“Sholto—­yes; he is his father’s son and fought well.  He is a MacKim, and cannot do otherwise.  He will make a good knight, and, by Saint Bride, I will dub him one, ere this sun set, for his valiant laying on of the axe this day.”

The great muster was now over.  The tents which had been dotted thickly athwart the castle island were already mostly struck, and the ground was littered with miscellaneous debris, soon to be carried off in trail carts with square wooden bodies set on boughs of trees, and flung into the river, by the Earl’s varlets and stablemen.

The multitudinous liegemen of the Douglas were by this time streaming homewards along every mountain pass.  Over the heather and through the abounding morasses horse and foot took their way, no longer marching in military order, as when they came, but each lance taking the route which appeared the shortest to himself.  North, east, and west spear-heads glinted and armour flashed against the brown of the heather and the green of the little vales, wherein the horses bent their heads to pull at the meadow hay as their riders sought the nearest way back again to their peel-towers and forty-shilling lands.

It was at the great gate of Thrieve that the Earl called aloud for Sholto.  He had been speaking to his cousin William, a strong, silent man, whose repute was highest for good counsel among all the branches of the house of Douglas.

Sholto came forward from the head of his archer guard with a haste which betrayed his anxiety lest in some manner he had exceeded his duty.  The Earl bade him kneel down.  A little behind, the young Douglases of Avondale, William, James, and Hugh, sat their horses, while the boy David, who had been left at home to keep the castle, looked forth disconsolately from the window of the great hall.  On the steps stood the little Maid Margaret and her companion, Maud Lindesay, who had come down to meet the returning train of riders.  And, truth to tell, that was what Sholto cared most about.  He did not wish to be disgraced before them all.

So as he knelt with an anxious countenance before his lord, the Earl took his cousin William’s sword out of his hand, and, laying it on the shoulder of Sholto MacKim, he said, “Great occasions bring forth good men, and even one battle tries the temper of the sword.  You, Sholto, have been quickly tried, but thy father hath been long tempering you.  Three days agone you were but one of the archer guard, yesterday you were made its captain, to-day I dub you knight for the strong courage of the heart that is within, and the valiant service which this day you did your lord.  Rise, Sir Sholto!”

But for all that he rose not immediately, for the head of the young man whirled, and little drumming pulses beat in his temples.  His heart cried within him like the overword of a song, “Does she hear?  Will she care?  Will this bring me nearer to her?” So that, in spite of his lord’s command, he continued to kneel, till lusty James of Avondale came and caught him by the elbow.  “Up, Sir Knight, and give grace and good thank to your lord.  Not your head but mine hath a right to be muzzy with the coup I gat this day on the green meadow of the Boat Croft.”