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Maggie paled and involuntarily stepped nearer her father.

“The deils that they be; hoo did they get haud o’ him?” asked Mrs Forsyth.

“The story is sune tell’t,” replied her husband. “He was sent, as ye ken, wi’ a despatch to the lines; while there he took part in a bit skirmish, an’ the day after was found by the Yankees lyin’ wounded in the woods beside the body o’ a Yankee officer.”

“Weel, they canna hang him for that. Gin the Yankees will fecht, they maun expect to be kilt.”

“Ah, ye dinna understan. They say their officer wasna kilt in regular coorse o’ war. The body was scalped and carvt in a gruesome fashion, showing plainly the hand o’ the Indian, an’ they hold Mr Morton accountable.”

“But he didna scalp the Yankee?”

“True, gudewife, but he winna tell them wha did. His sword they found beside the corpse, showing they had been in mortal combat.”

“Is he sorely wounded?” asked Maggie.

“I canna say for that. It’s no likely, for they had him oot ae evening to hang him, and took a better thocht when he was below the gallows.”