There were moments when Max began to feel doubtful; others when he
fancied it might be some deceptive marsh light; and then a great despair
came upon him, for, just as he had come to the hopeful conclusion that
there really was a cottage in the glen, where he could find rest, and
warmth, and food, the light suddenly disappeared, and he was in a
darkness which seemed to be, from the overshadowing mountains, even
deeper than the darkness of the mist.
That was but the fancy of the moment, for the stars gave him light
enough to slowly continue his way, but he stopped and hesitated as to
whether he should go on or go back.
The way along the edge of the loch was easy, and seemed to lead toward
the entrance of the glen. This side branch grew more difficult at every
step, and, as the light had disappeared, he felt it would be better to
go back, and he began to descend the rough way among the stones in the
bed of the stream, when, turning one of these, he happened to look back,
and there was the light burning clearly once more.
That was no marsh light, it was too clear and glowing, and, feeling
convinced now that it had only been hidden by some turn of the ravine or
interposing stone, he once more began to ascend the streamlet, till the
light, which he watched intently, suddenly again disappeared.
He stopped short and stepped back a couple of paces, when the light
reappeared; and, seeing that he was right, he pressed on, with the
result that at the end of a few minutes there was the light again.
Twice over it disappeared as he stumbled onward, but there it was again,
and growing so much plainer as he drew nearer, that it gradually took
the form of fire shining through an open door.
Convinced that it was either a little country inn or the home of some
shepherd, Max's hopes rose, and he stumbled on, hoping every minute to
come upon a path which should lead up to the door.
But he hoped in vain, though he had one satisfaction, that of seeing the
shape of a doorway quite plainly, and the flickering of a fire, which
some one must be in the act of stirring.
Directly after he saw the doorway darkened, as if somebody had passed
out, and his lips parted to call for guidance to the place, when he
heard a movement behind him, and, turning sharply, there was another
sound, as if a stone had fallen.
This made him turn round again toward the light, when, quick as thought,
something thick was thrown over his head and drawn close, a pair of
sinewy arms dashed his to his sides; he was drawn backward; some one
seized his legs, and, in spite of his straggles, he was lifted from the
ground, and two men seemed to be carrying him over a rugged way, now up,
now down.
He shouted and begged as well as his half-suffocated state would allow,
for the covering to be taken from his head, but the only response he
obtained was an angry shake and a tighter clasp of the arms about his
legs.
All at once he could see red light glowing through the great woollen
cloth which covered him, and he felt that he was thrown on the ground,
and that some one was binding his legs together. Directly after, his
arms were bound behind his back, he was placed in a sitting posture, and
the cloth was snatched from his head.
The glowing light of a fire shone right into his eyes, dazzling them, so
that for some few moments he could make out nothing but the fact that he
was in a stone-built hut, before a fierce fire, and that two
fierce-looking bearded men were glaring at him.
Before he could collect himself to speak, some one shouted from outside,
and one of his captors replied, but the Gaelic words were quite
unintelligible to the prisoner, as was also the conversation which
ensued between the two men before him, though it was apparent that one
was urging the other to do something from which he shrank.
"Hwhat will she want?" said the latter at last, in a harsh voice.
"I've lost my way in the mountains," said Max. "I'm tired and cold and
hungry. Please undo this rope; it hurts."
The man who had not spoken said something now to Max's questioner, and
it seemed that the words which had passed were translated, with the
result that he burst into a torrent of harsh-sounding speech, apparently
full of dissent.
This seemed to be the case, for the one who tried to speak English
exclaimed sharply,--
"She shall tell her a lee."
"I--I don't understand you," said Max.
"She came along wi' ta exciseman."
"No," said Max. "I came quite alone."
"Sassenach" was the only word which Max could make out in the dialogue
which followed, and this was at its height when a third fierce-looking
man came in, and the three laid their heads together, glancing toward
the door uneasily, and then at what seemed to be a great copper boiling
over the fire.
As they stood together, with the ruddy glow playing upon their fierce
countenances, it seemed to Max that he must have fallen into the hands
of Scottish freebooters, and the next thing he felt was that he should
be robbed and murdered, or the operations be performed in reverse
fashion.
The men's appearance was wild enough to have excited dread in one of
stouter nerves than Max Blande, who, faint and exhausted, lay there in
so helpless a plight that he was not in a condition to do more than
anxiously watch his captors, as they talked loudly in Gaelic and
gesticulated angrily.
To Max it seemed as if they were debating how he should be done to
death; and, in spite of the horror of the thought, he was so stunned, as
it were, his feelings were so deadened, that he did not feel the acute
dread that might have been expected. There was almost as much curiosity
in his feelings as fear, and he began at last to wonder why they did not
take his watch and chain, purse and pocket-book, both of which latter
were fairly well filled--his father having been generous to him when he
started upon his journey, and there having been absolutely no means of
spending money at Dunroe.
The debate grew more and more angry, the men evidently quarrelling
fiercely, but not a word could Max make out. Their actions, however,
seemed plain enough, as they all turned their eyes fiercely upon him,
and the effect was peculiar, for the ruddy firelight was reflected from
them, so that they seemed to glow as they suddenly made a dart at him,
two of the men dragging him unresisting to his feet, while the third,
before he could grasp his intention, flung the dingy old plaid which had
muffled him before, over his head, twisting it tightly about his throat.
Max uttered a hoarse cry, but it was smothered directly, and he gave
himself up for lost, as he was seized once more and hurried out into the
darkness. This much he knew by the absence of the light dimly shining
through the coarse woollen fabric which covered his head.
He was carried in this way for quite a quarter of an hour. Sometimes
they were going upwards and sometimes downwards; while he could gather
that the way chosen was terribly rough, from the manner in which he was
jerked about.
This went on till a dull sound came in a muffled way through the plaid,
and he gathered from this that they were approaching the falls he had
heard before, or else some others.
The sound of roaring water grew louder and louder, and now he knew that
they were climbing more slowly evidently upward, as if the ascent were
exceedingly steep. Then the sound of the water falling--a deep bass,
quivering roar--grew louder and louder; while, from being hot now almost
to suffocation, the perspiration gathered on his brow grew cold, and,
trembling with horror, he felt that the end was near, and that the
wretches who held him were about to throw him off into the fall whose
waters thundered in his ear.
He uttered a few wild cries for mercy, but they seemed to be unheard,
and, just when his agony was strained to the highest pitch, the roar
suddenly grew fainter, and the bearers paused on comparatively level
ground.
All at once one of the men unfastened the cords which confined him,
after which the other grasped his wrist, and he was forced to walk
onward at a rapid rate.
For some minutes he could hardly stumble along, his feet feeling numbed
and tingling sharply, but by degrees the normal sensation returned, and
he could feel that he was walking through short heather, and at times
over soft, springy grass.
At last he was so exhausted that he stumbled again and again, recovering
himself by an effort, and keeping on for another quarter of an hour,
when his legs gave way beneath him, and he sank upon his knees.
A low, guttural ejaculation from his conductor now reached his ears, and
he felt that the plaid was twisted quickly from his neck, the cool night
air fell upon his cheek, and he could see the stars indistinctly, as if
through a mist, as they suddenly grew dark, and then there was nothing.