THE AMBASSADOR OF FRANCE The Earl had almost arrived at the pavilion erected at the southern end of the jousting meadow, when a gust of cheering borne along the lines announced the arrival of a belated company.

The young man glanced northward with intent to discover, by their pennons, who his visitors might be.

But the distance was too great, and identification was made more difficult by the swarming of the populace round the newcomers.

So, being unable to make the matter out, Earl William despatched his brother David to bring him word of their quality.
Presently, however, and before David Douglas' return, shouts of "Avondale, Avondale!" from the men of Lanarkshire informed the young Earl of the name of one at least of those who had arrived.

A frown so quick and angry darkened his brow that it showed the consideration in which the Douglas held his granduncle James the Gross, Earl of Avondale.
"I hope, at least," he said in a low voice to Malise, who stood half a step behind him, "that my cousins Will and James have come with him.
They are good metal for a tourney, and worth breaking a lance with." By this time the banners of the visitors were discernible crossing the fords of Lochar, while high advanced above all private pennons two standards could be seen, the banner royal of Scotland, and close beside the rampant lion the white lilies of France.
"Saint Bride!" cried the Earl, "have they brought the King of Scots to visit me?
His Majesty had been better at his horn-book, or playing ball in the tennis court of Stirling." Then came David back, riding swiftly on his fine dark chestnut, which, being free from the mantle wherein the horses of knights were swathed, and having its mane and tail left long, made a gallant show as the lad threw it almost on its haunches in his boyish pride of horsemanship.
"William," said David Douglas, "a word in your ear, brother.