A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE
There was a moment's pause when the whole party had got out of the
hut; and the Highlander who assumed the command, and who, in
Waverley's awakened recollection, seemed to be the same tall
figure who had acted as Donald Bean Lean's lieutenant, by whispers
and signs imposed the strictest silence. He delivered to Edward a
sword and steel pistol, and, pointing up the track, laid his hand
on the hilt of his own claymore, as if to make him sensible they
might have occasion to use force to make good their passage. He
then placed himself at the head of the party, who moved up the
pathway in single or Indian file, Waverley being placed nearest to
their leader. He moved with great precaution, as if to avoid
giving any alarm, and halted as soon as he came to the verge of
the ascent. Waverley was soon sensible of the reason, for he heard
at no great distance an English sentinel call out 'All's well.'
The heavy sound sunk on the night-wind down the woody glen, and
was answered by the echoes of its banks. A second, third, and
fourth time the signal was repeated fainter and fainter, as if at
a greater and greater distance. It was obvious that a party of
soldiers were near, and upon their guard, though not sufficiently
so to detect men skilful in every art of predatory warfare, like
those with whom he now watched their ineffectual precautions.
When these sounds had died upon the silence of the night, the
Highlanders began their march swiftly, yet with the most cautious
silence. Waverley had little time, or indeed disposition, for
observation, and could only discern that they passed at some
distance from a large building, in the windows of which a light or
two yet seemed to twinkle. A little farther on the leading
Highlander snuffed the wind like a setting spaniel, and then made
a signal to his party again to halt. He stooped down upon all
fours, wrapped up in his plaid, so as to be scarce distinguishable
from the heathy ground on which he moved, and advanced in this
posture to reconnoitre. In a short time he returned, and dismissed
his attendants excepting one; and, intimating to Waverley that he
must imitate his cautious mode of proceeding, all three crept
forward on hands and knees.
After proceeding a greater way in this inconvenient manner than
was at all comfortable to his knees and shins, Waverley perceived
the smell of smoke, which probably had been much sooner
distinguished by the more acute nasal organs of his guide. It
proceeded from the corner of a low and ruinous sheep-fold, the
walls of which were made of loose stones, as is usual in Scotland.
Close by this low wall the Highlander guided Waverley, and, in
order probably to make him sensible of his danger, or perhaps to
obtain the full credit of his own dexterity, he intimated to him,
by sign and example, that he might raise his head so as to peep
into the sheep-fold. Waverley did so, and beheld an outpost of
four or five soldiers lying by their watch-fire. They were all
asleep except the sentinel, who paced backwards and forwards with
his firelock on his shoulder, which glanced red in the light of
the fire as he crossed and re-crossed before it in his short walk,
casting his eye frequently to that part of the heavens from which
the moon, hitherto obscured by mist, seemed now about to make her
appearance.
In the course of a minute or two, by one of those sudden changes
of atmosphere incident to a mountainous country, a breeze arose
and swept before it the clouds which had covered the horizon, and
the night planet poured her full effulgence upon a wide and
blighted heath, skirted indeed with copse-wood and stunted trees
in the quarter from which they had come, but open and bare to the
observation of the sentinel in that to which their course tended.
The wall of the sheep-fold indeed concealed them as they lay, but
any advance beyond its shelter seemed impossible without certain
discovery.
The Highlander eyed the blue vault, but far from blessing the
useful light with Homer's, or rather Pope's benighted peasant, he
muttered a Gaelic curse upon the unseasonable splendour of Mac-
Farlane's buat (i.e. lantern) [Footnote: See Note 1]. He looked
anxiously around for a few minutes, and then apparently took his
resolution. Leaving his attendant with Waverley, after motioning
to Edward to remain quiet, and giving his comrade directions in a
brief whisper, he retreated, favoured by the irregularity of the
ground, in the same direction and in the same manner as they had
advanced. Edward, turning his head after him, could perceive him
crawling on all fours with the dexterity of an Indian, availing
himself of every bush and inequality to escape observation, and
never passing over the more exposed parts of his track until the
sentinel's back was turned from him. At length he reached the
thickets and underwood which partly covered the moor in that
direction, and probably extended to the verge of the glen where
Waverley had been so long an inhabitant. The Highlander
disappeared, but it was only for a few minutes, for he suddenly
issued forth from a different part of the thicket, and, advancing
boldly upon the open heath as if to invite discovery, he levelled
his piece and fired at the sentinel. A wound in the arm proved a
disagreeable interruption to the poor fellow's meteorological
observations, as well as to the tune of 'Nancy Dawson,' which he
was whistling. He returned the fire ineffectually, and his
comrades, starting up at the alarm, advanced alertly towards the
spot from which the first shot had issued. The Highlander, after
giving them a full view of his person, dived among the thickets,
for his ruse de guerre had now perfectly succeeded.
While the soldiers pursued the cause of their disturbance in one
direction, Waverley, adopting the hint of his remaining attendant,
made the best of his speed in that which his guide originally
intended to pursue, and which now (the attention of the soldiers
being drawn to a different quarter) was unobserved and unguarded.
When they had run about a quarter of a mile, the brow of a rising
ground which they had surmounted concealed them from further risk
of observation. They still heard, however, at a distance the
shouts of the soldiers as they hallooed to each other upon the
heath, and they could also hear the distant roll of a drum beating
to arms in the same direction. But these hostile sounds were now
far in their rear, and died away upon the breeze as they rapidly
proceeded.
When they had walked about half an hour, still along open and
waste ground of the same description, they came to the stump of an
ancient oak, which, from its relics, appeared to have been at one
time a tree of very large size. In an adjacent hollow they found
several Highlanders, with a horse or two. They had not joined them
above a few minutes, which Waverley's attendant employed, in all
probability, in communicating the cause of their delay (for the
words 'Duncan Duroch' were often repeated), when Duncan himself
appeared, out of breath indeed, and with all the symptoms of
having run for his life, but laughing, and in high spirits at the
success of the stratagem by which he had baffled his pursuers.
This indeed Waverley could easily conceive might be a matter of no
great difficulty to the active mountaineer, who was perfectly
acquainted with the ground, and traced his course with a firmness
and confidence to which his pursuers must have been strangers. The
alarm which he excited seemed still to continue, for a dropping
shot or two were heard at a great distance, which seemed to serve
as an addition to the mirth of Duncan and his comrades.
The mountaineer now resumed the arms with which he had entrusted
our hero, giving him to understand that the dangers of the journey
were happily surmounted. Waverley was then mounted upon one of the
horses, a change which the fatigue of the night and his recent
illness rendered exceedingly acceptable. His portmanteau was
placed on another pony, Duncan mounted a third, and they set
forward at a round pace, accompanied by their escort. No other
incident marked the course of that night's journey, and at the
dawn of morning they attained the banks of a rapid river. The
country around was at once fertile and romantic. Steep banks of
wood were broken by corn-fields, which this year presented an
abundant harvest, already in a great measure cut down.
On the opposite bank of the river, and partly surrounded by a
winding of its stream, stood a large and massive castle, the half-
ruined turrets of which were already glittering in the first rays
of the sun. [Footnote: See Note 2.] It was in form an oblong
square, of size sufficient to contain a large court in the centre.
The towers at each angle of the square rose higher than the walls
of the building, and were in their turn surmounted by turrets,
differing in height and irregular in shape. Upon one of these a
sentinel watched, whose bonnet and plaid, streaming in the wind,
declared him to be a Highlander, as a broad white ensign, which
floated from another tower, announced that the garrison was held
by the insurgent adherents of the House of Stuart.
Passing hastily through a small and mean town, where their
appearance excited neither surprise nor curiosity in the few
peasants whom the labours of the harvest began to summon from
their repose, the party crossed an ancient and narrow bridge of
several arches, and, turning to the left up an avenue of huge old
sycamores, Waverley found himself in front of the gloomy yet
picturesque structure which he had admired at a distance. A huge
iron-grated door, which formed the exterior defence of the
gateway, was already thrown back to receive them; and a second,
heavily constructed of oak and studded thickly with iron nails,
being next opened, admitted them into the interior court-yard. A
gentleman, dressed in the Highland garb and having a white cockade
in his bonnet, assisted Waverley to dismount from his horse, and
with much courtesy bid him welcome to the castle.
The governor, for so we must term him, having conducted Waverley
to a half-ruinous apartment, where, however, there was a small
camp-bed, and having offered him any refreshment which he desired,
was then about to leave him.
'Will you not add to your civilities,' said Waverley, after having
made the usual acknowledgment, 'by having the kindness to inform
me where I am, and whether or not I am to consider myself as a
prisoner?'
'I am not at liberty to be so explicit upon this subject as I
could wish. Briefly, however, you are in the Castle of Doune, in
the district of Menteith, and in no danger whatever.'
'And how am I assured of that?'
'By the honour of Donald Stewart, governor of the garrison, and
lieutenant-colonel in the service of his Royal Highness Prince
Charles Edward.' So saying, he hastily left the apartment, as if
to avoid further discussion.
Exhausted by the fatigues of the night, our hero now threw himself
upon the bed, and was in a few minutes fast asleep.