to the English, found himself without employment; and asked nothing better than to enter the service of someone who will give him bread and meat, in return for any services that he can render, whether in hunting up any cattle among the hills, or striking a shrewd blow in the service of his employer, if needs be."
 
"That must do, if we can think of nothing better, Oswald. I will speedily bring you the things you require, as they will be found in every house in the village; and some, alas! will be needed no more by those who wore them."
 
"They must be of good size, Uncle."
 
"Ay, ay, lad. There must have been some tall fellows, among those they slew today."
 
Half an hour later, Roger and Oswald mounted. His uncle sent two of his men with them, saying that it would look strange were one man to come, with two horses, to Parton; but that two, saying that their masters would follow, would seem a more probable tale.
 
"They will, if they can, find some quiet farmhouse a mile out of the village, and there get lodgings for themselves and beasts. You can arrange with them to take up their station on the road, so that you can, if needs be, find them."
 
It was with a sigh that Roger flung himself into the saddle. It was not the horse on which he had ridden there, but a strong, shaggy pony.
 
"He does not look much," one of the men said, "but there is no better horse, of the sort, in the country. He has both speed and bottom, and can carry you up or down hill, and is as sure-footed as a goat."
 
Roger had assented to the change, for his own horse was as unlike one that a monk would have bestrode as could be well imagined. He had obtained a stout staff, to which the village smith had added two or three iron rings at each end, rendering it a formidable weapon, indeed, in such hands.
 
"It reminds me of our start for Dunbar, master," he said. "One might have a worse weapon than this;" and he swung it round his head, in quarterstaff fashion; "still, I prefer a mace."
 
"That staff will do just as well, Roger. A man would need a hard skull, indeed, to require more than one blow from such a weapon."
 
Now that Adam Armstrong had done all that there was to do, he went again to the cottage where Allan lay. He had paid several visits there, in the afternoon; but there was nought for him to do, and no comfort to be gained from the white face of the insensible lad. Meg assured him, however, that he was going on as well as could be expected.
 
"He is in a torpor, at present," she said; "and may so lie for two or three days; but so long as there is no fever he will, I hope, know you when he opens his eyes. There is nought to do but to keep wet cloths round his head, and to put on a fresh poultice over the wound, every hour."
 
 Armstrong took his place by his son's pallet
Now Armstrong took his place by his son's pallet. For a time, the work of making preparations for Oswald's departure, and of sending off messages to his friends, had prevented his thoughts from dwelling upon his loss. Throughout the night, the picture of his home, as he had left it when he rode out that morning; and the thought that it was now an empty shell, his wife dead, his daughters carried off, and his son lying between life and death, came to him with full force, and well nigh broke him down.
 
In the meantime, the little party were making across the hills, and before morning they came upon the northern road, fifteen miles from the Bairds' hold. Here Oswald and Roger dismounted. It was arranged that the men should return with the horses into the hills, and should there rest until late in the afternoon, and then mount and ride for Parton. One or other of them was to come down, at seven o'clock each evening, to the road half a mile from the village; and was there to watch till nine. If no one came along, they were then to return to their lodging.
 
"I feel stiff in the legs, master," Roger said; "a fifty-mile ride, up and down the hills, is no joke after a hard day's work."
 
"They will soon come right again, Roger. I feel stiff, myself, though pretty well accustomed to horse exercise. However, when we present ourselves at the hold, dusty and footsore, we shall look our characters thoroughly."
 
Neither were sorry when they arrived at a small village, a quarter of a mile from the Bairds' hold. They went in together to the little ale house, and vigorously attacked the rough fare set before them.
 
"Hast thou travelled far?" their host asked, as he watched them eating.
 
"Indifferently far," the monk said: "'tis five-and-twenty miles hence to Moffat, and it would have seemed farther to me, had not this good fellow overtaken me, and fell in with my pace. He is good company, though monkish gowns have but little in common with steel pot and broadsword; but his talk, and his songs, lightened the way."
 
"Whither are you going, father?"
 
"I am making my way to Carlisle," he said. "I have a brother who is prior in a small monastery, there, and it is long since I have seen him. Who lives at the stronghold I saw on the hills, but a short distance away?"
 
"It is the hold of William Baird, the head of that family; of whom, doubtless, you may have heard."
 
"I have heard his name, as that of a noted raider across the border," the monk said; "a fierce man, and a bold one. Has he regard for the church? If so, I would gladly take up my abode there, for a day or two; for in truth I am wearied out, it being some years since my feet have carried me so long a journey."
 
"As to that, I say nothing," the host said. "It would depend on his humour whether he took you in, or shut the gates in your face without ceremony; but methinks, at present, the latter were more likely than the former; for his hold is full of armed men, and I should say it were wisest to leave him alone, even if you had but the bare moor to sleep upon."
 
"Nevertheless, I can but try," the monk said. "He may be in one of those good tempers you spoke of. And I suppose he has also a priest, in his fortalice?"
 
"Ay, the Bairds are not--but I would rather not talk of them. They are near neighbours, and among my very best customers."
 
As he spoke, four armed men came in at the door.
 
"Good day, Wilson! Whom have you here? An ill-assorted couple, surely. A monk, though a somewhat rough one, and a man-at-arms."
 
"Fellow travellers of a day," Roger said calmly. "We met on the road, and as I love not solitude, having enough and to spare of it, I accosted him. He turned out a good companion."
 
"You are a man of sinew yourself, monk, and methinks that you would have made a better soldier than a shaveling."
 
"I thought so sometime, myself," the monk said; "but my parents thought otherwise, and it is too late to take up another vocation, now."
 
"Is that staff yours?" the soldier asked, taking it up, and handling it.
 
"Yes, my son. In these days even a quiet religious man, like myself, may meet with rough fellows by the way; and while that staff gives support to my feet, it is an aid to command decent behaviour from those I fall in with. I have not much to lose, having with me but sufficient to buy me victuals for my journey to Carlisle; where, as I have just told our host, I am journeying to see a brother, who is prior at a convent there."
 
"This fellow--where did you fall in with him?"
 
"He overtook me some twenty miles north, on the road to Glasgow."
 
"And are you travelling to Carlisle, too?" the man said to Oswald.
 
"Nay," he said, "I purpose not going beyond the border. I have lost my employment, and have tried, in vain, to find another as much to my liking. I have come south to seek service, with one who will welcome a strong arm to wield a sword."
 
"Hast tried the Douglas?"
 
"No," he said, "the Douglas has men enough of his own, and methinks I should not care to be mewed up in one of his castles. I have had enough of that already, seeing that I was a man-at-arms with George Dunbar, till he turned traitor and went over to the English."
 
"You look a likely fellow; but, you know, we do not pay men, here, to do our fighting for us. 'Tis all very well for great nobles, like Dunbar and Douglas, ............