They were to start, well mounted on their market horses, the next morning at break of day, to ride all the way to Edinburgh.  In a moment I saw what I was called upon to do.  I left Jamie Todd with a big stick to keep the school in my place, while, with some farles of cake bread in my pocket, I took alone my way to Edinburgh.  Ten hours’ start I had; and though it be a far cry to the town of Edinburgh and a rough road, still I thought that I should be hardly bestead if I could not walk it in two days.  For my heart was sore to think of the want of sound doctrine that was about to fall upon the parish of Rowantree.  Indeed, I saw not the end of it, for there was no saying what lengths such a minister and his like-minded elders might not run to.  They might even remove me from some of my offices and emoluments.  And then who would train the Jamie Todds to give a reason of the faith that was in them before minister and elder?

So all that night I walked on sore-hearted.  It was hardly dark, for the season of the year was midsummer, and by the morning I had gone thirty miles.  But when I came on the hard “made” road again, I hasted yet more, for I knew that by the hour of eight Bauldy and his farmers would be in the saddle.  And I heard as it were the hoofs of the horses ringing behind me—­the horses of the enemies of sound doctrine; for the Accuser of the Brethren sees to it that his messengers are well mounted.  Yet though I was footsore, and had but a farle of oatcake in my pocket, I went not a warfare on my own charges.

For by the way I encountered a carrier in the first spring-cart that ever I had seen.  It was before the day of the taxes.  And, seeing the staff in my hand and the splashing of the moor and the peatlands on my knee-breeches, he very obligingly gave me a lift, which took me far on my journey.  When he loosed his horse to take up his quarters at an inn for the night I thanked him very cordially for his courtesy, and so fared on my way without pause or rest for sleep.  I had in my mind all the time the man I was to propose to the Lady Lochwinnoch.

I had not reached the city when I heard behind me the trampling of horses and the loud voices of men.  Louder than all I heard Bauldy Todd’s roar.  It was as much as I could do to make a spring for the stone-dyke at the side of the road, to drag myself over it, and lie snug till their cavalcade had passed.  I could hear them railing upon me as they went by.

“I’ll learn him to put notions into my laddie’s head!” cried Todd of Todston.

“We’ll empty the auld carle’s meal-ark, I’se warrant!” said Mickle Andrew.

“Faith, lads, we’ll get a decent drinking, caird-playin’ minister in young Calmsough—­yin that’s no’ feared o’ a guid braid oath!” cried Chryston of Commonel.

And I was trembling in all my limbs lest they should see me.  So before I dared rise I heard the clatter of their horses’ feet down the road.  My heart failed me, for I thought that in an hour they would be in Edinburgh town and have audience of my lady, and so prefer their request before me.