more from his proximity to the place whence the screams had issued,
than from any thing that Patrick had said.
"True, I had forgotten," replied Patrick; "I did call, though not
on thee. But since thou art here, come lend me thy hand to pull up
the basket."
"Nay, Sir Knight; surely thou art demented by devilish influence. For
the love of all the saints!" cried Michael, quaking from head to foot;
"for the love of ----"
"Dastard, obey my command, or I will hurl thee over the rock!" cried
Patrick furiously, and with a manner that showed Michael that it was
time to obey. "Now, pull--pull steadily and firmly; pull away, I say!"
"Have mercy on us! have mercy on our souls!" cried Michael, pulling
most unwillingly.
"What a fiend are you afraid of? Why don't you pull, I say?" cried
the Knight again.
"Jesu Maria protect me! that I should have a hand in any such
work!" muttered Michael. "Oh holy Virgin! to have thus to deal with
the Devil himself!"
"Come! pull!--pull away, I tell ye--pull! aye, there!" cried Patrick
Stewart, as the basket at last came to the top of the rock.
"Preserve us all!" cried Michael; "the water-kelpie, sure enough! Mercy
on us, what a fearful red beard! what terrible fiery eyes! For the
love of heaven, Sir Knight, let him down again!"
"Coward!" cried Patrick, "if you let go the rope, I'll massacre
thee! Now, do you hear? pull the creel well out this way.--Ha, that
will do!--Now I think it is safe."
"Oh, may the blessed saints reward thee!" said a little shred of a man,
who now arose, shaking in a palsy of cold and wet, from the midst of
at least a dozen large salmon, with which the creel was heaped up;
"Thou hast saved me from the most dreadful of deaths."
"How camest thou there?" demanded Patrick Stewart; "answer quickly,
for we are in haste."
"Oh, I know not well how I got there," said the little man, shivering
so that he could hardly speak. "I stept aside from the path, just
to take a look down to see if there were any salmon in the creel,
when something took my foot, and over I went. Oh, what a providence
it was that ye came by! Another hour, and I must have been dead from
cold and wet, and buried in salmon, for they were flying in upon me
like so many swallows. I thought they would have choked me."
"Here," said Patrick Stewart, taking out a flask, "take a sup of this
cordial; it will speedily restore thee."
"Oh, blessings on thee, Sir Knight!" said the little man; "I will
drink thy health with good will. But tell me thy name, I pray thee,
that I may know, and never forget, who it was that saved my life."
"I am Patrick Stewart of Clan-Allan," replied the knight
carelessly. "Come now, Michael, we must tarry here no longer."
"Sure I am that I shall never forget the name of Sir Patrick Stewart,"
said the little man, whilst he was following them along the narrow
path, as they retraced it towards the place where they had left the
Lady Catherine; "and if ever I can do thee a good turn I shall do it,
though it were by the sacrifice of my life."
Catherine's fears were soon allayed by the explanation that was given
her. She was again put into the litter, which was quickly shouldered
by her protectors, the little man lending them a willing helping hand;
and Patrick and Michael proceeded on their way, whilst the half-drowned
wretch went up the glen, pouring out blessings upon them. Without fear
or interruption they now passed by the spot which had occasioned them
so much dread and delay, and they soon left the roar of the lynn behind
them, and at length reached the ravine of Cuachan Searceag, where, much
to their relief, they found the whole of the party anxiously waiting
for them. When the Forbeses beheld Patrick Stewart, and, above all,
when they beheld their young mistress, the daughter of their Chief,
safe and well among them, they rent the air with shouts of joy that
made the whole glen ring again.
"Aye," said Patrick Stewart, as they sat down to rest a little while,
and to take some hasty refreshment, "We may now make what noise we
list, for, if the whole gang of these accursed Catteranes should
come upon us, we have brave hearts and keen claymores enow to meet
them. But, for all that, we have too precious a charge with us to
tarry for the mere pleasure of a conflict; so be stirring my men,
and let us breast the hill as fast as may be."
You may all well enough guess, gentlemen, how Patrick Stewart
was received by the old Lord of Curgarf when he entered his hall,
leading in his fair daughter safe and sound. The joy of the father
was not the less, that his son, Arthur the Master of Forbes, had
returned but a brief space of time before, jaded, dispirited, and
sorrowful, from his long, tiresome, and fruitless expedition. Worn
with anxiety, the old man had counted watch after watch of the night,
and the day and the night again, until his son's arrival, and then
he had sunk into the most overwhelming despair. After pouring forth
thanks to Heaven, and to all the saints, he now gave way to his
joy. The midnight feast was spread, and all was revelry and gladness
in the castle. Patrick Stewart was now viewed by him as his guardian
angel. Seeing this, Arthur Forbes took an opportunity of advising his
friend to profit by the happy circumstance which had now placed him
so high in his father's good opinion. He did so--and the result was,
that he obtained the willing consent of the old Lord of Curgarf to
his union with his daughter, the Lady Catherine, with the promise of
a tocher which should be worthy of her.
The happiness of the lovers was now complete, and the next day was
spent in open and unrestrained converse between them. The time was
fixed for the wedding, and then it was, after all these arrangements
had been made, that Patrick Stewart first had leisure fully to recall
to mind, all those afflicting circumstances which had taken place
when he last saw his brother Walter. He thought of his father--he felt
the necessity of going immediately home, to relieve any anxiety which
his father, Sir Allan, might have, in consequence of his unexplained
absence, as well as to make him acquainted with his approaching
marriage. He accordingly took a tender leave of his fair bride that
evening, and, starting next morning, he made his way over the hills
to Drummin.
Patrick Stewart was already within sight of home, when his attention
was arrested by the blast of a bugle, which rang shrilly from the hill
above him. It conveyed to him that private signal which was always
used between his brother Walter and himself. For the first time in his
life it grated harshly in his ear, for it immediately brought back to
his recollection those oppressively painful circumstances which had
occurred at Dalestie, which he had so studiously endeavoured to banish
from his memory. But the strong tide of brotherly affection within him
was too resistless not to sweep away every feeling connected with the
past. He applied his bugle to his lips, and returned the call; and,
looking up the side of the hill, he beheld Walter, and a party of the
Clan-Allan, hastening down through the scattered greenwood to meet him.
"Thanks be to Heaven and good Saint Hubert that I see thee safe, my
dearest Patrick," said Sir Walter, hurrying towards him, and warmly
embracing him. "Hast thou forgiven a brother's anger and unkindness?"
"Could'st thou believe that I could for a moment remember it, my dear
Walter?" replied Patrick, returning his embrace.
"Where in the name of wonder hast thou been wandering?" demanded Sir
Walter. "Where hast thou been since that night--that night of justice,
yet of horror--when you disappeared so mysteriously? Since that moment,
when I returned home and found thee not, I have done little else,
night or day, but travel about hither and thither, anxiously seeking
for tidings of thee."
"Let us walk apart," said Patrick in his ear, "and I will tell thee
all that has befallen me."
"Willingly," said Sir Walter in the same tone; "for, in exculpation
of myself, I would now fain pour into thy private ear all those
circumstances which secretly urged me to execute that stern act of
justice and necessity, which then thou could'st not comprehend, and
against which thy recoiling humanity did naturally enough compel thee
so urgently to protest."
Arm in arm the two brothers then walked on alone, at such a distance
before their clansmen as might insure the perfect privacy of their
talk, and long ere they reached Drummin, they had fully communicated
to each other all that they had mutually to impart. Old Sir Allan had
been querulous and impatient about Patrick's absence, and he had been
every now and then peevishly inquiring about him. But now that his
son appeared, he seemed to have forgotten that he had not been always
with him. He was pleased and proud when the contemplated marriage was
communicated to him, and he enjoined Sir Walter to see to it, that
every thing handsome should be done on the occasion. In this respect,
Sir Walter's generosity required no stimulus; and if Patrick was
dissatisfied at all, it was with the over liberality which his brother
manifested, which, in some particulars, he felt inclined to resist.
"Patrick," said Sir Walter aside to his brother, with a more than
ordinarily serious air, "I give thee but thine own in advance. One
day or other it will be all thine own. There is something within me
that tells me that I am not long for this world. The last words of
that wretch, delivered to me, as I told thee, from the midst of those
flames that consumed him, were prophetic. But, be that as it may,
I have never had thoughts of marrying, and now I am firmly resolved
that I never shall marry, so that thou art the sole prop of our house."
The entrance of the retainers, and the spreading of the evening meal,
put a stop to all farther conversation between the brothers. Patrick
had not yet seen either the Lady Stradawn, or her son Murdoch. On
inquiry, he was told that Murdoch had gone on some unknown expedition
on the previous day, and that he had not yet returned. A circumstance,
so common with him, excited no surprise. As for the Lady Stradawn,
she now came swimming into the hall, with her countenance clothed
in all its usual smiles. Her salutation to her stepsons was full
of well-dissembled warmth and affection. She hastened, with her
wonted affectation of fondness, to bustle about Sir Allan, with the
well-feigned pretence of anxiety to attend to his wants, after which
she took her place at the head of the board. It was then that Patrick's
eyes became suddenly fixed upon her with a degree of astonishment,
which, fortunately for him, the busy occupation of every one else at
the table left them no leisure to observe. To his utter amazement,
he beheld in her bosom that very garnet brooch which he had given
to Catherine Forbes! His first impulse was to demand from her an
explanation of the circumstances by which she had become possessed of
it; but a little reflection soon enabled him to control his feelings,
though he continued to sit gazing at the well-known jewel, altogether
forgetful of the feast, until the lady arose to retire to her chamber.
"My dearest Sir Allan," said she, going up to the old knight's chair
to bestow her caresses on him ere she went; "My dearest Sir Allan,
thou hast eaten nothing for these two days. What can I get for thee
that may tickle thy palate into thy wonted appetite? Said'st thou not
something of a deer's heart, for which thou hadst a longing? 'Tis a
strange fancy, I'm sure."
"Oh, aye! very true,--a deer's heart!" said the doting old man. "Very
true, indeed, my love. I did dream--oh, aye--I dreamed, I say,
Bella, that I was eating the rosten heart of a stag--of a great
hart of sixteen, [4] killed by my boys on the hill of Dalestie--aye,
aye--and with arrows feathered from an eagle's wing. As I ate, and
better ate, I always grew stronger and stronger, till at length I was
able to rise from my chair as stoutly as ever I did in my life--ouch,
aye! that day is gone! Yet much would I like to eat the rosten heart
of a deer; but it would need to be that of a great hart of sixteen."
"My dear father, thou shalt not want that," said Sir Walter; "thou
shalt have it ere I am a day older, if a hart of sixteen be to be
found between this and Loch Aven."
"Aye, aye, Walter boy, as thou sayest," said the old man; "a great hart
of sixteen--else hath the heart of the beast no potency in't--aye,
and killed with an arrow feathered from an eagle's wing--och,
aye--hoch-hey!"
Though the two brothers were satisfied that this was nothing but
the drivelling of age, they were not the less anxiously desirous
to gratify their father's wish to the very letter. Accordingly,
the necessary orders were given, and the trusty Dugald Roy [5] was
forthwith summoned to prepare six arrows, which would have been easily
supplied, with the small portions of feather which were necessary
for them, from the eagle wing in Sir Walter's bonnet. But Sir Allan
stopped him as he was about to tear it off.
"What, Sir!" exclaimed the old man testily, and in a state of agitation
that shook every fibre of his frame like a palsy;--"What! wouldst
thou shear the eagle plume of my boy Walter, thou ill-omened bird
that thou art? Yonder hangs mine; it can never more appear bearing
proudly forward in the foremost shock of the battle-field. Och,
hey, that is true! Take that, thou raven! Thou may'st rend it as ye
list. But, my boy's!--the proud plume of mine eldest born boy!--thou
shalt never take that!"
"I crave your pardon, Sir Knight," replied Dugald Roy; "and now I think
on't, I need not take either, for I have some spare wing feathers in
my store that will do all the turn."
The next morning saw Sir Walter and his brother Patrick early on foot,
dressed in their plainest hunting attire, stretching up the valley at
the head of their attendants. Each of the brothers had three of the
eagle-winged arrows stuck into his belt; for, as both were dexterous
marksmen, and as they had resolved to use their shafts against nothing
else but a great hart of sixteen, they felt themselves to be thus
most amply provided to insure success. Fortune was somewhat adverse
to them, however; for although they saw deer in abundance, they found
themselves in this very part of the valley, when the day was already
far spent, without having once had a chance of effecting their object.
"Look ye there, brother Walter!" at length cried Patrick Stewart
suddenly, as he pointed to a hart with a magnificent head, which
was crossing to this side of the river, at the ford you see above
yonder. "Look ye there brother! there he goes at last!"
"By the rood, but that is the very fellow we want," replied Sir
Walter. "Watch him! See!--he takes the hill aslant. He will not go far,
if we may judge from his present pace."
"I saw him walk over that open knoll in the wood high up yonder,"
said Patrick, after some minutes of pause. "He has no mind to go
farther than the dip of the hill above. I think that we are sure of
finding him there. What say you brother?"
"Thou art right, Patrick," said Walter. "Then do thou run on, and take
the long hollow in the hill-side, beyond the big pine tree yonder. I
will follow up the slack behind us here. Let your sweep be wide,
that we may be sure of stalking well in beyond him, so that, if we
fail of getting proper vantage of him, we may be sure that we drive
him not farther a-field. Let us take no sleuth-hound, nor bratchet
neither, lest, perchance, we cause him alarm. You, my merry men,
will tarry here for us with the dogs."
Off went the two brothers, each in his own direction, and each with his
bow in his hand, and his three arrows in his belt. In obedience to Sir
Walter's directions, Patrick hurried away to the great pine tree, and
then began his ascent through the long hollow in the woody mountain's
side with all manner of expedition. After a long and fatiguing climb,
he began to use less speed and more caution, as he approached nearer to
the somewhat less steep ground, where his hopes lay. Then it was that
he commenced making a long sweep around, stealing silently from tree
to tree, and concealing himself, as much as he could, by keeping their
thick trunks before him, and creeping along among the heather, where
such a precaution was necessary. Having completed his sweep to such
an extent as led him to believe that he had certainly got beyond the
hart, he was about to creep down the hill, in the hope of soon coming
upon him, when he chanced to observe a great uprooted pine, which
lay prostrated a little way farther on, and somewhat above the spot
where he then was, its head rising above the heather like a great green
hillock. Thinking that he might as well have one peep beyond it before
he turned downwards, and wishing to avail himself of its shade to mask
his motions, he took a direct course towards it. But it so happened,
that the hart had found it equally convenient for the same purpose,
as well as for a place of outlook, for it had taken post close to it,
on the farther side. Descrying Patrick Stewart through an accidental
opening in the foliage, and having no fancy to hold nearer converse
with him, the creature moved slowly away. His quick and practised
eye caught a view of it through the opening, as it was going away
up the hill, as it happened, in a direct line. Well experienced in
woodcraft, he, in a loud voice, called out "hah!" As is common with
red deer when in the woods, the hart made a sudden halt, and wheeled
half round to listen, and in this way he placed his broadside to the
hunter's eye. This was but for an instant, to be sure; but in that
instant Patrick Stewart's arrow, passing through the break in the
foliage of the pine, fixed itself deep into the shoulder of the hart.
"Clumsily done!" exclaimed Patrick Stewart from very vexation as he saw
the hart bound off. "I'll warrant me the arrow-head is deep into his
shoulder blade. One single finger's breadth more behind it would have
made him mine own, and with all the cleverness of perfect woodcraft."
Patrick, baulked and disappointed, now extended his sweep, and crossed
and re-crossed the ground, with the hope of meeting his brother Sir
Walter; but as he did not succeed in falling in with him, he followed
the track of the hart for some distance up the hill, until he lost
every trace of his slot upon the dry summit, after which he returned
with all manner of haste to make his way downwards to the party in the
valley below. This he did, partly with the expectation of meeting his
brother Sir Walter there, and partly with the intention of getting the
dogs, that he might make an attempt to recover his wounded hart. There
he found--not his brother Sir Walter--but his brother Murdoch--who
stood exulting over a dead stag. He was a great hart of sixteen,
just such an one as he himself had been after.
"Thou see'st that I have the luck," said Murdoch Stewart triumphantly.
"Whence camest thou, Murdoch? and how comes this?" demanded Patrick.
"All naturally enough, brother," replied Murdoch Stewart
carelessly. "As I was wandering idly on the hill-side above there,
I espied the people here below, so I came sauntering down to see what
they were about, and to hear news of ye all. But, as my luck would
have it, I had hardly been with them the pattering of a paternoster,
when the very hart that thou wentest after came bang down upon me--my
shaft fled--and there he lies. Mark now, brother, is he not well and
cleanly killed? Observe--right through the neck you see. But, ha!--it
would seem that thou hast spent an arrow too--for these fellows tell
me that thou tookest three with thee, and methinks thou hast but
twain left in thy belt."
"I used one against the hart I went after," said Patrick coldly.
"And missed him, brother--is't not so?" said Murdoch laughing. "Well,
I never hoped that I should live to wipe thine eye in any such
fashion; for these varlets all say that this is the very hart that
thou went'st after."
"Nay, then," replied Patrick with an air of indifference; "if this
be the hart I went after, I must have found another great hart of
sixteen the very marrow of him; and him I have so marked, that I'll
be sworn he will be known again; for I promise you that at this moment
he beareth wood on his shoulder as well as on his head."
"The hart thou sayest that thou sawest may be like Saint Hubert's
stag for aught I know," said Murdoch; "but it is clear, from all that
these fellows say, that there lies the very hart that thou went'st
forth to kill, and that is no arrow of thine that hath fixed itself
in his gullet."
"I did see a hart--draw my bow at a hart--and sorely wound a hart,"
said Patrick, rather testily; "and were it not that the scent is
cold, and the hour so late, I think that the sleuth-hounds there,
would soon help me to prove to thee that he is as fine a hart of
sixteen as this which thou hast slain."
"Cry your mercy, brother," said Murdoch; "I knew not that such great
harts of sixteen had been so rife hereabouts, as that one should
start up as a butt for thine arrow the moment that the other had
been lost to thee. Yet it is clear that thou hast spent an arrow upon
something.--Ha!--by the way--where is our brother Walter? They tell
me that he went up the hill-side with thee."
"After seeking for him on the hill-side in vain, I reckoned on finding
him here," replied Patrick. "But if he be within a mile of us I'll
make him answer."
He put his bugle to his lips, and awakened the echoes, with such
sounds as were understood between Sir Walter and himself; but the
echoes alone replied to him.
"He may have met with a deer which may have led him off in pursuit
over the hill," said Patrick.
"Aye," said Murdoch; "he may have fallen in with your hart of
sixteen--yea, or another, for aught I know, seeing that harts of
sixteen are now so rife on these hills."
"Fall in with what he might, he is not the man to give up his game
easily," said Patrick, somewhat keenly.
"Whatever may have befallen him," said Murdoch, "we can hardly hope
to see him hereabouts to-night."
"I hope we may see him at Drummin," said Patrick; "for as the night is
now drooping down so fast, he will most readily seek the straightest
way thither. So, as thou hast now made sure of a great hart of
sixteen for Sir Allan, we may as well turn our steps thitherward
without more delay."
On reaching Drummin, Patrick Stewart's first inquiry was for his
brother Sir Walter. He had not returned home; but it was yet early
in the night, and he might have been led away to such a distance as
to require the greater part of the night to bring him home. The hart
was borne up to the hall in triumph, and exhibited before Sir Allan,
with the arrow still sticking in his neck. The old man's countenance
was filled with joy and exultation when he beheld it. The Lady Stradawn
could not contain her triumph.
"So, Murdoch," said she, "thou art the lucky man who hath killed the
much longed for venison! Thou art the lucky man who hath brought thy
father the food for which his soul so yearneth! There is something
of good omen for thee in this, my boy!"
"A noble head!--a great hart of sixteen, indeed," said Sir Allan. "Aye,
aye, that is a head, that is a head indeed! Yet have I slain many as
fine in my time. Aye, aye,--but those days are gone; och, hey! gone
indeed. See what a cuach his horn hath. Yet that which I slew up
at Loch Aven had a bigger cuach than this one by a great deal. As
I live, you might have slaked your thirst from the hollow of it the
drowthiest day you ever saw. Yet this is a good hart--a noble hart of
sixteen,--aye, aye! hoch-hey! But, hey! what's this? A goose-winged
shaft? Did I not tell ye that my dream spake of an eagle's wing? His
heart will be naught after all--naught, naught--och, hey! och, hey!"
"Nay, we shall soon convince thee to the contrary, father," said
Murdoch, motioning to the attendants to lay the deer down upon the
hearth. "I will forthwith break him under thine own eye, and thou
shalt see, and judge for thyself."