We were now drawing near the town. By and by we came to the mound known
as Christie's Mount, and soon we could see the Plain Stones before us.
As we swung round into the lower part of the High Street we heard sounds
of revelry coming from Lag's house at the corner of the Turnpike Wynd.
We crossed to the other side of the street and looked up. Every window
was a blaze of light. From an upper room came the sound of wild voices
of men far gone in their cups, and every now and then shouts of
laughter. One laugh, a great raucous bellow, dominated all the rest.
"That's Lag himsel'," whispered Hector. "Eh, it's awfu', awfu'. While
thae men o' blood are feastin' and drinkin' there, saints o' the
Covenant are sleepin' under the cauld sky awa' on the hills."
Suddenly out of the darkness stepped a soldier, who, seeing us gazing up
at the house approached, and as he passed scanned us keenly. I nudged
the packman with my elbow and at once he led the way up the High Street.
He did not speak until we were near the Tolbooth, then he whispered:
"Ay, ye'll min' what I tellt ye; it's true ye've to be carefu' what ye
say in the toon o' Dumfries. Dinna forget that. A scarlet-coated loon
like yon kens nocht aboot Horace, and he, worthy man, as always, has the
richt word for the occasion: '_Redeat miseris, abeat fortuna superbis._'
Ye can translate that literally for yersel', but I'll drap my renderin'
in yer lug." Putting his mouth close to my ear he whispered: "'May God
bless the puir hill-men, and damn Lag and a' his stiff-necked tribe.'
Noo a guid nicht tae ye; I'll meet ye the morn at six o'clock at the
Vennel Port."
With some difficulty, for it was dark and the streets were ill paved, I
betook me down the Vennel, and crossing the river made my way to my
lodgings. My sleep was dreamless, and when I awoke in the morning a
sparrow was twittering on the sill. I dressed quickly and went
downstairs. In the kitchen, I found the old woman sitting at a
well-scrubbed deal table. She had a pair of spectacles on her nose, and
on the table beside her lay an open Bible. She did not raise her eyes
at my approach, but continued to read in a sibilant whisper, keeping
time to the words as she pronounced them by beating the air with her
open hand. I waited patiently until her devotions were finished.
"A good morning to you, sir. Ha'e ye sleepit weel?" she asked.
"Thank you," I replied, "none better. I am sorry that I interrupted you
in your religious duties."
"Oh, ye didna interrupt me," she said; "besides, readin' the Book is no'
a releegious duty, it's a releegious privilege. Belike ye dinna ken the
difference. Nae doot that comes frae bein' a frien' o' Hector's--Hector
that is aye haverin' oot o' the auld heathen poets. If he kent as
muckle aboot the psalms o' a guid Presbyterian like Dauvit as he lets on
he kens aboot Horace, it wad, I'm thinkin', be a lot better for his
sowl, the silly auld gommeril. Wantin' tae mairry a lassie a quarter o'
a century younger than himsel'! Thank God she's got some o' the sense
o' her mither. She winna ha'e him! Noo, lad, yer parritch is ready and
I'll juist dish them for ye."
When my meal was over I entered into conversation with her again.
She had a caustic tongue and a good deal of quiet humour, and she
reminded me in some ways of Jean at Daldowie; and with the thought of
Daldowie came memories of my lost love. The mellow hand of the years
upon them may impart to our sorrows a fragrance that mitigates their
pain, but the wound in my heart was still a recent one, ready to bleed
at a touch.
Almost unable to restrain myself, I picked up my bonnet and going out
crossed the bridge and came down upon the Sands. Along their length was
stretched a number of booths, and the Sands themselves were thronged
with people. Apparently it was a market day. Leisurely, as I had
nothing else to do, I joined the crowd--buirdly, well-clad farmers;
robust looking farm-servants; sturdy farm wenches with large baskets of
butter and eggs upon their arms.
On the outskirts of the crowd a sailor, with a bronzed face and great
rings depending from his ears, was putting a monkey through a series of
antics to the amusement of the young men and women who stood around him
in open-mouthed amazement.
When I had grown tired of watching him I made my way to the Vennel Port,
and then I walked leisurely through the main streets of the old town.
When I came to its outskirts, just beside St. Michael's Church, I bought
some food and making my way to the river-side I followed its course
downwards. By and by I came to some rising ground, and climbing up made
my way through a rocky gorge and sat down on the soft turf beneath an
overhanging oak tree.
After a meal, I stretched myself upon my back, and pulling my bonnet
over my eyes composed myself to sleep. When I awoke I remembered that I
had promised to meet Hector at six o'clock. By the time I had retraced
my steps the appointed hour would be at hand. So I descended to the
river bank and made my way towards the Vennel Port.
Six o'clock was striking when I reached it, but Hector was not there.
Moment succeeded moment and still he did not come. Impatient I began to
walk up and down, crossing the Sands to look at the river where
fishermen were busy tempting the fish with their flies. I strolled back
again to the Vennel and walked up it for a short distance, descending
once again to the Port. There was no sign of Hector, and when the clock
struck seven and I realised that an hour had elapsed since I had come to
the trysting-place, anxiety assailed me. This was not like the packman.
Had some mischance befallen him? He had told me that his was dangerous
work, and I knew that he spoke the truth. One false step, and he would
be undone. At this very moment he might be in grave danger. Ill at
ease, I went up to the top of the Vennel, hoping to meet him. My quest
was vain! The clock struck eight: he had not yet appeared. As the time
dragged on its leaden way I remembered the long pathetic vigil I had
shared with Jean at Daldowie, and though the memory stabbed me to the
heart, I hugged it to me. The hour of nine struck on the Tolbooth
clock; still there was no sign of Hector. Twilight gathered and
deepened; the stars stole out, and still he did not come. When another
weary hour had passed I decided that it was useless to wait longer, so,
at the last stroke of the hour, I crossed the bridge and made for my
lodgings in Mitchell's Close. The good woman of the house had not yet
retired to rest, and I was fain to partake of the supper which she had
prepared for me.
During the meal I said nothing to her of my anxiety. Hector had warned
me to be careful in my speech, and, fortunately, she showed no curiosity
as to my doings. When supper was over I bade her good night and went to
my room. Before undressing and lying down, I looked through the window.
It was a quiet summer night. All the world seemed at peace; but some
dazed dread was knocking at the door of my heart and I was sore
troubled. Something must have happened to Hector--of that there could be
little doubt. For a time I lay awake in a maze of anxiety: and it was
not till after midnight had boomed from the Tolbooth clock, that languor
stole over me and I slept.
*CHAPTER XXX*
*IN THE TIGER'S DEN*
Suddenly I woke, startled. Some noise had disturbed me. I listened
intently. Nothing stirred in the house. I sat up in bed, and peered
into the darkness, only relieved by the fitful light of the moon
stealing through the window. What had wakened me? I waited anxiously;
then I heard three little taps, clear and metallic, upon the window. I
sprang up and looked out, and saw in the dim-lit courtyard the tall
figure of a man, who moved forward when he saw me, and I recognised the
wooden leg of Hector. Eagerly I undid the window, swinging it back
gently on noiseless hinges, and craned forward into the night. Hector
put a hand to his mouth, and whispered, "Wheesht! wheesht!" then walked
softly to the door of the house. Hastily throwing on some clothes I
crept on tip-toe downstairs, and opening the door admitted him to the
kitchen.
With uplifted finger he whispered, "Haste ye, and dinna wake the auld
woman. We'll talk on the road." As silently as possible I hastened to
my room and finished dressing; then, I rejoined the packman. As I
entered the kitchen he was lifting the poker from the fireplace.
"She'll understand--that's a sign," he said, as he laid it carefully on
the top of the table.
"But what," I whispered, "about paying her?"
"Dinna worry on that score," he said; "she kens me. That's eneuch.
There's danger afoot. Come on."
He led the way to the door, which he opened noiselessly and together we
passed out into the courtyard.
At the mouth of the close he paused and peered carefully in every
direction. Then he turned to me and whispered, "There's naebody aboot."
We passed quickly into the street, and, walking close to the houses so
that we were in their full shadow, we hurried away.
From the direction we took I judged that our path lay parallel to the
course of the river on the side opposite the town of Dumfries. We had
walked perhaps a mile before Hector again broke the silence. Still
whispering, he said:
"Man, I've had an awfu' day. Horace has the richt word every time:
'_Recenti mens trepidat metu_'--'My hert's a' o' a dither wi' fricht.'
What's yer name? ye've never tellt me."
For the first time it dawned on me that he did not know my name. He had
called me Joseph at the road-end when Dalzell had taken us unawares, but
since then the matter had never been mentioned between us. "My name is
Walter de Brydde," I said.
"Ay," he said, "but what name was ye kent by when ye were a trooper?"
"I called myself Bryden," I replied.
"That's it. It was you richt enough. Oh, I've had a terrible day. But
I had better begin at the beginning, and tell ye the hale story.
"This mornin' I left my lodgings wi' full purpose and intention o' gaun
to see the widda. Weel, it's a lang road and a drouthy, so before
leavin' the toon I drapped into the Hole i' the Wa', to ha'e a pint o'
tippenny. It's a hoose I aye frequent when I'm in Dumfries. Weel, as I
was tellin' ye, I was sittin' in the corner, and I'd juist passed the
time o' day wi' the landlord, when in daundered twa sodgers. As soon as
I saw the sicht o' their coats, my ears were cocked to catch their
words. They were talkin' as they cam' in. The ane was sayin' to the
ither; 'I could stake my life it was him.' They sat doon and ordered
their yill, and went on talkin'. I didna catch a' that they said, but
they hadna been talkin' long ere I guessed it was aboot you. I juist
got a word noo and again, but I've pit them thegither. They went
something like this:
"'Aye, at Wigtown, the nicht efter the women were drooned.'
"'Then what think ye he's daein' here?'
"'Oh, I canna tell that.'
"'I thocht ye had lang syne made up your mind that he had deid on the
moors like a braxy sheep. What's this they ca'd him?---- Oh,
ay,--Bryden. What mak's you think it was him?'
"'Weel, I saw him yesterday in the High Street. He had a week's growth
on his face, and that in itsel' is a disguise, and he walks wi' a limp,
which he didna dae when he was wi' us; but what jogged my memory was a
wee jerk he gied his shoothers. I couldna mind off-haun' where I had
seen it afore. Hooever, an 'oor afterwards when I was thinkin' o'
something else, it flashed across me that Bryden used to move his
shoother and his left elbow exactly that wey. So says I to masel',
that's the man; and I went back to the place where I'd seen him. Of
coorse he was there nae langer.'
"'What are ye gaun to dae? Ha'e ye tellt yer Captain yet?"
"'No' me! I'm no' sae saft. I'm keepin' my een open, an' if he's still
in Dumfries I'll be comin' across him ere lang and I'll arrest him on
suspicion, and tak' him afore Lag himsel'. Man, there's a price on his
heid.'
"Weel, I had learned a lot, and I knew it was you they were after, for I
ha'e noticed the jerk o' your left elbow tae. So I made up my mind that
afore I should gang oot to Locharbriggs I wad slip across to Phemie
McBride's and gi'e ye warning. So I finished my yill and paid my score
an' set oot.
"Juist as I was aboot to leave the close-mooth, a dragoon clapped me on
the shoother and said: "'You're Hector the packman, are ye no?'
"'Ay,' says I. 'What of it?'
"'Weel,' says he, 'ye maun come wi' me. Ye're wanted.'
"'Wanted?' says I. 'Wha wants me?'
"'Sir Robert Grier o' Lag. I've nae doot ye've heard tell o' him.'
"'Ay,' I answered, 'I ken Sir Robert weel. What does he want wi' me?'
"'Come and fin' oot for yoursel',' said he. 'An' ye'd better mak'
haste, for if we keep him waitin' there'll be hell to pey. Haste ye!'
"As we hurried doon tae Lag's hoose in the Plain Stanes, I began to
wonder if his summons could ha'e onything to dae wi' the little affair
you mind in the woods near New Abbey. I'm sayin' nae mair; even the
darkness may ha'e ears.
"Weel, by and by we cam' to the hoose at the end o' the Turnpike Wynd,
and I went up the stair wi' the trooper. He led me into a room, and we
waited there thegither. As we waited I heard Lag's voice comin' frae
the next room. He was swearin' in a wey the very deil himsel' couldna'
ha'e bettered. He was yellin' like ane possessed for cauld water, and as
I stood in the room a wee bit drummer boy cam' rinnin' up the stairs wi'
a pail o' water that he had brocht frae the Nith. As he passed through
the room where I was standin', it went jaup, jaup, jauppin' on the
floor. He knocked at Lag's door and syne went in, and I heard the water
being poured into a basin. Then I heard Lag shoutin', 'It's no cauld
ava. It's boilin', ye wee deevil! Get awa doon to the water for
anither pailfu',' and wi' fear on his face the wee laddie raced through
the room as shairp as a hare and clattered doon into the street.
"Weel, I waited wi' the trooper in the antechamber while the oaths frae
the other side o' the door cam' thick and fast. I may say I listened
wi' a kind o' admiration. Wi' some folk swearin' is naething mair than
a bad habit, but wi' Lag it seems to be a fine art. But that's by the
way. By and by the sodger that had brocht me took courage and knocked
at the door. It was opened by another trooper. The first trooper gave
him a message for Lag, and he shut the door and delivered it, for the
next thing I heard was Lag shoutin': 'Well, the packman maun juist bide
my time. I'm far ower bad to see him the noo!' so his body-servant cam'
oot again and tellt the trooper that had me in haun'. He took me awa'
doon the stairs to the kitchen where there was a lot mair sodgers.
Weel, ye ken, at this I was gey perplexed. Here was I, haeing promised
to ca' on the widda in the mornin', held a prisoner. And I had you on
my mind as weel, for frae what I heard in the Inn, you were in danger.
So I said to my guard:
"'If Sir Robert canna see me the noo, is there ony need for me to bide
here? I'll gi'e ye my promise to come back at four o'clock this
afternoon, when I hope Sir Robert will be able to see me.'
"'No, no,' said the sodger, 'that winna dae ava. I'm takin' nae risks.'
"Weel, there was nothing for it but that I should stop where I was,
though it was sair against the grain. Hooever, they produced a bottle o'
'Solway waters,'[#] and I'm bound to say they didna lack for
hospitality. Nothing loth, I took a drappie, and then I took anither,
and we began to talk merrily.
[#] Smuggled brandy.
"The mornin' slipped by, and still Lag wasna' ready to see me. Every
noo and then the wee drummer laddie raced through the kitchen wi'
anither pail o' water frae the Nith, and when he had disappeared wi' the
water jaup-jaupping ower the side o' the bucket, the troopers would
nudge each other and say 'Guid sakes, his feet maun be in hell already,'
and the callousness o' their words would mak' me shiver. Fegs, the
Latin has it best: '_Horresco referens_'--'It gies me a grue to think
o't.'
"By and by the clock struck one and we had oor dinner thegither. I'm
bound to say that if the troopers' 'Solway waters' was guid, the
victuals were likewise o' excellent quality, and I made a guid meal. It
was maybe twa o'clock when the sodger that had been in Lag's room cam'
doon into the kitchen. I thocht noo my 'oor had arrived and that I
should yet ha'e time to get oot to Locharbriggs afore I was due to meet
you. But nae sic luck! 'He's asleep noo,' he said. 'He's managed to
droon the pain in Nith water and a couple o' bottles o' Oporto.' Weel,
I saw that the outlook was no' very bricht for me; but I made anither
attempt to persuade my guard to let me away for an' 'oor or twa,
promisin' solemnly that I should return punctually. But he would ha'e
nane o't. So there I was, kept a prisoner, and the afternoon dragged
wearily by.
"At lang last six o'clock cam', and I knew that if you hadna fa'en into
the haun's o' the troopers you would be waitin' for me at the Port o'
Vennel. I was sair perplexed. I wondered if I daur bribe the wee
drummer to tak' a note to you, and I had framed a suitable epistle in
Latin that I jaloused nane o' thae ignorant troopers would understaun'.
Then I thocht better o't; for a note to you frae me micht direct their
attention to you, and I didna want that. The 'oors o' the evenin'
flitted awa' and by and by it cam' to half-past nine, and the sodger
cam' doon the stairs again and said: 'Sir Robert is awake noo and wants
to see the packman.'
"So I went up the stairs, and as I left the kitchen ane o' the troopers
laughingly cried after me:
"'If he wants to put "the boot" on ye, ye'd best offer him your
tree-leg. He's likely tae be that drunk he winna ken the differ.'
"The sodger that was his body-servant threw open the door o' his room
and said: 'The packman, sir,' and in I stepped as bold as ye like. He
was sittin' in a big chair wrapped in a lang flowered goon. His feet
rested on twa big cushions and were rolled up in bandages. Juist beside
the cushions stood a basin o' water; it was the same, nae doot, that the
wee drummer boy had been kept busy fillin'. Lag glowered at me as I
cam' through the door, and twisted roon' in his chair.
"'Good evening, Sir Robert,' says I. 'I hope you are feeling better.'
"His brow gathered in a knot, and he growled: 'Wha the devil said I had
been ill? I havena asked ye here to talk aboot mysel'. It's you I want
to put a few questions to.'
"'I am at yer service, sir,' I said. 'What can I dae for you?'
"'Well,' says he, 'I've had a message from Sir Thomas Dalzell. He tells
me that four of his troopers were set on by a gang of ruffians in New
Abbey Road twa or three days sin', and seriously mishandled; and he
minds that he saw you on the road at Loch End that very day. He
jalouses that after he saw you you took the road to New Abbey. What he
wants to ken is this: Did you see onybody on the road that afternoon who
might have been guilty o' this criminal attack upon the soldiers o' His
Majesty?'
"Weel, that was a straicht question, but it wasna to be replied to wi' a
straicht answer; so I thocht it wiser to evade the issue, an' I said:
'Sir, can you gi'e me ony further particlers? Hoo mony sodgers were
there? What was the number o' their assailants? Where did the attack
take place, and what happened to the sodgers?'
"That shook him off the scent, though, for a minute, I was feared that
he saw through me, for he said: 'Now, Hector, ye talk like a damned
hedge-lawyer. There were four soldiers involved. As far as Sir Thomas
can make out, the number of their assailants was six or eight, and the
attack took place on the road about a mile and a half from New Abbey.
After being knocked senseless, the soldiers were carried into a wood and
tied to a tree. They werena found till next day.'
"Now I knew where we stood. Dalzell and Lag had got the scent a' wrang.
It wasna for me to gi'e the scent richt. So it didna cost me ony
scruples o' conscience to make replies to the facts that he had laid
before me. 'Sir Robert,' says I, 'the case baffles me a' thegither. I
maun ha'e been very near the wood ye speak o' at the time this attack
was made upon the troopers, but I saw nae sodgers on the road, nor did I
come across ony six or eight men wha micht ha'e assailed them. As a
matter o' fact I met naebody between Loch End and New Abbey, except a
puir auld body gatherin' a wheen sticks.' And then an idea occurred to
me--for I knew that if Lag or Dalzell couldna lay their hands upon the
men wha had attacked the troopers, they would start harryin' every
hoose, where there was a likely young man, between Loch End and New
Abbey. That would only mean persecution for innocent folk; so, though I
was fain enough to save my ane skin and yours, I didna' want others to
be punished for oor deeds, and I threw oot a suggestion at which Lag
jumped. 'It's only a theory o' mine, Sir Robert,' I said, 'but it's
juist possible that this assault on the sodgers was made by the sailors
frae some smugglin' craft that micht be lyin' in the Solway ayont New
Abbey.'
"'Man, Hector,' he said, 'that's worth thinkin' o'. There was a smuggler
reported in the estuary a few days syne. I maun look into that.'
"And then the pain in his feet began to get bad, and he cursed horribly.
When he got his breath again, he looked at me and said:
"'And now, Hector, a word in your lug. You're supposed to be a guid
King's man, and I have no direct evidence that you are not; but it's a
queer thing that when you drop a hint to the King's representatives
aboot some hill-man's nest and the troopers gang to harry it, there are
nae eggs in it'; and he glowered at me savagely. 'Have a care,' he
growled, 'have a care!'
"I thocht it was time to change the subject, and lookin' doon frae his
face to his bandaged feet I said: 'I would coont it a high honour if ye
wad permit me to try some o' my magical salve on your feet. I can
assure ye, sir, it has powers o' a high order; it's used in the Court o'
His Majesty the King himsel'.' Wi' that I produced a wee pot o' it oot
o' my pocket. 'It will,' I said, 'produce instant relief and ensure for
ye a guid nicht's rest. May I ha'e the honour o' tryin' it, sir?'
"'Well,' says Lag, 'I'm ready to try anything. Nobody but mysel' kens
the torment I have been suffering. It's fair damnable.'
"Withoot anither word I dropped down on my knees beside him and took off
the cauld water bandages wi' as much gentleness as I could; and when
they were off and I saw his feet, I kent hoo he maun ha'e suffered.
They were the colour o' half-ripe plums and that swollen that if ye put
yer finger on them ye left a dint as though they had been clay. I said
to mysel', says I, 'Hector, here's a test for yer salve,' so I talked to
Lag cheerily o' the wonderfu' cures I had made afore, and a' the while,
as gently as I could, I was rubbin' his feet wi' it. When I had been
rubbin' for the better pairt o' half an 'oor, he said: 'Man, Hector,
ye're nae fule. Ye've gi'en me greater ease than I've had a' day. Did
ye say ye made this saw yoursel'?' I told him it was my ain discovery
and that nane but me could supply it, but if he would dae me the honour
o' acceptin' a pot or twa, he would mak' me a prood man. Then I
bandaged his feet and washed my hands.
"'That's fine,' he said. 'Now, Hector, one good turn deserves another,'
and taking up a wee bell that stood on a table beside him he rang it,
and his body-servant came back into the room. 'Bring a couple o'
bottles o' Malvoisie,' he ordered. 'And at the same time fetch that
soldier of Sir Thomas Dalzell's wha brought the message this morning.'
"'In a few minutes back came the servant wi' a couple o' bottles in his
hand and behind him a trooper wi' a bandage roond his heid. I
recognised him at aince. He was the fourth that we laid oot in the
wood. When I saw him I maun say I got an awfu' fricht; for if ye mind
he was the ane that had a chance o' seein' you and me. I thocht tae
masel'--Noo, Hector, ye're in a bonnie hole, but neither by act or word
did I let on that I was perturbed, and I waited for what should happen
next. Lag ordered his man to open ane o' the bottles. Then he poured
oot a glass for me and anither for himsel', and turnin' to Dalzell's
man, he said:
"'Can ye tell me if these ruffians that set on you were sailors? and how
many o' them were there a' thegither?'
"The man hesitated for a wee and then answered: 'I'm no clear, sir,
whether they were sailors or no'. Ye see, sir, I got an awfu' crack on
the heid, and ever since I've felt gey queer like. They may ha'e been
sailors; that I dinna ken, nor am I quite sure hoo mony there were. I
min' only o' seein' twa masel'; but I'm sure o' this, that nae twa
sailors nor twa onything else, short o' deevils, could ha'e laid oot
four sodgers o' the King's as we were laid oot. There maun ha'e been
aboot six o' them. There may ha'e been eight or ten, but I'm no sure
ava, sir.'
"'Well,' said Lag, angry-like, 'that's no muckle help. Could you
recognise one o' them if you were to see him again?'
"I looked at the sodger oot of the corner of my e'e. If I hadna had a
wooden leg my knees would ha'e knocked thegither, but I waited.
"'Yes, sir,' said the sodger, 'I'm sure o't. I could recognise baith o'
the men that attacked me.'
"Lag pointed straicht at me. 'Tak' a look here,' he said. 'Have you
ever seen this man before?'
"I looked straicht at Sir Robert and wondered if he was playin' wi' me
as a cat plays wi' a moose, and then I turned to the sodger so that he
could tak' a guid look at me; but a' the time I was considerin' what
micht be passin' in the crafty mind o' Lag, cauld and cruel behin' his
knotted brow. Did he ken the truth? The sodger looked at me frae heid
to foot. The licht in the room was dim, and by way o' showin' that I
feared naething, I said: 'By your leave, Sir Robert,' and I lifted ane
o' the lichted candles frae the table and held it in my haun' so that
the sodger could tak' a guid look at me. He scanned me carefully again
and shook his head, saying:
"'I ha'e never seen this man afore. The man I mind was clean shaved.'
"Wi' that I walked ower to the table and laid the candlestick doon
again.
"The sodger saluted and turned to go, but I spoke up: 'Sir Robert,' said
I, 'may I examine this puir fellow's heid? I micht by the application
o' my magical salve, with whose virtues you are already acquaint, gi'e
him some relief.'
"'Certainly, certainly,' said Lag, now in a good temper.
"So wi' that I took the bandage off the trooper's heid. Ma certie! what
a beauty I had put there wi' my ain guid stick. It was the size o' a
pigeon's egg, and when I felt it between my fingers I was prood o' my
handiwork. But I never let on. I examined it wi' care; then by way o'
raisin' a laugh oot o' Lag I said: 'This young man has to thank
Providence that he was born wi' a thick heid.' Saying which, I took a
little o' the salve and began to rub it on the lump. The fellow winced,
but in the presence o' Lag he was frichtened to mak ony resistance. I
put a guid dressin' on the swelling and bound it up wi' a kerchief. He
was wonderfu' gratefu', but at a sign frae Lag he went off and I was
left alane wi' Sir Robert. He signed to me to sit doon, and passed me a
glass o' the Malvoisie. As I took it he raised his glass and said, 'The
King, God save Him,' and I, mindin' the advice I had gi'en to you to be
a' things to a' men, followed his example and said, 'The King, God save
Him,' and under my breath I added to masel', 'God kens he needs it.'
Weel, I sat and cracked wi' Lag for maybe half an 'oor and tellt him
mair than ane guid story and had a he'rty laugh or twa oot o' him. Then
I pushed the glass away, saying: 'By your leave, Sir Robert, if ye're
dune wi' me, I'll be obliged for yer permission to return to my
lodgings, for I maun be off on the road the morn.'
"He raised nae objection, and said: 'You won't forget to let me have a
pot o' that saw.'
"'Certainly, Sir Robert,' I replied, 'you shall ha'e it the first thing
in the mornin': or, if it pleases you to send a trooper wi' me you can
ha'e a pot o't the nicht.'
"'That's better,' he said. 'And you'll tak' this bottle o' wine, and
whenever ye ha'e a wee drap o't, I hope you will think kindly o' Lag.
He's a man sorely miscalled in this country-side.'
"'Thank ye kindly, Sir Robert,' says I. 'I shall see that you are
supplied wi' my magical salve for the rest o' yer life. And if on yer
next visit to London ye should ha'e the chance o' droppin' a word into
the ear o' His Majesty, ye micht juist ask him quietly whether he has
used that pot I sent him a twalmonth sin'. I'm inclined to imagine,
between you and me, Sir Robert, that it never reached His Majesty's ain
hand. I think it was stopped on the wey by ane o' the Court ladies wha
used it to make hersel' beautiful.'
"He threw back his held and roared wi' laughter.
"'Man, Hector,' he said, 'ye're a caution. But mair than likely ye're
richt. I've been to the Court mysel', and God kens some o' the women
there would need a' the magical saws in the world to make them bonnie.
I'll juist put it to His Majesty, Hector, and ask him,' and he roared
wi' laughter again.
"He rang the bell, and his body-servant cam' in, and he gave orders that
ane o' the men was to accompany me to my lodgings to get a pot o' salve.
So I set oot, gled as you can weel guess, to be under the open sky aince
mair. The sodger wha accompanied me was a douce lad, and by way o'
reward for his convoy I gied him a wee bit o' Virginia weed to himsel',
forby four pots o' the salve to tak' to Sir Robert.
"Juist as I let him oot o' the door o' my lodging, the clock struck
twal, and the soond o' it brocht back to me the thocht that you wad be
at a sair loss to ken what had happened to me. I turned things ower in
my mind and it seemed to me that Dumfries is no' exactly a safe place
for us at the moment. So I decided that in an 'oor or twa, when a'
should be quiet, I would slip ower and waken you and tak' ye awa' oot o'
danger.
"So here we are. That's the true story o' a' that has happened since I
saw you last; and as we are weel oot o' the toon and there's naebody
aboot, I think we micht rest oorsels a wee and, juist by way o'
celebratin' oor escape oot o' the tiger's den, we micht sample the
Malvoisie. I've got Lag's bottle, and I aye cairry a corkscrew."
*CHAPTER XXXI*
*THE CAVE BY THE LINN*
We took turns at the bottle, and found the wine of excellent quality.
After a short rest we resumed our journey. The moon had set and from
some distant farmyard a cock crew lustily, and I knew that daybreak was
not far off.
The wine, or the exercise, or the knowledge that he had escaped from a
situation of grave danger, had an exhilarating effect upon the packman,
who was now in high spirits. I ventured, while congratulating him upon
his escape, to ask where we might be going, for I was at a loss to know.
Now and then I heard the sound of running water, and in the grey of dawn
I was able to catch a glimpse of a stream to our right, which I thought
must be the Nith.
"We're drawing near Auldgirth," he said. "Beyond that we'll come to
Closeburn, and no' lang after that we'll be snug hidden in a cave at
Crichope Linn."
Soon we came to a bridge, with three arches spanning the brown river.
Hector scrambled down through the bushes by the roadside and made his
way under the nearest arch, and I followed him. A little grassy bank
lay between the pier of the bridge and the water, and here we sat down.
The packman unstrapped his wooden leg, and, with some groaning, for the
process evidently caused him discomfort, removed his great shaggy beard.
"I'll bury my tree-leg here, for the time being, but the beard I'll tak'
wi' me in my pooch. That's sufficient disguise for me: as for you,
you'll be nane the waur o' a bit o' disguise as weel."
He took from his pack a pair of scissors, and set to work upon my beard
and whiskers. As he did so, doubt assailed me and I called to him to
stop. To be clean-shaven once again was to expose myself to more ready
recognition, if it should ever be my lot to encounter one of my former
companions among Lag's troopers.
"Ay, lad, ye're richt," said Hector. "I should ha'e thocht o' that
mysel'. But never mind, I've no' done muckle damage yet. Were you
clean-shaven when you were a trooper?"
"Yes," I answered.
"Weel," he said, "I'll do a bit o' fancy work on your face, and I'll
leave your upper lip alane and wi' some o' my magical salve you can
dress your moustachios to make you look like a Cavalier. Forby, I'll
leave you a wee tuft on your chin, like the King. I'll warrant neither
the folk that saw you in Dumfries wi' a fortnicht's growth on yer face,
nor the troopers that kent ye as a clean-shaven man, will be likely to
recognise you."
When he had finished his work he stood back and looked at me carefully,
poising his head upon one side, and as was his wont half closing his
left eye. He was evidently satisfied, for, with characteristic
self-complacency, he said:
"Man, Hector, ye're a lad o' mony pairts."
Out of his pack he produced a small looking-glass of burnished steel and
handed it to me. In the uncertain morning light the reflection of my
face was not very distinct, but enough to show that my disguise was
effective, for I hardly recognised myself.
"Come on," said Hector, swinging up his pack, and crossing the bridge we
continued our journey.
The country had the glamour of early summer upon it. Every bush was
crowned with a coronal of green: the fields were smiling with promise:
the hill-sides were dimpling with sunny laughter, and the river, which
now ran beside us, babbled cheerfully as it sped on its way to the sea.
After a few more miles we saw, in the distance, a long row of cottages
flanking our way. Hector suddenly quitted the road, and, hidden behind
a hedge, we made a long detour in order to avoid them.
"Yon," said he, "is the village o' Closeburn. The curate's a spy and a
tyrant. It behoves us no' to be seen."
Making use of all the cover we could, and continuing our way till
Closeburn was left behind, we came out upon a narrow and unfrequented
road overshadowed by beech and oak trees. The air thrilled with the
song of birds, and the spirit of the hour seemed to have descended upon
the packman, for as we trudged along he whistled merrily. By and by we
came to the edge of a wood. Just on its margin we crossed a rustic
bridge which spanned a little brown rivulet that trickled sinuously in
and out between its mossy banks. Following the line of the stream we
entered the wood, Hector leading the way. The ground was a great carpet
of luscious green, save where it was spangled over with beds of blue
speedwell. The foliage of the trees--beech, oak and mountain ash, pine
and fir--broke up the rays of sunlight and the air within the wood was
delightfully cool. Our path led steadily up from the bed of the stream
till it looked like an amber thread meandering through a gorge a hundred
feet beneath us. Here and there its course was checked by a quiet pool,
so still that one might think the stream had ceased to flow; and where
some branch of a bush or tree touched the surface of the water it was
garlanded with a ball of tawny froth from which little flakes broke away
and studded the surface of the pool like scattered silver coins.
We penetrated deep into the wood--the stream chattering far below
us--and at last Hector, half-turning, and saying earnestly "Tak' tent,"
began to clamber down the slope towards it. I followed, and in a few
moments we had reached the edge of the water. Leaping from stone to
stone, Hector led the way past a waterfall upon our left which, thin as
veil of gossamer and iridescent in the sunlight, fell from an
overhanging rock into the burn.
Just beyond us and to the right the stream issued from a defile. Above
us, on both sides, the sandstone rocks towered, and looking up from the
depths one could see the sky through the leafy screen of foliage that
overshadowed us. Carefully choosing every footstep, we continued up the
stream. The way, though difficult, seemed quite familiar to the
packman.
Suddenly the great sandstone walls which flanked the stream began to
close in upon us, rising sheer from the water edge. The stream thus
confined into straiter bounds became a broiling torrent. To make
progress we were compelled to bestride it, finding precarious foothold
in little niches on the opposing walls. After a few more difficult
steps the narrow defile widened out and we stood upon the edge of a
great broad cup which was being steadily filled by an inrush of water
through a gorge at its upper end similar to that along which we had
come. In shape the cup was almost circular and looked like a huge
misshapen bowl of earthenware. From its sides the sandstone cliffs rose
almost perpendicularly, but a few feet above the water was a ledge broad
enough to walk upon. It was a curious natural formation. The basin at
our feet was deep, so deep that I could not see the bottom. The water
leaped into it through the upper defile, churning its nearer edge into
yellow froth; but the turbulence of the leaping stream swooned into
quietness when it came under the spell of the still water that lay deep
and impassive in the heart of the pool. Half-way round its
circumference, poised on the ledge and heaped one upon another in
seeming disorder, stood a pile of boulders. Hector seized one of them
with both hands. He tugged at it vigorously and it moved, disclosing a
cleft in the wall of the precipice through which a man might crawl.
"We're here at last," said Hector. "Doon on your hands and knees, and
crawl in; there's naething to fear."
I did as he bade me, and, carefully feeling the way with my hands,
thrust head and neck and shoulders into the aperture. After the light
of the outer world the interior of the cave was impenetrably dark.
Steadying myself with my hands, I proceeded to drag my body after me and
was about to rise to my feet when suddenly something leaped upon me. A
pair of hot hands closed upon my throat from behind and a great weight
hurled itself upon my back. I tried to scream, but the lithe fingers
gripped my neck and stifled me. There was a clamour in my head as
though a thousand drums were rattling; lights danced before my eyes.
Again I tried to scream, but my tongue hung helpless out of my mouth and
I could hardly breathe. I struggled fiercely, but the hands that
gripped my throat did not relax and suddenly I seemed to be falling
through infinite space and then ceased to know anything. I remembered
nothing until, at last, I felt somebody chafing my hands. Then out of
the darkness I heard the voice of Hector say quite cheerfully:
"Ye'll do. Ye'll be a' richt in a minute or twa. Noo I maun ha'e a look
at the minister."
"What has happened?" I asked, but Hector did not reply, so I raised
myself and found him stooping over the body of another man lying not far
from me.
"Thank God," he said, "I ha'ena killed him. His skull is evidently as
soond as his doctrine, and that's sayin' a lot."
"Tell me what has happened?" I exclaimed. "Who is this man?"
"As far," said he, "as I can mak' oot by the licht o' these twa tallow
candles, he is the Rev. Mr. Corsane, the ousted minister o' Minniehive.
I canna exactly tell what happened afore I cam' into the cave, but juist
as your feet were disappearing into the hole, they began to dance in the
air, remindin' me o' the cantrips I ha'e seen a man perform when the
hangman had him in haun'. I was at a sair loss to ken what ye micht be
daein', and I was mair puzzled still when, just inside the cave, I heard
a terrible struggling. Hooever, as ye weel ken, I'm nae coward, so in I
crawled, wi' my auld frien' 'Trusty' in my kneive. Though it was awfu'
dark, I could mak' oot twa men strugglin'. Ane o' them was astride the
other and I judged that you were the nethermost. I shouted, the man that
had you by the throat let ye go and flung himsel' on me. I caught him a
dunt wi' the point o' my elbow juist ower his breist-bane. He reeled
back, but when he got his breath he rushed at me again. By this time my
e'en were better used to the darkness, so I up wi' 'Trusty' and gi'ed
him a clout on the side o' the heid, and here he lies. Then I lichted
the candles I had brocht wi' me, and found that he had gey near
throttled you deid. By the look o' him I jaloused that he was the Rev.
Mr. Corsane, and then the whole thing was plain to me. Maist likely he
has been hidin' in this cave--a cave weel kent by the Covenanters--so
when you cam' crawlin' in withoot word said or signal given, he maun
ha'e thocht it was ane o' the dragoons and like a brave man he made up
his mind to sell his life dearly. That's the story so far as I can mak'
it oot and I ha'e nae doot it's the true ane.
"But I wish ye would lay your hand ower his heart and tell me I haena
killed him, for I wouldna' like to ha'e the death o' sic a godly man on
my conscience."
I did as I was requested and I was able to reassure the packman that the
man's heart was beating regularly and strongly, although somewhat
slowly.
"Thank God," he said fervently. "I'll see what my salve will dae for
him," and he opened a pot of his ointment and proceeded to rub it gently
into the lump which his stick had raised upon the minister's temple.
The effect, however, was far from being immediate. The minister lay
with lips half parted and eyes half open, breathing heavily, without
signs of returning consciousness. Hector began to show signs of alarm.
"If," he said, "this was only a dragoon I wouldna worry: but this is a
minister, a different breed o' man a' thegither. A clout that would dae
nae mair than gie a dragoon a sair heid micht kill a minister. He maun
be in a bad way if my salve winna revive him."
"Give him time," I said, "and let us see what cold water will do."
Crawling out into the open, I leaned over the pool and, filling my
bonnet with water, returned to the cave and sprinkled the minister's
face copiously. I saw his eyelids flicker as the first cold drop
touched his forehead, and a few minutes later he moved one of his hands.
"He's recovering," I said, and taking off my coat I folded it and placed
it beneath his head. We waited in great anxiety, and by and by saw
other signs of returning vitality. The better part of an hour had
elapsed before the minister endeavoured to raise himself upon his elbow,
an effort which we gently resisted. Immediately afterwards, with eyes
staring up to the roof of the cave, he said:
"Where am I? What has happened?"