The falconer and his young companion were now riding down the
Canongate, and had slackened their pace to avoid attracting attention,
the rather that there seemed to be no appearance of pursuit. Roland
hung his head as one who was conscious his conduct had been none of
the wisest, whilst his companion thus addressed him:
"Will you be pleased to tell me one thing, Master Roland Graeme, and
that is, whether there be a devil incarnate in you or no?"
"Truly, Master Adam Woodcock," answered the page, "I would fain
hope there is not."
"Then," said Adam, "I would fain know by what other influence or
instigation you are perpetually at one end or the other of some bloody
brawl? What, I pray, had you to do with these Seytons and Leslies,
that you never heard the names of in your life before?"
"You are out there, my friend," said Roland Graeme, "I have my own
reasons for being a friend to the Seytons."
"They must have been very secret reasons then," answered Adam
Woodcock, "for I think I could have wagered, you had never known one
of the name; and I am apt to believe still, that it was your
unhallowed passion for that clashing of cold iron, which has as much
charm for you as the clatter of a brass pan hath for a hive of bees,
rather than any care either for Seyton or for Leslie, that persuaded
you to thrust your fool's head into a quarrel that no ways concerned
you. But take this for a warning, my young master, that if you are to
draw sword with every man who draws sword on the Highgate here, it
will be scarce worth your while to sheathe bilbo again for the rest of
your life, since, if I guess rightly, it will scarce endure on such
terms for many hours--all which I leave to your serious
consideration.
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