The decided though cruel measures which followed the defeat of
Culloden, whilst they were sufficient to extinguish the hopes of the
Highlanders who had so enthusiastically espoused the cause of Charles,
were ill calculated to subdue their warlike spirits. They were driven,
it is true, to seek shelter in those rocky and inaccessible fastnesses
which their highest glens afforded them; but there, amidst the wildest
and most solitary scenes of nature, they permitted their minds to
brood in bitter reflection over all their wrongs--over all those
tragedies which history itself has blushed to record--their wives
and children massacred amidst the midnight conflagration of their
humble dwellings, or perishing in their flight through the snows of
winter. But heroism such as theirs was not to be crushed even by such
calamities as these,--calamities which were calculated to have bowed
down less lofty and indomitable spirits to the very dust. With them
the effect was like that which would result from some puerile attempt
to curb and arrest the mountain cataract. They were divided, as its
stream might be, into smaller and less important bodies, and their
power was no longer so forcible as when they were united together in
one stream, but each individual portion seemed to gain a particular
character and consequence of its own by its separation from the main
body, where it had hitherto flowed undistinguished and unobserved.
It was thus that, lurking in little parties, in retreats only
known to themselves, among craggy ravines and pine-clad precipices,
they now resumed that minor and predatory warfare which they had
been wont to wage against the inhabitants of the more civilised
parts of Scotland,--I mean that which consisted in plundering those
richer districts of their cattle. Perhaps no inconsiderable degree
of political animosity may have mingled itself in many instances
with the other motives that prompted these marauding expeditions
in the later times of which I am speaking. But, be this as it may,
we must not look upon those who were engaged in them as we do upon
the wretched cow-stealers of the present day. That which is now
considered as one of the most despicable of crimes was then, in the
eyes of the mountaineer, esteemed as an honourable and chivalrous
profession. In his untamed imagination no one was looked upon with
so much admiration and envy as that individual who might be chosen
as the leader of a daring band to harry the low country of its live
stock; for these proud sons of the Gael had ever held the inhabitants
of the plains in the most sovereign contempt, and they regarded them
and their more favoured pastures in no other light than as so many
nurses and nurseries, destined by Heaven to rear the cattle which
they were born to consume. I can instance one well authenticated
example which displays this opinion in its true light. The Laird of
Grant, the great chieftain of the glen of Urquhart, having had his
cattle driven off by a party of Camerons, and having sent a strong
remonstrance to Cameron of Lochiel himself by a special ambassador,
had his herds immediately restored to him, with a most courteous
letter of apology, which, I believe, still exists, assuring him that
his stupid fellows had entirely mistaken his orders, which were, that
they should not begin to plunder until they had reached "Moray-land,
where every gentleman was entitled to take his prey."
It was soon after the middle of the last century that Mr. Russel,
a gentleman of Morayshire, who resided at Earlsmill, near Tarnaway
Castle, to the north of the Findhorn, and about ten miles from hence,
was alarmed one morning by the unpleasant intelligence, that a strong
body of Highlanders had come before daybreak and carried off the whole
of his cattle from this very farm of the Aitnoch, which he had at
that time taken as a hill-grazing. Mr. Russel was an extremely active
and intelligent man; and although he did not make all the warlike
preparations which your friend the Laird of Macfarlane did, yet he
was not deficient either in promptitude of decision or in readiness
of action. After putting a few questions to the scared and breathless
messenger, he lost not a moment in summoning and arming his servants;
and, instead of taking this way--towards the Aitnoch, he struck at once
diagonally across the country in a westerly direction, and marched with
great expedition, in order, if possible, to reach a part of the deep
glen of the Findhorn, some miles above Dulsie yonder, in such time as
to enable him to intercept the plunderers. You may trace with your eye
the dark shadow of the glen, which sinks deep and abruptly into the
bosom of those purple mountains which you see retreating behind each
other in misty perspective. That is the grand pass into the Western
Highlands, and Mr. Russel was well aware that if he did not succeed in
arresting his cattle before the robbers had made their way through it,
the boundless wastes to which it led would render all further search
after them quite hopeless. Having reached the course of the river,
Mr. Russel and his party made their way down the steep hill-side,
forded the stream to its southern bank, and, carefully examining the
ground to ascertain whether any fresh footprints were to be observed,
they took their stand, satisfied that they had been so far successful.
The spot chosen by Mr. Russel for his ambuscade was in the midst of
that most beautiful range of retired and tranquil scenery known by
the name of The Streems. There the hollow glen is so profound and so
narrow in many places, that one of those little clusters of cottages
which are now found here and there sprinkled in the pastoral bottom
has the name of Tchirfogrein, a Gaelic appellation implying that it
never sees the sun. There were then no houses near the place they
had selected, but the party lay concealed behind some huge fragments
of rock, shivered by the wedging ice of the previous winter from the
summit of a lofty crag that hung half across the narrow holm where
they had taken up their position. A little farther down the river the
passage was contracted, and there was no approach from that point but
by a rude and scrambling footpath irregularly worn along the steep face
of the mountain, and behind them the glen was equally confined. Both
extremities of the small amphitheatre thus enclosed were then, though
they are not now, shaded by dense thickets of birch, hazel, and holly,
whilst a few wild pines found a scanty subsistence for their roots on
the face of the crags in midway air, and were twisted and writhed by
lack of nutriment into the most fantastic and picturesque forms. The
stillness of an unusually calm and breathless air hung over this
romantic scene, and it was lighted by the now declining sun of a
serene summer day, so that half the narrow haugh was in broad and
deep shadow, that was strongly contrasted with the brilliant golden
light falling on the tufted tops of the trees of a wooded bank on
the opposite side of the river.
Mr. Russel and his small party had not long occupied their post
when, as they listened in the silence of the evening, they heard the
distant lowing of the cattle and the wild shouts of the reavers as
they came faint and prolonged up the hollow trough of the glen. The
sounds gradually drew nearer and nearer, and increased in volume as
they were swelled and re-echoed from the rocks on either side. At
length the crashing of the boughs announced the appearance of the
more advanced part of the drove; and the tired animals began to issue
slowly from among the tangled wood, or to rush violently forth as
the shouts of their drivers were more or less impetuous, or their
blows chanced to light upon them. As they appeared individually,
they gathered themselves into a group on the level open sward, where
they stood bellowing, as if quite unwilling to proceed any farther.
In rear of the last stragglers of the herd Mr. Russel now beheld,
bursting singly from different parts of the brake, a party of fourteen
Highlanders, all in the full costume of the mountains, and wearing
the well-known tartan of a western clan. All of them were armed with
the dirk, pistol, and claymore, and the greater number of them carried
antique fowling-pieces. Mr. Russel's party consisted of not more than
ten or eleven persons; but they were well armed, and they were people
upon whom he could depend. Exhorting them to be firm, therefore,
he drew them suddenly forth from their ambush, and ranged them up in
array upon the green turf. The robbers appeared to be confounded for a
moment, and uttered some uncouth exclamations of surprise; but a shrill
whistle from their leader made them quickly recover their presence of
mind, and they rushed forward in a body, and formed themselves in order
of battle in front of their spoil. Mr. Russel and his party stood their
ground with determination, whilst the leader of the enemy seemed to be
holding counsel with himself as to what he should do. He was a little
spare athletic man, with long red hair curling over his shoulders,
and with a pale and thin, but acute visage. After leaning upon his
gun for a time, and surveying the party opposed to him with the eye
of a hawk, he shouldered his piece and advanced slowly a few paces
in front of his men, until he considered himself to be sufficiently
within earshot, and, raising his voice,--
"Mr. Russel," cried he, in very correct English, though with a Highland
accent, "are you for peace or war? If for war, look to yourself. But
if you are for peace and treaty, order your men to stand fast, and
let you and me advance and meet each other half way."
"I will treat," replied Mr. Russel; "but can I trust to your keeping
faith?"
"Trust!" exclaimed the other in an offended tone, and with an imperious
air; "methinks you may well enough trust to the word and honour of
a gentleman."
"I am content," said Mr. Russel.
The respective parties were now ordered to stand their ground, and the
two leaders advanced about seventy or eighty paces each towards the
middle of the open space, with their loaded guns cocked and presented
at each other; and having abridged the distance that divided them to
some ten or twelve paces, they halted, and the negotiation commenced. A
certain sum was demanded for the restitution of the cattle. Mr. Russel
had not so much money about him; but he offered to give all he had
in his pocket, which amounted to a sum not a great deal short of
what the robber had asked. After some little conversation this was
accepted. The bargain was concluded, the money was paid, the guns
were uncocked and shouldered, and the two hitherto hostile parties
advanced to meet each other and to mingle together in perfect harmony.
"And now, Mr. Russel," said the leader of the band, "you must look
at your beasts, to see that none of them are wanting."
"They are all here but one small dun quey," said Mr. Russel, after
a minute examination of the herd.
"Ha!" cried the Highland leader, darting an angry glance of inquiry
around his men, "how is this? Ewan, I would speak with you."
A tall handsome dark man, whom he had thus addressed, then moved a
little way apart with him, and a conversation ensued between them
in Gaelic, the sound of which could only be heard, whilst ever and
anon the leader's eyes glanced towards one or other of his people;
and his voice and gestures indicated anything but satisfaction. At
last he returned towards the group.
"Mr. Russel," said he, "you may make your mind easy about the dun
quey. On the word of a gentleman, she shall be on your pasture before
daylight to-morrow morning."
The treaty being thus happily concluded, and the cattle taken
possession of by those who were wont to have the charge of them,
Mr. Russel and the Highland leader shook hands and parted, and each
took his own way, attended by his followers.
Clifford, interrupting the narrative, Ah! I have a shrewd suspicion
that the cheese-shaped lump of tallow you spoke of will turn out,
after all, to have been the produce of poor Dunny.
Author.--Have patience, and you shall hear.
We shall leave Mr. Russel and his people to return down the glen with
the rescued herd, that we may inquire a little into the motions of
the reaver and his men. They had no sooner threaded the mazes of the
brake which shut in the upper end of the dell that was the scene of
the strange negotiation I have described, than the leader halted them,
in order to hold a conference.
"Ewan," said he to him who seemed to act as his second in command,
"this is an awkward affair, and you have been much to blame. You had
charge of the rear, and not a beast should have strayed. But your
carelessness has brought my honour into pledge; and, by all that is
good, you must redeem it. I have said that the dun quey shall be on
Mr. Russel's pasture in the morning; and, dead or alive, she must be
there, for a gentleman's word must be kept."
"I own I have not been so sharp as I should have been," said Ewan,
with a mortified air; "but I think I have enough of cleverness in me
to enable me to promise you, on the word of a gentleman, that your
word shall be made good."
"See that it be so, then," said the leader somewhat sternly, as he
walked slowly away up the glen. "Take what strength you please with
you, but see that you save both my honour and your own."
His comrades crowded around Ewan, proffering him their friendly aid
to enable him to search for and recover the quey. But he courteously
declined all their kind offers; and tightening his plaid over his body
with the utmost composure, he sprang up the almost perpendicular face
of the southern mountain with the agility of a deer, and disappeared
over the brow of it, without permitting his breath to come much quicker
there than it had done whilst he was in talk with his companions in
the deep glen below.
Ewan wandered not over the moors and mosses which you see stretching
over the mountain far off yonder like one who was bewildered, or
like a hound at fault. Circumstances had arisen to his mind, which
had afforded him some clue to the search he had undertaken; and of
that clue he had at once laid hold, with a determined resolution to
unravel it as speedily as possible to the end. His course, therefore,
was taken at once; and it was a most direct one. You see that singular
opening in the country between us and Strathspey? Perhaps you may
remember that there is a narrow pass there, where a small lake fills
the bottom of the defile, and where the face of the mountain that
rises over it has all the appearance of having been shaven down by the
sword of some giant. The strange tradition of the country indeed is,
that it was done by the mighty Fingal, by way of trying the temper of
a claymore which he had not yet put to the proof. Well does the weapon
seem to have performed its office; and in honour of it the place has
ever since been called Beemachlai, or the cut of the sword. Ewan then
had no sooner breasted the mountain that hung over the Findhorn, than
he turned his face directly southward, and took his way in a straight
line for the pass; and despite of the ravines and burns, and peat-pots
and moss-hags, and all the other difficulties and obstructions that
lay in his road, and the darkness of the evening which settled down
upon that wild hill to make all these difficulties ten times greater
than they otherwise would have been, he, in a wonderfully short period
of time, found himself planted in the narrow path that ran between
the loch of Beemachlai, on the one hand, and the mountain that rises
from its western margin on the other.
But before taking up his post, the cautious Ewan stooped down, and
carefully passed his hand over the whole surface of a bare spot,
of some dozen or so of square yards in extent, which he knew must
necessarily have been crossed by every man or beast travelling that
way, to ascertain whether any fresh footprints had been made in the
soft black surface of the moss. His experience in such investigations
was so great as to enable him perfectly to satisfy himself that no
animal at least had recently trodden there; and with this assurance
he stationed himself in the very hollow of the pass, and, seated on
a bank, he turned his head towards the north, whence the path came
downwards along the base of the hill, and kept eager watch both with
eyes and ears. The moon was at this time but young, and the sky was
partially covered with thin fleecy clouds; so that when it did rise,
it gave but a scanty and uncertain light, though it was enough to
pourtray the bold profile of Fingal's hill on the calm bosom of the
lake, as well as to enable any one to distinguish a human figure at
some little distance.
Ewan had not remained long in this position, when he distinctly heard
the short sharp cry used by Highlanders for urging on a bullock. It
was occasionally repeated; and by and bye it was followed by the
faint sound of the footsteps of a beast and its driver, which grew
upon his ear. Ewan bent his head towards the ground, that he might
the better catch the figures of both against the sky; and ere they had
already come within fifty yards of him, he rubbed his hands together
with satisfaction to find that his judgment had not deceived him, and
starting up to his feet, he planted himself directly in the middle
of the path, so that his figure threw a broad shadow across it; and
leaning on his gun, he calmly waited the advance of him who came. He
was a tall--nay, almost a gigantic man, with an awkward shambling
gait; and he held the dun quey by a long halter with his left hand,
whilst he drove her on with a huge rough stick which he carried in
his right. He halted the moment that Ewan's dark figure appeared.
"What is it that stands there? Answer, in the name of God!" cried he
in Gaelic, and in a tone that manifested great alarm.
"Methinks a foul thief like you had little ado with any such name,
Gilliesh," replied Ewan resolutely. "What devil tempted you to steal
the dun quey from our herd?"
"What devil told you that I had stolen her?" demanded Gilliesh,
much relieved to find that he had to deal with nothing more than
mortal flesh.
"Did I not see thee lurking among the birches on the Doun of
Dulsie?" said Ewan; "and did I not know that thou couldst be there
for no good end; and when the quey was missed, did I not put that
and that together to help my guessing, and have I not guessed rightly?"
"What an you have?" replied Gilliesh; "'tis but a poor prize I have
gotten after all, and hardly worth your tramping so far for. You had
surely enough, without grudging me this bit dwining beast."
"Such base thievery cannot be suffered," said Ewan, "besides, I have
reasons of my own for what I do. Come away, then, and give me the
rope; and bless your stars that you escape, for this time at least,
being hanged by one. The beast must back with me, and you may take
your own way home to Dulnan side at your leisure, and thank your good
fortune that you get there in a whole skin."
"Well may you speak so bold indeed," said Gilliesh bitterly, "with
that big black gun in your hand, ready to bring me down in a moment
like a muir-cock off a hillock. But by the great oath, ye would crack
less crouse if ye stood there before me with nothing but your claymore
by your side."
"Ye lie, ye thieving vagabond," cried Ewan, "I'll stand at all times
before you or a better man with this good sword alone. See here,
my gun shall rest against this rock; and on the word and honour of
a gentleman, I'll never touch stock or lock of it till I shall have
chastised thee to thy heart's content, if thou wilt so have it."
"Be it so," said the crafty Gilliesh; "and I'll tether the quey to
this moss-fir stump here, and let her stand by to see the stour,
and to be the prize of him who may prove himself to be the better man."
It would have been a sight of some interest to have watched the
preparations for this very extraordinary single combat. On the part of
Ewan they consisted merely in his placing his gun against the rock with
great tranquillity and with great care, and then drawing his claymore
from its scabbard, and twisting the folds of his plaid tightly over his
left arm, ere he put himself into the proper position for action. As
for Gilliesh, he had no sooner tied the end of the quey's halter to the
moss-fir stump, than he drew a broadsword of a magnitude so tremendous,
as well corresponded with his almost Philistian height. The bare,
flat, mossy piece of ground already noticed was the arena on which
they were to contend; and if it was free from prints of any kind when
Ewan examined it a brief space before, it was now destined ere long
to have enow of them impressed upon it by the coming struggle. Aware
of the great advantage which Gilliesh had over him from his superior
height, and still more from the greater sweep of his arm and sword,
Ewan approached his adversary very cautiously at first. On the other
hand, numerous, and rash, and awkward, were the cuts and the thrusts
which Gilliesh attempted to make; but they were given with a force
and a fury that rendered it necessary for Ewan to use all the skill
of which he was master, to enable him to dodge and to parry them. Now
and then their blades came into fearful contact; and when they did so,
the shearing of them together produced a sheet of flame that gave a
temporary illumination to the deep shadow which a projecting bank threw
over that part of the lake immediately below. As their desperate play
went on, the clashing of the glowing steel struck terror into the timid
animal that had occasioned the fight; and the powerful efforts which
her fear impelled her to make having at last burst her tether from its
fastening, she fled away beyond hearing of the fray. Meanwhile, the
combat continued to rage, and as it went on the combatants gradually
shifted their ground until they had changed places. On the part of
Gilliesh this was not done without its intention; for no sooner did
he find himself within reach of Ewan's gun, than he seized it up, and
presented it without scruple at its owner, and without one shadow of
remorse drew the trigger. But the hammer fell harmless into the empty
pan. Ewan sprang upon him in a moment, and, ere he could recover the
use of his sword, he gave him one desperate cut across the temple
that brought him to the earth with his face bathed in blood.
"Villain!" cried Ewan, as he stood over his prostrate foe with the
point of his sword at his throat. "Traitor that thou art, wouldst
thou have been a murderer as well as a thief? Had not a stray stag
crossed me at a distance as I came over the hill, and tempted me to
take an idle chance shot in the twilight, when my haste would not
allow me to load again, I should have been at this moment stretched
out a corpse by thy treachery."
"Spare my life!" cried the wretch piteously.
"Spare thy life!" replied Ewan contemptuously, as he quietly picked up
his gun, and proceeded to load it; "I have no mind that thy worthless
and cowardly life should stain this good sword of mine with dishonour,
nor do I choose that it should be the means of cheating the gallows of
what so justly belongs to it. Gather thyself up, then, as thou mayest,
and take thy way to Dulnan side; for, by all that is good, if thou dost
show thine ugly visage again to me, like a grim ghost on the moor,
I'll not miss thy big body as I did that of the stray stag, but I'll
open a door in it wide enough to allow thy rascally soul to issue forth
and to join its kindred malignant spirits of the swamp and the fen."
With these words Ewan threw his gun over his shoulder, and set out
in search of the stray heifer. It was some time before he found her,
and a still longer time after he had found her before he caught her,
and after he had caught her it was but the commencement of a most
toilsome night with her, ere he could compel her, tired as she was,
to travel through bog and mire to the place of her destination. But be
this as it may, Ewan saw that the reaver's word was made good,--next
morning the dun quey was seen grazing with the rest of the herd on
the farm of the Aitnoch. Nobody could tell how she came there; but
the eagerness with which she plucked at the pasture, and her jaded
and draggled appearance, afforded sufficient evidence of the length
and nature of the night journey she had been compelled to perform.
It was not very long after this that Mr. Russel happened accidentally
to have ridden up to his farm here one morning, and, as he was
engaged in moving about looking at his stock, his attention was
attracted by a long drove of cattle, which he observed straggling
up yonder opposite bank of the Dorback branch of the river Divie,
to the eastward there, evidently with the intention of crossing at a
ford a little way above. At first sight there appeared to be little
remarkable in this, for he well knew that to be a common track,
travelled by all whose route lay through this country, stretching
up the south side of the Findhorn. But the drovers and their herd
had no sooner passed the Dorback, and gained its western bank, and
begun to advance in a direction pointing towards the course of the
Findhorn, than Mr. Russel recognised the same Highland party and
the same bold leader from whom he had so recently recovered his own
cattle. Some of the men who were about him were led, from certain
circumstances, to know that the drove of beasts which they now saw
had been carried off from Gordonston, the seat of Sir Robert Gordon,
about thirty miles distant in the Laigh of Moray. Mr. Russel was in
habits of friendship with Sir Robert, and he quickly came to the
resolution that he should allow no such hostile and predatory act
to be done to him if he could help it, and above all that he should
not facilitate it by permitting a passage for the robbers and their
booty through his territory. He was here not only in the midst of
his own people, but he was, moreover, in the very centre of Lord
Moray's estate of Brae-Moray, of which he had the entire management,
and accordingly he resolved to avail himself of these circumstances,
and he determined immediately to arrest them. With this intention he
hastily collected all the dependants who were within his reach, and,
before the robbers came up with their booty, he found himself at the
head of double their number of well-armed men.
When the party arrived within hearing, Mr. Russel hailed the leader,
and at once plainly told him that he could not stand by and suffer
the cattle of his friend Sir Robert Gordon to be thus harried,
far less could he tamely permit them to be thus driven through his
farm. He therefore called upon the robber to halt, assuring him that
if he offered to advance with his party, or to persist in driving the
cattle one step farther, it should be at his own peril, and he must
take the consequences; for that nothing but force should compel him
to give them way.
"Mr. Russel!" cried the leader, stepping before the rest with a
haughty air, "this is not what I expected from you after what has
already passed between us. You stopped and recovered your own beasts,
and nobody could blame you; but, sir, it is not like a gentleman to
offer to hinder me from taking cattle from anybody else."
"My principles are very different," said Mr. Russel, with great
coolness.
"I tell you again," cried the little man, "that you will be acting
unjustly if you persevere, and that you have no right to do so."
"I am determined to persevere notwithstanding," said Mr. Russel,
with great strength of emphasis and firmness of expression.
"Then, sir, I must caution you that you had better take care what
you do," said the Highlander.
"I am prepared for all consequences," said Mr. Russel.
"Well, well, sir," said the Highlander frowning, "we cannot help
it; you are in your own kingdom here, and you must have your own
way; but, I bid you take heed--you'll rue this yet,--look well to
yourself." So saying, he called to his followers in Gaelic, who,
with much apparent dissatisfaction, abandoned the cattle, and the
whole party took the road to the hills, muttering dark threats and
half-smothered imprecations against Mr. Russel.
These denunciations were little heeded, and were probably soon
forgotten by him against whom they were uttered, or if they were
remembered at all it was only to produce greater vigilance on the
part of those who had the charge of his stock. But it so happened
that, during the course of the ensuing winter, some express business,
connected with his charge of Lord Moray's affairs, carried Mr. Russel
to Edinburgh. When he was on his return homewards, he arrived late one
stormy and tempestuous night at the solitary inn of Dalnacaerdoch,
situated, as everybody knows, at the southern extremity of that
part of the great Highland road leading through the savage pass of
Drumouachter. Seeing that it was quite hopeless to think of prosecuting
his journey that night in such weather, he took a hasty supper and
went to bed, with the resolution of rising as early next day as the
lack of light at that season would permit.
He was accordingly up in the morning, and in the saddle before he
could well see his horse's ears, and he set out through the snow for
the inn of Dalwhinnie, situated at the northern end of the pass,
attended only by a single servant. He had not proceeded far into
the wild and savage part of that solitary scene, where high poles,
painted black, are erected along the edge of the road to serve as
beacons during winter, to prevent travellers from deviating from
the road and being engulphed in the snow-wreaths, when by the light
of the dawn, he descried a man, at some two or three hundred yards'
distance, who came riding towards him. As he came onwards, Mr. Russel
had time to remark that he exhibited a thin spare figure which was
enveloped in a long dark brown cloak or greatcoat. He rode one of the
loose made garrons of the country, of a dirty mouse colour, having
no saddle, and no other bridle than a halter made of small birchen
twigs, twisted into a sort of rope, called by the common people a
woodie. In spite of himself, the recollection of the Highland reaver
and his angry threats darted across Mr. Russel's mind; and he was
somewhat alarmed at first, when he observed that he who approached
carried in his hand, poised by the middle, a very long fowling-piece,
of that ancient character and description which gave our ancestors
excellent hope of killing a wild duck sitting in the water half-way
across a lake of half a mile broad. Mr. Russel instinctively pulled
out his pistols and examined their locks, and he made his servant do
the same by his; but the inequality of such weapons, compared with
that which I have this moment described, was only thereby rendered
the more woefully apparent to both of them. Mr. Russel rode slowly
but resolutely on however, with his eyes intently watching every
motion of him who came, and who was now drawing nearer and nearer
to them. The stranger himself seemed to advance cautiously; but no
sooner had he come close enough to enable him to recognise a human
countenance, than he pushed up his shying steed by the application
of ardent and repeated kicks; and, when he had at length succeeded
in compelling him forward, to Mr. Russel's no inconsiderable relief,
he recognised in him--the landlord of the inn of Dalwhinnie!
"Keep us a', I'm glad I ha'e forgathered wi' ye in time,
Mr. Russel!" he exclaimed in a south country tone and dialect, and
without waiting for the ordinary preliminary salutations.
"Why, what's the matter?" demanded Mr. Russel.
"Matter!" replied the man; "a matter o' murder, gif I'm no far
mistane."
"Mercy on me! Who has been murdered?" cried Mr. Russel.
"I didna say that ony body was murdered," answered the man; "but,
an ye persevere on your road through the pass, I'm thinkin' that
somebody will be murdered."
"What makes you fancy so?" asked Mr. Russel.
"Were ye no to hae been at my hoose last night?" demanded the
Dalwhinnie landlord.
"I did so intend," said Mr. Russel; "but the road turned out to be
so much heavier than I had anticipated, that all I could do was to
reach Dalnacaerdoch, and that at a late hour."
"It was the yespecial providence o' Heevin that you didna get forrit,"
said the landlord, throwing up his eyes as if in thanksgiving,
"for, if you had, you would have been assuredly a cauld corp at this
precious moment."
"A corpse!" exclaimed Mr. Russel, "what has put that into your head?"
"Troth, as sure as ye are noo sittin' on your horse," replied the
landlord, "ye wad hae been murdered, though you had had mair lives
nor a cat."
"Explain yourself, I entreat you!" said Mr. Russel.
"It's an awfu' story," said the landlord, shuddering at the mere
recollection of it. "It was at the dead hour o' the night, ye see,
whan we war a' sound sleepin' in our beds, we war a' alarumed wi'
a sudden noise and rissellin' in the yard, an' afore we kent whar we
wuz, the hoose was filled wi' better nor twa dizzen o' great muckle
armed hillan'men, wi' blackit faces. Aweel! they lighted great big
lunts o' moss-fir at the kitchen fire, and cam' straught to my bedside,
brandishin' their pistols and durks, and lookin' as if they wad eat me
up.--'Whar's Mr. Russel sleepin'?' cries they.--'Gentlemen,' says I,
'as sure as death, Mr. Russel's no in this hoose.'--'We ken better,'
says they, 'we ken he was to be here this night.'--'Some mistak,
gentlemen,' says I, 'I'm dootin' that ye maun hae made some mistak,
for Mr. Russel's not only no here, but, an' ye'll believe me, troth I
didna even expeck him.'--A' this only made them waur. They threatent
and swoore at me like very rampawgin deevils, and then they begud
to search ilka hole and bore and cranny and corner in the hoose; an'
no contented wi' the hoose, they rummaged a' the oothooses, lookin'
even into places whaur it was just simply impossible that a very cat
could ha'e concealed hersel', an' forcin' me alang wi' them a' the
time, half naked, an' near hale dead wi' fear. And syne, whan they
could find neither you nor your horses, preserve us a' what a furious
hillant yell they did set up!--they war just a'thegither mad wi' rage
and disappointment; an' some o' them war for burnin' the very hoose,
that they might mak' sure that ye warna lurkin' somewhere aboot it
after a'. At length, a stiff, stern wee body, wha seemed to be their
captain, seelenced them in a moment; and having spoken to them for some
time in Gaelic, their violence was moderated, or rather it seemed to be
converted into downright hunger and drouth, for they begud to look for
bread and cheese, and ither eatables, and whisky, for themsel's. Weel
I wot, I gied them what they wanted wi' gude heart and wull, houpin'
to get the sooner quite o' them; and little payment, I trow, did I
expeck for my cheer. But what think ye, sir? As I'm a sinner, they
honestly paid me every farden o' their shot afore they ga'ed awa."
"Have you any notion as to whither they went after they left your
house?" demanded Mr. Russel.
"Some o' our herds war sayin' that their tracks i' the snaw lay
towards Loch Ericht," replied the landlord; "and gif so be the case,
I'se warrant that they have darned themsel's in some o' the queer
hidy-holes aboot the craigs there awa'. And, I'll be bailed, they'll
be ready to come back again or e'er ye ken whaur ye are, to murder
you clean oot o' hand; for surely they maun contrive somehoo or ither
to ha'e gude information."
"It is certainly most strange how they could have known so well what
my plans were," said Mr. Russel.
"Troth, sir, they're just deevils incarnate," continued the landlord;
"but ye maun on no account think o' gaein' on, Mr. Russel, for, gif
ye do, ye gang to certain death. Gae ye yere ways back to Blair or
Dunkeld, for I'm dootin' ye'll no be safe nae gate else, and I'll
send ower into Morayshire for some o' your ain fouk, weel accoutred
and furnished, to convoy ye safe hame."
Mr. Russel was no coward, but he well knew the nature of the
Highlanders he had to deal with. And what could the pistols of two
men do against two dozen of well-armed assassins, springing on them
at unawares by the way, or attacking them in their beds? After some
little consideration, therefore, he deemed it most prudent to take the
landlord's advice; and, accordingly, after he had thanked the honest
fellow for the zeal he had manifested for his safety, and after the
landlord had looked suspiciously around him and scanned the faces
of the hills to their very tops with strong signs of apprehension,
earnestly praying to God that their interview might not have been
overlooked and watched by any of the robbers or their spies, they
parted; and Mr. Russel and his servant retraced their steps at a good
round pace.
After nearly a week's delay at Dunkeld, Mr. Russel was enabled
to renew his journey at the head of a well-armed party of between
thirty and forty of his own people, who came to escort him. They
travelled along with great caution, but they did not perceive the
smallest show of hostility till they got into the middle of the
Pass of Drumouachter. Then, indeed, they observed that they were
reconnoitred from the rough face of one of the hills overhanging the
road, by a body of more than twenty armed mountaineers. They seemed
to have issued from the recesses of one of those Corries, or ravines,
which there yawn over the valley like gashes on the lofty brow of a
warrior; and after some minutes apparently spent in consultation,
they began to move along the steep acclivity in a line parallel
to the road which Mr. Russel pursued. Their dark tartans waved in
the wind, and their figures were boldly relieved against the glazed
and brilliant surface of the snow they trod on. A certain degree of
hesitation seemed to mark all their movements, which appeared to have
a manifest reference to those of the party below. Mr. Russel marched
on with a steady and resolute pace, his men keeping a sharp lookout
in all directions, and being perfectly prepared to resist any sudden
attack. But the mountaineers, being conscious of an inferiority
of strength which rendered any open attempt on their part quite
hopeless, did not venture to assault so large and so well armed
a band. After skirting along the hill-sides for five or six miles,
they seemed gradually to slacken their pace, till the whole body came
to a halt on a prominent point of the mountain, where they remained,
following Mr. Russel and his people with their eyes, and probably with
their curses also, so long as they remained within sight. Mr. Russel
thought it prudent to halt but for a short time at Dalwhinnie; and
well was it for him that he did not tarry there all that night, for
the house was again surrounded and searched by an overwhelming force,
whilst Mr. Russel was urging his way homewards with an expedition
that enabled him to reach his residence in perfect safety.
Whether a natural or accidental death, or some other cause, put an
end to any further attempts on the part of the vindictive mountaineer,
I know not; but certain it is, that Mr. Russel was never more troubled
either by him or by his people.