Scotland/Scots > Wilson's tales of the Borders and of Scotland > Volume 3

RATTLING, ROARING WILLIE.
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what he had already done, he gave chase, shouting out, as
he pursued, “ Down wi’ the tyrant, ye villains! By St.
Andrew, we’ll see wha’ll be doun first! If I dinna gie ye
yer kail through the reek, may I never chew cheese
again! ” And with this—for Willie was as supple of limb,
as dexterous and ready of hand—having overtaken the
hindmost of the fugitives, he ran the flying ruffian through
the back, who instantly fell forward on his face, a dead
man. Thinking he had now done enough, and not a little
exhaused with the exertions he had made, Willie, allowing
the last of his assailants to escape, flung himself on the
ground, to recover breath, exclaiming, as he did so, after a
long drawn respiration, “ Hech, but this has been a deevil
o’ a tench job! This kingcraft ’ill never do. Here have
I been as near murdered on account o’t as ony decent man
wad wish to be. I’ve nae notion o’ the tied ava, whar
ye’re cuttled up ae nicht like a sick wife, wi’ the best to
eat and drink, and the next to hae yer throat cut. It’s no
the thing, by ony means.”
Such were the reflections in which Willie indulged on
this occasion—an occasion which had shown him that the
life of a king, as kings and subjects were in Scotland in
his time, whatever respect it might procure him, in some
instances was one of no small peril. Although, however,
he had determined, from the experience which he had just
had of the dangers of royalty, to resign the character, and
disavow all claims to its dignities very shortly, he yet
resolved on going through with it for one day longer—
that is, until he had tried what sort of treatment it would
procure him at Braehead, whither, the reader will recollect,
he was now proceeding on the recommendation of the laird
of Whinnyhill.
In this resolution, therefore, he in a few minutes started
once more to his feet, and resumed his journey, leaving the
dead bodies of the slain where they had fallen; but not, it
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