At the gates of this frontier town he delivered his first summons of feudality.

For the burghers of Lanark were liegemen of the Douglases of Douglasdale, and were (though not with much good-will) bound to furnish service at call.
Sholto had some difficulty in making himself heard athwart the ponderous wooden gates, bossed with leather and studded with iron.

At first he shouted angrily to the silences, but presently nearer and nearer came a bellow as of a brazen bull, thunderous and far echoing.
"Fower o' the clock and a braw, braw morning." It was Grice Elshioner, watchman of the town of Lanark, evidencing to the magistrates and lieges thereof that he was earning his three shillings in the week--a handsome wage in these hard times, and one well able to provide belly-timber for himself and also for the wife and weans who, dwelling in a close off the High-street, were called by his name.
Sholto thundered again upon the rugged portal.
"Open there! Open, I say, in the name of the Earl of Douglas!" "Fower o' the morning! Lord, what's a' the steer?
In the name o' the Yerl o' Douglas! But wha kens that it isna the English?
Na, na, Grice Elshioner opens not to every night-raking loon that likes to cry the name o' the Yerl o' Douglas ower oor toon wa'!" And Grice the valorous would have taken him off with a fresh, sleep-dispelling bellow had it not been that he heard himself summoned in a voice that brooked no delay.
"Open, varlet of a watchman, or by Saint Bride I will have you swinging in half an hour from the bars of your own portcullis.

I who speak am Sholto MacKim, captain of the Earl's guard.

Every liegeman in the town must arm, mount, and ride this instant to Edinburgh.