"
"That is what we have heard," a man said. "We have made everything in
readiness to drive off our cattle to the fells; the beacons are all
prepared for lighting, from Berwick down to Carlisle; and assuredly the
Scotch will find little, near the border, to carry back with them.
"You are the son of stout John Forster of Yardhope Keep, are you not? I
saw you riding by his side, two months since, at Alwinton fair."
"Yes, I was there with him."
"He will have hot work, if a Scotch army marches into Tynedale. The
Bairds will be sure to muster strongly, and they won't forgive the last
raid on them; and whichever way they go, you may be sure that your
father's hold will receive a visit."
"It was but a return raid," Oswald said. "The Bairds had been down our
way, but a short time before, and lifted all the cattle and horses that
they could lay hands on, for miles round."
"That is true enough. We all know the thieving loons. But men remember
the injuries they have suffered, better than those they have inflicted;
and they will count Allan Baird's death as more than a set-off for a
score of their own forays."
"If we have only the Bairds to settle with, we can hold our walls
against them," Oswald said; "but if the whole of the Scotch army come
our way, we must do as you are doing, drive the cattle to the hills,
and leave them to do what harm they can to the stone walls, which they
will find it hard work to damage.
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