'My arms,' he cried, 'bring me my arms! Ha hear ye that ?' and sure enough, 'St.David for De Brechin, and down with the Bruce!' resounded so close, that it seemed as if but the curtain separated the traitor from his kinsman and his king.

Never saw I the Bruce so fearfully aroused, the rage of the lion was upon him.

'Hear ye that ?' he repeated, as, despite my remonstrances, and these of the officers who rushed into the tent, he sprang from the couch, and, with the rapidity of light, assumed his long-neglected armor.

'The traitorous villain! would he beard me to my teeth?
By the heaven above us, he shall rue this insolence! Bring me my charger.

Beaten off, say ye?
I doubt it not, my gallant friends; but it is now the Bruce's turn, his kindred traitors are not far off, and we would try their mettle now.