Never a day or a night was there when Hall and his friend Reed
cantered together to meet some of the Scott or Elliot clan, or to rescue
a drove of cattle or sheep from them, or from some of the Croziers or
Turnbulls, but what Hall rode with murder in his heart. Reed was utterly
unconscious. There was no scheme that he did not confide to him whom he
took for his loyal friend, no success for which he did not jubilantly
claim Hall's sympathy and congratulations. He laid bare the whole of his
innocent heart, and Hall hated him all the more bitterly because of it.
"If he were not so handy with his Ferrara," brooded Hall.... "If only he
had been a little slower that time in getting out his dag when Nixon had
covered him." ... "If only his mare had not only stumbled, but had
fallen there by the peat hag when Sandy's Jock so near had him...."
To Hall of Girsonfield Providence seemed to take special care of
Percival Reed, for no other reason than to goad him to extremity. The
devils who possessed him were skilfully nursing their prey.
There came at last a day, when no raids were afoot, when Hall met some
of the Crozier clan, and opinions were frankly expressed with regard to
the keeper of Redesdale. Things had been going badly with the Croziers.
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