THE GOLD OF FAIRNILEE. 247

 

was really a gipsy from Yetholm, where the
gipsies live, and Scot or Southron was all one
to him.

When old Simon Grieve knew who the
people were that had taken the cows, he was
not long in calling the men together, and trying
to get back what he had lost. Early one
April morning, a grey morning, with snow in
the air, he and his spearmen set out, riding
down through the Forest, and so into Liddes-
dale. When they came back again, there were
great rejoicings at Fairnilee. They drove most
of their own cows before them, anda great many
other cows that they had not lost; cows of the
English farmers. The byres and yards were
soon full of cattle, lowing and roaring, very
uneasy, and some of them with marks of the
spears that had goaded them across many a
ford, and up many a rocky pass in the hills.

Randal jumped downstairs to the great hall,
where his mother sat. Simon Grieve was
telling her all about it.

‘“‘Sae we drave oor ain kye hame, my lady,”
he said, ‘“‘and aiblins some orra anes that was
na oor ain. For-bye we raikit a’ the plenishing
oot o’ the ha’ o’ Hardriding, and a_ bonny
burden o’ tapestries, and plaids, and gear we
hae, to show for our ride.” *

* «We drove our own cattle home, and perhaps some
others that were not ours. And we took all the goods out
of the hall at Hardriding, and a pretty load of tapestries,
and rugs, and other things we have to show for our ride.”