Kidnapped : being memoirs of the adventures of David Balfour in the year 1751 ...

({5zz-%'U-%

'/^^3

KIDNAPPED :

MEMOIRS OF THE ADVENT UllES OF DAVID BALED UH
IN THE YEAR 1751.

BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

AN INLAND VOYAGE.

EDINBURGH.

TRAVELS WITH A DONKEY.

VIRGINintJS PUERISQUE.

FAMILIAR STUDIES OF MEN AND BOOKS.

NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS.

TREASURE ISLAND,

THE SILVERADO SQUATTERS.

A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES.

PRINCE OTTO.

STRANGE CASE OF DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE.

I WITH MRS. STEVENSON.)
MORE NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS : The Dynamitek.

\7^

CQ

c\

f

■'/.

r^

"^v-^

\\

.r-X

r

^

^"■v,i^<^^'

Toiosa\

mlochalme,^

'J'-'^

ry\

^

k

KIDISTAPPED:

BEING

illcmoirs of tijc vliiDcnturcs of Dacib Calfour

IN THE YEAR 1751:

IIow he teas Kidnapped and Cast away; his Stifferings in a Desert
Isle ; his Journey in the Wild Highlands ; his acquaintance vith Alan
Breck Stewart and other notorious Highland Jacobites; with all that
he Suffered at the hands of his Uncle, Ebenezkr Balfour of Suaws,
falsely so-called :

^mtittcn fig jtt^imsclf.

AND NOW SET FOKTH BT

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

NEW YORK:
CHAELES SCRIBNEE'S SONS.

1886.

[All rights reserved.]

Press of J. J. Little & Co.
Astor Place, New York.

DEDICATION.

My deae Chakles Baxter,

If you ever read tliis tale, yoii will likely ask yourself
more questious than I should care to answer : as, for
instance, how the Appin murder has come to fall in the
year 1751, how the Torran rocks have crept so near
to Earraid, or wliy the printed trial is silent as to all
that touches David Balfour. These are nnts beyond
my ability to break. But if you tried me on the point
of Alan's guilt or innocence, I think I could defend the
reading of the text. To this day, you will find tlie tra-
dition of Appin clear in Alan's favour. If you inquire,
you may even hear that the descendants of '" the other
man" who fired the shot are in the country to this day.
Bat that other man's name, inquire as you please, you
shall not hear ; for the Highlander values a secret for
itself and for the congenial exercise of keeping it. I
might go on for long to justify one point and own
another indefensible ; it is more honest to confess at
once how little I am touched by the desire of accuracy.

Vi DEDICATION.

Tills is no furniture for the scholar's library, but a book
for the winter evening school-room when the tasks are
over and the hour for bed draws near ; and honest Alan,
who was a grim old fire-eater in his day, has in this new
avatar no more desperate purpose than to steal some
young gentleman's attention from his Ovid, carry him
awhile into the Highlands and the last century, and
pack him to bed with some engaging images to mingle
with his dreams.

As for you, my dear Charles, I do not even ask you
to like the tale. But perhaps when he is older, your son
will ; he may then be pleased to find his father's name
on the fly-leaf ; and in the meanwhile it pleases me to
set it there, in memory of many days that were happy
and some (now perhaps as pleasant to remember) that
were sad. If it is strange for me to look back from a
distance both in time and space on these bygone adven-
tures of our youth, it must be stranger for you who
tread the same streets — who may to-morrow open the
door of the old Speculative, where we begin to rank with
Scott and Robert Emmet and the beloved and inglorious
Maclean — or may pass the corner of the close where that
great society, the L. J. R., held its meetings and drank
its beer, sitting in the seats of Burns and his compan-
ions. I think I see you, moving there by plain day-

DEDICATION", Vli

light, beholding with your natural eyes those places that
have now become for your companion a part of the
scenery of dreams. How, in the intervals of present
business, the past must eclio in your memory ! Let it
not echo often Avithout some kind thoughts of your
friend.

R. L. 8.
Skerryvore,

Bournemouth.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

CHAPTER I.

I SET OFF ON MY JoURNEY TO THE HOUSE OF SUAWS 1

CHAPTER n.
I COME TO MY Journey's End 8

CHAPTER III.
I MAKE Acquaintance with my Uncle 10

CHAPTER IV.

I RUN A GREAT DANGER IN THE HOUSE OF SHAWS 27

CHAPTER V.

I GO TO THE Queen's Ferry oD

CHAPTER VI.

What befell at the Queen's Ferry 49

CHAPTER VII.
I GO TO Sea in the Brig "Covenant" of Dysart 57

CHAPTER VIII.

The Hound- House G8

CHAPTER IX.
The Man with the Belt of Gold 76

X CONTENTS.

PAGE

CHAPTER X.
The Siege of the Kound House 90

CHAPTER XI.
The Captain knuckles under 100

CHAPTER XII.

I HEAR OF THE RED FOX 107

CHAPTER XIII.
The Loss of the Brig 120

CHAPTER XIV.

The Islet 129

CHAPTER XV.

The Lad with the Silver Button : Through the Isle
OF Mull 142

CHAPTER XVI
The Lad with the Silver Button : Across Morven.. 154

CHAPTER XVn.
The Death of the Red Fox 165

CHAPTER XVIII.
I Talk with Alan in the Wood op Lettermore 174

CHAPTER XIX.

The House op Fear 18G

CHAPTER XX.
The Flight in the Heather : The Rocks 196

CHAPTER XXI.
The Flight in the Heather : The Heugh of Corrtna-
kiegh 209

CONTENTS. XI

PAGE

CHAPTER XXII.

The Flight in the Heather : The Mtjik 220

CHAPTER XXIII.

Cluny's Cage 231

CHAPTER XXIV.

The Flight in the Heather : The Quarrel 244

CHAPTER XXV.
In Balquidder 259

CHAPTER XXVI.
We pass the Forth 270

CHAPTER XXVII.
I COME TO Mr. Rankeillor 266

CHAPTER XXVIII.

I go in Quest of my Fortune 2JJ8

CHAPTER XXIX.

I COME INTO MY KINGDOM 309

CHAPTER XXX.
Good-bye ! 319

KIDNAPPED:

MEMOIRS OF THE ADVENTURES OF DAVID
BALFOUR m THE YEAR 1751.

CHAPTER I.

I SET OFF UPON MY JOUKNEY TO THE HOUSE OF SHAWS.

I WILL begin the stoiy of my adventures with a cer-
tain morning early in the month of June, the year of
grace 1751, when I took the key for the last time out of
the door of my father's house. The sun began to shine
upon the summit of the hills as I went down the road ;
and by the time I had come as far as the manse, the
blackbirds were whistling in the garden lilacs, and the
mist that hung around the valley in the time of the
dawn was beginning to arise and die away.

Mr. Campbell, the minister of Esseudean, was wait-
ing for me by the garden gate, good man ! He asked
me if I had breakfasted : and hearinsc that I lacked for

2 KIDNAPPED.

nothing, he took my hand in both of his, and clapped it
kindly under his arm.

''Well, Davie lad," said he, "I will go with you as
far as the ford, to set you on the way."

And we began to walk forward in silence.

" Are ye sorry to leave Essendean ?" said he, after a
while.

" Why, sir," said I, " if I knew where I was going,
or what was likely to become of me, I would tell you
candidly. Essendean is a good place indeed, and I have
been very happy there ; but then I have never been any-
where else. My father and mother, since they are both
dead, I shall be no nearer to in Essendean than in the
Kingdom of Hungary ; and to speak truth, if I thought
I had a chance to better myself where I was going, I
would go with a good will."

"Ay?" said Mr. Campbell. "Very well, Davie.
Then it behoves me to tell your fortune ; or so far as I
may. When your mother was gone, and your father
(the worthy, Christian man) began to sicken for his end,
he gave me in charge a certain letter, which he said was
your inheritance. ' So soon,' says he, ' as I am gone,
and the house is redd up and the gear disposed of ' (all
which, Davie, hath been done) ' give my boy this
letter into his hand, and start him off to the house of
Shaws, not far from Cramond. That is the place I came
from,' he said, 'and it's where it befits that my boy
should return. He is a steady lad,' your father said,

KIDNAPPED. 3

' aud a canny goer ; and I doubt not he will come safe,
and be well liked where he goes.' "

"The house of Shaws ! " I cried. "What had my
poor father to do with the house of Shaws ? "

" Nay," said Mr. Campbell, " who can tell that for
a surety ? But the name of that family, Davie boy, is
the name you bear — Balfours of Shaws : an ancient,
honest, reputable house, peradventure in these latter
days decayed. Your father, too, was a man of learning
as befitted his position ; no man more plausibly con-
ducted school ; nor had he the manner or the speech of
a common dominie ; but (as ye will yourself remember)
I took aye a pleasure to have him to the manse to meet
the gentry ; and those of my own house, Campbell of
Kilrennet, Campbell of Dunswire, Campbell of Minch,
and others, all well-kenned gentlemen, had pleasure in
his society. Lastly, to put all the elements of this
affair before you, here is the testamentary letter itself,
superscrived by the own hand of our departed brother."

He gave me the letter, which was addressed in these
words : "To the hands of Ebenezer Balfour, Esquire, of
Shaws, in his house of ShaAVS, these will be delivered
by my son, David Balfour." My heart was beating
hard at this great prospect now suddenly opening before
a lad of sixteen years of age, the son of a poor country
dominie in the Forest of Ettrick.

"Mr. Campbell," I stammered, "and if you were in
my shoes, would you go ? "

4 KIDNAPPED.

"Of a surety," said the minister, "that would I,
and without pause. A pretty lad like you should get to
Cramond (which- is near in by Edinburgh) in two days
of walk. If the worst came to the worst, and your
high relations (as I cannot but suppose them to be some-
what of your blood) should put you to the door, ye can
but walk the two days back again and risp at the manse
door. But I would rather hope that ye shall be well
received, as your poor father forecast for you, and for
anything that I ken, come to be a great man in time.
And here, Davie laddie," he resumed, " it lies near upon
my conscience to improve this ])arting, and set you on
the right guard against the dangers of the world."

Here he east about for a comfortable seat, lighted
on a big boulder under a birch by the trackside, sate
down upon it with a very long, serious upper lip, and
the sun now shining in upon us between two peaks, put
his pocket-handkerchief over his cocked hat to shelter
him. There, then, with uplifted forefinger, he first put
me on my guard against a considerable number of
heresies, to which I had no temptation, and urged upon
me to be instant in my prayers and reading of the
Bible. That done, he drew a picture of the great house
that I was bound to, and how I should conduct myself
with its inhabitants.

" Be soople, Davie, in things immaterial," said he,
" Bear ye this in mind, that, though gentle born, ye
have had a country rearing. Dinnae shame us, Davie,

KIDNAPPED. 5

dinnae shame us ! In yon great, muckle house, with
all these domestics, upper and under, show yourself as
nice, as circumspect, as quick at the conception, and as
slow of speech as any. As for the laird — remember he's
the laird ; I say no more : honour to whom honour. It's
a pleasure to obey a laird ; or should be, to the young."

"Well, sir," said I, "it may be; and I'll promise
you I'll try to make it so."

"Why, very well said," replied Mr. Campbell,
heartily. "And now to come to the material, or (to
make a quibble) to the immaterial. I have here a little
packet which contains four things." He tugged it, as
he spoke, and with some difficulty, from the skirt
pocket of his coat. "Of these four things, the first is
your legal due : tlie little pickle money for your father's
books and plenishing, which I have bought (as I have
explained from the first) in the design of re-selling at a
profit to the incoming dominie. The other three are
gifties that Mrs. Campbell and myself would be blithe
of your acceptance. The first, which is round, will
likely please ye best at the first off-go ; but, 0 Davie
laddie, it's but a drop of water in the sea ; it'll help you
but a step, and vanish like the morning. The second,
which is flat and square and written upon, will stand by
you through life, like a good staff for the road, and a
good pillow to your head in sickness. And as for the
last, Avhich is cubical, that'll see you, it's my prayerful
wish, into a better land."

6 KIDNAPPED.

With that he got upon his feet, took off his hat, and
prayed a little while aloud, and in affecting terms, for a
young man setting out into the world ; then suddenly
took me in his arms and embraced me very hard ; then
held me at arm's-length, looking at me with his face all
working with sorrow ; and then whipped about, and
crying good-bye to me, set off backward by the way
that we had come at a sort of jogging run. It might
have been laughable to another ; but I was in no mind
to laugh. I watched him as long as he was in sight ;
and he never stopped hurrying, nor once looked back.
Then it came in upon my mind that this was all his
sorrow at my departure ; and my conscience smote me
hard and fast, because I, for my part, was overjoyed to
get away out of that quiet country-side, and go to a
great, busy house, among rich and respected gentlefolk
of my own name and blood.

''Davie, Davie," I thought, ''was ever seen such black
ingratitude ? Can you forget old favours and old
friends at the mere whistle of a name ? Fy, fy ; think
shame ! "

And I sat down on the boulder the good man had just
left, and opened the parcel to see the nature of my gifts.
That which he had called cubical, I had never had much
doubt of ; sure enough it was a little Bible, to carry in a
plaid-neuk. That which he had called round, I found to
be a shilling piece ; and the third, which was to help me
so wonderfully both in health and sickness all the days

KIDNAPPED. 7

of my life, was a little piece of coarse yellow paper,
written upon thus in red ink :

" To Make Lilly op the Valley Water.— Take the flowers
of lilly of the valley and distil them in sack, and drink a spoone-
ful or two as there is occasion. It restores speech to those that
have the dumb palsey. It is good against the Gout; it comforts
the heart and strengthens the memory ; and the flowei-s, put into
a Glasse, close stopt, and set into ane hill of ants for a month,
then take it out, and you will find a Liquor which comes from the
flowers, which keep in a vial ; it is good, ill or well, and whether
man or woman."

And then, in the minister's own hand, was added :

"Likewise for sprains, rub it in; and for the cholic, a great
spooneful in the hour."

To be sure, I laughed over this ; but it was rather
tremulous laughter ; and I was glad to get my bundle on
my staff's end and set out over the ford and up the hill
upon the further side ; till, just as I came on the green
drove-road running wide through the heather, I took
my last look of Kirk Essendean, the trees about the
manse, and the big rowans in the kirkyard where my
father and my motlier lay.

CHAPTER II.

I COME TO MY journey's END.

On the forenoon of the second day, coming to the top
of a hill, I saw all the country fall away before me down
to the sea ; and in the midst of this descent, on a long
ridge, the city of Edinburgh smoking like a kiln. There
was a flag upon the castle, and ships moving or lying
anchored in the firth ; both of which, for as far away as
they were, I could distinguish clearly ; and both brought
my country heart into my mouth.

Presently after, I came by a house where a shepherd
lived, and got a rough direction for the neighbourhood
of Cramond ; and so, from one to another, worked my
way to the westward of the capital by Colinton, till I
came out upon the Glasgow road. And there, to my
great pleasure and wonder, I beheld a regiment march-
ing to the fifes, every foot in time ; an old red-faced
general on a grey horse at the one end, and at the other
the company of Grenadiers, with their Pope's-hats. The
pride of life seemed to mount into my brain at the
sight of the redcoats and the hearing of that merry
music.

A little farther on, and I was told I was in Cramond

KIDNAPPED. 9

parisl], and began to substitute in my inquiries the
name of the house of Shaws. It was a word that seemed
to surprise those of wliom I sought my way. At first I
thought the plainness of my appearance, in my country
habit, and that all dusty from the road, consorted ill
■with the greatness of the place to which I was bound.
But after two, or maybe three, had given me the same
look and the same answer, I began to take it in my
head there was something strange about the Shaws itself.

The better to set this fear at rest, I changed the form
of my inquiries ; and spying an honest fellow coming
along a lane on the shaft of his cart, I asked him if he
had ever heard tell of a house they called the house of
Shaws.

He stopped his cart and looked at me, like the others.

"Ay," said he. "What for?"

" It's a great house ?" I asked.

"Doubtless," says he. "The house is a big, muckle
house."

"Ay," said I, "but the folk that are in it ?"

"Folk?" cried he. "Are ye daft? There's nae
folk there— to call folk."

"' What ? " says I ; " not Mr. Ebenezer ?"

"0, ay," says the man; "there's the laird, to be
sure, if it's him you're wanting. What'Il like be your
business, mannie ? "

"I was led to think that I would get a situation,"
I said, lookino; as modest as I could.

10 KIDNAPPED^

"What?" cries the carter, in so sharp a note that
his very horse started; and then, "Well, mannie," he
added, " it's nane of my affairs ; but ye seem a decent-
spoken lad ; and if ye'U take a word from me, ye'll keep
clear of the Shaws."

The next person I came across was a dapper little
man in a beautiful white wig, whom I saw to be a
barber on his rounds ; and knowing well that barbers
were great gossips, I asked him plainly what sort of a
man was Mr. Balfour of the Shaws.

"Hoot, hoot, hoot," said the barber, "nae kind of a
man, nae kind of a man at all ;" and began to ask me
very shrewdly what my business was ; but I was more
than a match for him at that, and he went on to his
next customer no wiser than he came.

I cannot well describe the blow this dealt to my illu-
sions. The more indistinct the accusations were, the
less I liked them, for they left the wider field to fancy.
What kind of a great house was this, that all the parish
should start and stare to be asked the way to it ? or
what sort of a gentleman, that his ill-fame should be
thus current on the wayside ? If an hour's walking
would have brought me back to Essendean, I had left
my adventure then and there, and returned to Mr.
Campbell's. But when I had come so far a way already,
mere shame would not suffer me to desist till I had put
the matter to the touch of proof ; I was bound, out of
mere self-respect, to carry it through ; and little as I

KIDNAPPED. 11

liked the sound of what I heard, and slow as I began
to travel, I still kept asking my way and still kept
advancing.

It was drawing on to sundown when I met a stout,
dark, sour-looking woman coming trudging down a
hill ; and she, when I had put my usual question,
turned sharp about, accompanied me back to the sum-
mit she had just left, and pointed to a great bulk of
building standing very bare upon a green in the bottom
of the next valley. The country was pleasant round
about, running in low hills, pleasantly watered and
wooded, and the crops, to my eyes, wonderfully good ;
but the house itself appeared to be a kind of ruin ; no
road led up to it ; no smoke arose from any of the
chimneys ; nor was there any semblance of a garden.
My heart sank. " That ! " I cried.

The woman's face lit up with a malignant anger.
" That is the house of Shaws ! " she cried. " Blood
built it ; blood stopped the building of it ; blood shall
bring it down. See here!" she cried again — "I spit
upon the ground, and crack my thumb at it ! Black be
its fall ! If ye see the laird, tell him what ye hear ;
tell him this makes the twelve hunuer and nineteen
time that Jennet Clouston has called down the curse
on him and his house, byre and stable, man, guest, and
master, wife, miss, or bairn — black, black be their
fall ! "

And the woman, whose voice had risen to a kind of

12 KIDNAPPED.

eldritch sing-song, turned with a skip, and was gone.
I stood where she left me, with my hair on end. In
these days folk still believed in witches and trembled at
a curse ; and this one, falling so pat, like a wayside
omen, to arrest me ere I carried out my purpose, took
the pith out of my legs.

I sat me down and stared at the house of Shaws.
The more I looked, the pleasanter that country-side
appeared ; being all set with hawthorn bushes full of
flowers ; the fields dotted with sheep ; a fine flight of
rooks in the sky ; and every sign of a kind soil and
climate ; and yet the barrack in the midst of it went
sore against my fancy.

Country folk went by from the fields as I sat there
on the side of the ditch, but I lacked the spirit to give
them a good-e'en. At last the sun went down, and
then, right up against the yellow sky, I saw a scroll of
smoke go mounting, not much thicker, as it seemed to
me, than the smoke of a candle ; but still there it was,
and meant a fire, and warmth, and cookery, and some
living inhabitant that must have lit it ; and this com-
forted my heart wonderfully — more, I feel sure, than a
whole flask of the lily of the valley water that Mrs.
Campbell set so great a store by.

So I set forward by a little faint track in the grass
that led in my direction. It was very faint indeed to
be the only way to a place of habitation ; yet I saw no
other. Presently it brought me to stone uprights, with

KIDNAPPED. 13

an unroofed lodge beside tliem, and coats of arms npon
the top. A main entrance, it was plainly meant to be,
but never finished ; instead of gates of wrought iron, a
pair of hurdles were tied across with a straw rope ; and
as there were no park walls, nor any sign of avenue, the
track that I was following passed on the right hand of
the pillars, and went wandering on toward the house.

The nearer I got to that, the drearier it appeared.
It seemed like tlie one wing of a house that had never
been finished. What should have been the inner end
stood open on the upper floors, and showed against the
sky with steps and stairs of uncompleted masonry.
Many of the windows were unglazed, and bats flew in
and out like doves out of a dove-cote.

The night had begun to fall as I got close ; and in
three of the lower windows, which were very high up,
and narrow, and well barred, the changing light of a
little fire began to glimmer.

Was this the palace I had been coming to ? Was it
within these walls that I was to seek new friends and
begin great fortunes ? Why, in my father's house on
Essen-Waterside, the fire and the bright lights would
show a mile away, and the door open to a beggar's
knock.

I came forward cautiously, and giving ear as I came,
heard some one rattling with dishes, and a little dry,
eager cough that came in fits ; but there was no sound
of speech, and not a dog barked.

14 KIDNAPPED.

The door, as well as I could see it in the dim light,
was a great piece of wood all studded with nails ; and I
lifted my hand with a faint heart under my jacket, and
knocked once. Then I stood and waited. The house
had fallen into a dead silence; a whole minute passed
away, and nothing stirred but the bats overhead. I
knocked again, and hearkened again. By this time my
ears had grown so accustomed to the quiet, that I could
hear the ticking of the clock inside as it slowly counted
out the seconds ; but whoever was in that house kept
deadly still, and must have held his breath.

I was in two minds whether to run away ; but anger
got the upper hand, and I began instead to rain kicks
and buffets on the door, and to shout out aloud for Mr.
Balfour. I was in full career, when I heard the cough
right overhead, and jumping back and looking up,
beheld a man's head in a tall nightcap, and the bell
mouth of a blunderbuss, at one of the first storey
windows.

" It's loaded," said a voice.

"I have come here with a letter," I said, "to Mr.
Ebenezer Balfour of Shaws. Is he here ? "

** From whom is it?" asked the man with the
blunderbuss.

''That is neither here nor there," said I, for I was
growing very wroth.

"Well," was the reply, "ye can put it down upon
the doorstep, and be off with ye."

KIDNAPPED. 15

" I will do no such thing," I cried. " I will deliver
it into Mr. Balfour's hands, as it was meant I should. It
is a letter of introduction."

" A what ? " cried the voice, sharply.

I repeated what I had said.

" Who are ye, yourself ? " was the next question,
after a considerable pause.

"I am not ashamed of my name," said I. "They
call me David Balfour."

At that, I made sure the man started, for I heard the
blunderbuss rattle on the window-sill ; and it was after
quite a long pause, and with a curious change of voice,
that the next question followed :

" Is your father dead ? "

I was so much surprised at this, that I could find no
voice to answer, but stood staring.

"Ay," the man resumed, " he'll be dead, no doubt;
and that'll be what brings ye chapping to my door."
Another pause, and then, defiantly, "Well, man," he
said, "I'll let ye in;" and he disappeared from the
window.

CHAPTER III.

I MAKE ACQUAINTANCE OF MY UNCLE.

Peesently there came a great rattling of chains and
bolts, and the door was cautiously opened, and shut to
again behind me as soon as I had passed.

" Go into the kitchen and touch naething," said the
voice ; and while the person of the house set himself to
replacing the defences of the door, I groped my way
forward and entered the kitchen.

The fire had burned up fairly bright, and showed me
the barest room I think I ever put my eyes on. Half-
a-dozen dishes stood upon the shelves ; the table was laid
for supper with a bowl of porridge, a horn spoon, and a
cup of small beer. Besides what I have named, there
was not another thing in that great, stone-vaulted,
empty chamber, but lockfast chests arranged along the
wall and a corner cupboard with a padlock.

As soon as the last chain was up the man rejoined
me. He was a mean, stooping, narrow-shouldered, clav-
faced creature ; and his age might have been anything
between fifty and seventy. His nightcap was of flannel,
and so was the nightgown that he wore, instead of coat
and waistcoat, over his ragged shirt. He was long un-

KIDNAPPED. 17

shaved ; but what most distressed and even daunted me,
he would neither take his eyes away from me nor look
me fairly in the face. What he was, whether by trade
or birth, was more than I could fathom ; but he seemed
most like an old, unprofitable serving-man, who should
have been left in charge of that big house upon board
wages.

"Are ye sharp-set?" he asked, glancing at about
the level of my knee. " Ye can eat that drop parritch."

I said I feared it was his own supper.

" 0," said he, " I can do fine wanting it. I'll take
the ale though, for it slockens* my cough." He drank
the cup about half out, still keeping an eye upon me as
he drank; and then suddenly held out his hand. "Let's
see the letter," said he.

I told him the letter was for Mr. Balfour ; not for
him.

" And who do ye think I am ? " says he. " Give me
Alexander's letter ! "

" You know my father's name ? "

" It would be strange if I didnae," he returned, " for
he was my born brother ; and little as ye seem to like
either me or my house, or my good parritch, I'm your
born uncle, Davie my man, and you my born nephew.
So give us the letter, and sit down and fill your kyte."

If I had been some years younger, what with shame,
weariness, and disappointment, I believe I had burst

* Moistens.
2

18 KIDNAPPED.

into tears. As it was, I could find no words, neither
black nor white, but handed him the letter, and sat down
to the porridge with as little appetite for meat as ever
a young man had.

Meanwhile, my uncle, stooping over the fire, turned
the letter over and over in his hands.

" Do ye ken what's in it ?" he asked suddenly.

"You see for yourself, sir," said I, "that the seal
has not been broken."

"Ay," said he, " but what brought you here ?"

"To give the letter," said I.

" No," says he, cunningly, " but ye'll have had some
hopes, nae doubt ? "

" I confess, sir," said I, " when I was told that I
had kinsfolk well-to-do, I deed indeed indulge the hope
that they might help me in my life. But 1 am no
beggar ; I look for no favours at your hands, and I
want none that are not freely given. For as poor as I
appear, I have friends of my own that will be blithe to
help me."

" Hoot-hoot ! " said Uncle Ebenezer, " dinnae fly up
in the snuff at me. We'll agree fine yet. And, Davie
my man, if you're done with that bit parritch, I could
just take a sup of it myself. Ay," he continued, as
soon as he had ousted me from the stool and spoon,
" they're fine, halesome food— they're grand food, par-
ritch." He murmured a little grace to himself and
fell to. " Your father was very fond of liis meat, I

KIDNAPPED. 19

mind ; he was a heavty, if not a great eater ; but as for
me, I could never do mair than pyke at food." He took
a pull at the small beer, which probably reminded him
of hospitable duties ; for his next speech ran thus : '* If
ye're dry, ye'll find water behind the door."

To this I returned no answer, standing stiffly on my
two feet, and looking down upon my uncle with a
mighty angry heart. He, on his part, continued to eat
like a man under some pressure of time, and to throw
out little darting glances now at my shoes and now at
my homespun stockings. Once only, when he had
ventured to look a little higher, our eyes met ; and no
thief taken with a hand in a man's pocket could have
shown more lively signals of distress. This set me in a
muse, whether his timidity arose from too long a disuse
of any human company ; and whether perhaps, upon a
little trial, it might pass off, and my uncle change into
an altogether different man. From this I was awakened
by his sharp voice.

" Your father's been long dead ? " he asked.

" Three weeks, sir," said I.

" He was a secret man, Alexander ; a secret, silent
man," he continued. " He never said muckle when he
was young. He'll never have spoken muckle of me ? "

" I never knew, six*, till you told it me yourself, that
he had any brother."

"Dear me, dear me ! "' said Ebenezer. "Nor yet of
Shaws, I daresay ? "

20 KIDNAPPED.

"Not so much as the name, sir," said I.

"To think o' that!" said he. "A strange nature
of a man ! '' For all that, he seemed singularly satis-
fied, but whether with himself, or me, or with this
conduct of my father's, was more than I could read.
Certainly, however, he seemed to be outgrowing that
distaste, or ill-will, that he had conceived at first against
my person ; for presently he jumped up, came across
the room behind me, and hit mo a smack upon the
shoulder. "We'll agree fine yet!'' he cried. "I'm
just as glad I let you in. And now come awa' to your
bed."

To my surprise, he lit no lamp or candle, but set
forth into the dark passage, groped his way, breathing
deeply, up a flight of steps, and paused before a door,
which he unlocked. I was close upon his heels, having
stumbled after him as best I might ; and he bade me
go in, for that was my chamber. I did as he bid, but
paused after a few steps, and begged a light to go to
bed with.

"Hoot-toot!" said Uncle Ebenezev, "there's a fine
moon."

"Neither moon nor star, sir, and pit-mirk,"* said I.
" I cannae see the bed."

"Hoot-toot, hoot-toot!" said he. "Lights in a
house is a thing I dinnae agree with. I'm unco feared
of fires. Good night to ye, Davie my man." And
* Dark as the pit.

KIDNAPPED. 21

before I had time to add a further protest, he pulled
the door to, and I heard him lock me in from the
outside.

I did not know whether to laugh or cry. The room
was as cold as a Avell, and the bed, when I had found
my way to it, as damp as a peat-hag ; but by good
fortune I had caught up my bundle and my plaid, and
rolling myself in the latter, I hiy down upon the floor
under the lee of the big bedstead, and fell speedily
asleep.

With the first peeji of day I opened my eyes, to find
myself in a great chamber, hung with stamped leather,
furnished with fine embroidered furniture, and lit by
three fair windows. Ten years ago, or perhaps twenty,
it must have been as pleasant a room to lie down or
to awake in, as a man could wish ; but damp, dirt,
disuse, and the mice and spiders had done their worst
since then. Many of the window-panes, besides, were
broken ; and indeed this was so common a feature in
that house, that I believe my uncle must at some time
have stood a siege from his indignant neighbours — per-
haps with Jennet Clouston at their head.

Meanwhile the sun was shining outside ; and being
very cold in that miserable room, I knocked and
shouted till my gaoler came and let me out. He carried
me to the back of the house, where was a draw-well,
and told me to " wash my face there, if I wanted ; "
and when that was done, I made the best of my own

22 KIDNAPPED.

way back to the kitchen, where he had lit the fire and
was making the porridge. The table was laid with two
bowls and two horn spoons, but the same single
measure of small beer. Perhaps my eye rested on this
particular with some surprise, and perhaps my uncle
observed it ; for he spoke up as if in answer to my
thought, asking me if I would like to drink ale — for so
he called it.

I told him such was my habit, but not to put himself
about.

"Na, na," said he; "I'll deny you nothing in
reason. "

He fetched another cup from the shelf ; and then, to
my great surprise, instead of drawing more beer, he
poured an accurate half from one cup to the other.
There was a kind of nobleness in this that took my
breath away ; if my uncle was certainly a miser, he was
one of that thorough breed that goes near to make the
vice respectable.

When we had made an end of our meal, my uncle
Ebenezer unlocked a drawer, and drew out of it a clay
pipe and a lump of tobacco, from which he cut one fill
before he locked it up again. Then he sat down in the
sun at one of the windows and silently smoked. From
time to time his eyes came coasting round to me, and
he shot out one of his questions. Once it was, " And
your mother ? " and when I had told him that she,
too, was dead, "Ay, she was a bonnie lassie !" Then

KIDNAPPED. 23

after another long pause, " Whae were these friends o'
yours ? "

I told him they were different gentlemen of the
name of Campbell ; though, indeed, there was only one,
and that the minister, that had ever taken the least
note of me ; but I began to think my uncle made too
light of my position, and finding myself all alone with
him, I did not wish him to suppose me helpless.

He seemed to turn this over in his mind ; and then,
" Davie my man," said he, "ye've come to the right bit
when ye came to your Uncle Ebenezer. I've a great
notion of the family, and I mean to do the right by
you ; but while I'm taking a bit think to mysel' of
what's the best thing to put you to — whether the law,
or the meeuistry, or maybe the army, whilk is what
boys are fondest of — I wouldnae like the Balfours to be
humbled before a wheen Hieland Campbells, and I'll
ask you to keep your tongue within your teeth. Nae
letters; nae messages ; no kind of word to onybody ; or
else — there's my door."

"Uncle Ebenezer," said I, "I've no manner of reason
to suppose you mean anything but well by me. For all
that, I would have you to know that I have a pride of
my own. It was by no will of mine that I came seeking
you ; and if you show me your door again, I'll take you
at the word."

He seemed grievously put out. "Hoots-toots," said
he, " ca' cannie, man — ca' cannie ! Bide a day or two.

24 KIDNAPPED.

I'm iiae warlock, to find a fortune for you in the bottom
of a parritcli bowl ; but just you give me a day or two,
and say naething to naebody, and as sure as sure, I'll do
the right by you."

"Very well," said I, "enough said. If you want to
help me, there's no doubt but I'll be glad of it, and
none but I'll be grateful."

It seemed to me (too soon, I daresay) that I was get-
ting the upper hand of my uncle ; and I began next to
say that I must have the bed and bedclothes aired and
put to sun-dry; for nothing would make me sleep in
such a pickle,

" Is this my house or yours ? " said he, in his keen
voice, and then all of a sudden broke off. "Na, na,"
said he, "I dinnae mean that. What's mine is yours,
Davie my man, and what's yours is mine. Blood's
thicker than water ; and there's naebody but you and
me that ought the name." And then on he rambled
about the family, and its ancient greatness, and his
father that began to enlarge the house, and himself
that stopped the building as a sinful waste ; and this put
it in my head to give him Jennet Clouston's message.

"The limmer!" he cried. "Twelve hunner and
fifteen — that's every day since I had the limmer row-
pit ! * Dod, David, I'll have her roasted on red peats
before I'm by with it ! A witch — a pi-oclaimed witch !
I'll aff and see the session clerk."
* Sold up.

KIDNAPPED. 25

And with that he opened a chest, and got ont a very
old and well-preserved blue coat and waistcoat, and a
good enough beaver hat, both without lace. These he
threw on anyway, and taking a staff from the cupboard,
locked all up again, and was for setting out, when a
thought arrested him.

''I cannae leave you by yoursel' in the house," said
he. "I'll have to lock you out."

The blood came into my face. ''If you lock me out,"
I said, "it'll be the last you see of me in friendship."

He turned very pale, and sucked his mouth in. "This
is no the way," he said, looking wickedly at a corner of
the floor — "this is no the way to win my favour,
David."

"Sir," says I, "with a proper reverence for your age
and our common blood, I do not value your favour at a
boddle's purchase. I was brought up to have a good
conceit of myself ; and if you were all the uncle, and all
the family, I had in the world ten times over, I wouldn't
buy your liking at such prices."

Uncle Ebenezer went and looked out of the window
for a while. I could see him all trembling and twitch-
ing, like a man with palsy. But when he turned round,
he had a smile upon his face.

"Well, well," said he, "we must bear and forbear.
I'll no go ; that's all that's to be said of it."

"Uncle Ebenezer," I said, " I can make nothing out
of this. You use me like a thief ; you hate to have me

26 ■ KIDNAPPED.

in this house ; you let me see it, every word and every
minute ; it's not possible that you can like me ; and as
for me, I've spoken to you as I never thought to speak
to any man. Why do you seek to keep me, then ? Let
me gang back— let me gang back to the friends I have,
and that like me ! "

"Na, na ; na, na," he said, very earnestly. "I like
you fine ; we'll agree fine yet ; and for the honour of the
house I couldnae let you leave the way ye came. Bide
here quiet, there's a good lad ; just you bide here quiet
a bittie, and ye'll find that we agree."

" Well, sir," said I, after I had thought the matter
out in silence, 'Til stay a while. It's more just I
should be helped by my own blood than strangers ; and
if we don't agree, I'll do my best it shall be through no
fault of mine."

CHAPTER IV.

I EUN A GKEAT BANGEK IN THE HOUSE OF SHAWS.

For a day that was begun so ill, the day passed fairly
well. We had the porridge cold again at noon, and hot
porridge at night : porridge and small beer was my
uncle's diet. He spoke but little, and that in the same
way as before, shooting a question at me after a long
silence ; and when I sought to lead him in talk about
my future, slipped out of it again. In a room next door
to the kitchen, where he suffered me to go, I found a
great number of books, both Latin and English, in
which I took great pleasure all the afternoon. Indeed
the time passed so lightly in this good company, that I
began to be almost reconciled to my residence at Shaws ;
and nothing but the sight of my uncle, and his eyes
playing hide and seek with mine, revived the force of
my distrust.

One thing I discovered, which put me in some doubt.
This was an entry on the fly-leaf of a chapbook (one of
Patrick Walker's) plainly written by my father's hand
and thus conceived : " To my brother Ebenezer on his
fifth birthday." Now, what puzzled me was this :
That as my father was of course the younger brother,
he must either have made some strange error, or he must

28 KIDNAPPED.

have written, before he was yet five, an excellent, clear,
manly hand of writing.

I tried to get this out of my head ; but though I
took down many interesting authors, old and new,
history, poetry, and story-book, this notion of my
father's hand of writing stuck to me ; and when at
length I went back into the kitchen, and sat down once
more to porridge and small beer, the first thing I said to
Uncle Ebeuezer was to ask him if my father had not
been very quick at his book.

"Alexander? No him!" was the reply. "I was
far quicker mysel' ; T was a clever chappie when I was
young. Why, I could read as soon as he could."

This puzzled me yet more ; and a thought coming
into my head, I asked if he and my father had been
twins.

He jumped upon his stool, and the horn spoon fell
out of his hand upon the floor. " What gars ye ask
that ?" he said, and caught me by the breast of the
jacket, and looked this time straight into my eyes ; his
own, which were little and light, and bright like a
bird's, blinking and winking strangely.

"What do you mean?" I asked, very calmly, for I
was far stronger than he, and not easily frightened.
" Take your hand from my jacket. This is no way to
behave.'"

My uncle seemed to make a great effort upon him-
self. "Dod, man David," he said, "ye shouldnae

KIDNAPPED. 29

speak to me about your father. That's where the
mistake is." He sat a while and shook, blinking in his
plate : " He was all the brother that ever I had," he
added, but with no heart in his voice ; and then he
caught up his spoon and fell to supper again, but still
shaking.

Now this last passage, this laying of hands upon my
person and sudden profession of love for my dead father,
went so clean beyond my comprehension that it put me
into both fear and hope. On the one hand, I began to
think my uncle was perhaps insane and might be dan-
gerous ; on the other, there came up into my mind
(quite unbidden by me and even discouraged) a story
like some ballad I had heard folk singing, of a poor lad
that was a rightful heir and a wicked kinsman that tried
to keep him from his own. For why should my uncle
play a part Avith a relative that came, almost a beggar,
to his door, unless in his heart he had some cause to
fear him ?

With this notion, all unacknowledged, but neverthe-
less getting firmly settled in my head, I now began to
imitate his covert looks ; so that we sat at table like a
cat and a mouse, each stealthily observing the other.
Not another word had he to say to me, black or white,
but was busy turning something secretly over in his
mind ; and the longer we sat and the more I looked at
him, the more certain I became that the something was
unfriendly to myself.

80 KIDNAPPED.

When he had cleared the platter, he got out a single
pipeful of tobacco, just as in the morning, turned round
a stool into the chimney corner, and sat a while smoking,
with his back to me.

"Davie," he said, at length, "I've been thinking;"
then he paused, and said it again. " There's a wee bit
siller that I half promised ye before ye were born," he
continued ; " promised it to your father. 0, naething
legal, ye understand ; just gentlemen daflBng at their
wine. Well, I keepit that bit money separate — it was
a great expense, but a promise is a promise — and it has
grown by now to be a maitter of just precisely — just
exactly" — and here he paused and stumbled — " of just
exactly forty pounds !" This last he rapped out with a
sidelong glance over his shoulder ; and the next moment
added, almost with a scream, " Scots I"

The pound Scots being the same thing as an English
shilling, the difference made by this second thought was
considerable ; I could see, besides, that the whole story
was a lie, invented with some end which it puzzled me to
guess ; and I made no attempt to conceal the tone of
raillery in which I answered :

"0, think again, sir! Pounds sterling, I believe !"

" That's what I said," returned my uncle ; " pounds
sterling ! And if you'll step out-by to tlie door a
minute, just to see what kind of a night it is, I'll get it
out to ye and call ye in again."

I did his will, smiling to myself in my contempt that

KIDNAPPED. 81

he should think I was so easily to be deceived. It was
a dark night, with a few stars low down ; and as I stood
just outside the door, I heard a hollow moaning of wind
far off among the hills. I said to myself there was
something thundery and changeful in the weather, and
little knew of what a vast importance that should prove
to me before the evening passed.

When I was called in again, my uncle counted out
into my hand seven and thirty golden guinea pieces ;
the rest was in his hand, in small gold and silver ; but
his heart failed him there, and he crammed the change
into his pocket,

"There," said he, "that'll show you! I'm a queer
man, and strange wi' strangers ; but my word is my
bond, and there's the proof of it."

Now, my uncle seemed so miserly that I was struck
dumb by this sudden generosity, and could find no
words in which to thank him.

"No a word ! " said he. "Nae thanks ; I want nae
thanks. I do my duty ; I'm no saying that everybody
would have done it ; but for my part (though I'm
a careful body, too) it's a pleasure to me to do the
right by my brother's son ; and it's a pleasure to me to
think that now we'll can agree as such near friends
should."

I spoke him in return as handsomely as I was able ;
but all the while I was wondering what would come
next, and why he had parted with his precious guineas;

32 KIDNAPPED.

for as to the reason he had given, a baby would have
refused it.

Presently, he looked towards me sideways :

" And see here," says he, " tit for tat."

I told him I was ready to prove my gratitude in any
reasonable degree, and then waited, looking for some
monstrous demand. And yet, when at last he plucked
up courage to speak, it was only to tell me (very prop-
erly, as I thought) that he was growing old and a little
broken, and that he would expect me to help him with
the house and the bit garden.

I answered, and expressed my readiness to serve.

''Well," he said, ''let's begin." He pulled out of
his pocket a rusty key. " There," says he, " there's the
key of the stair-tower at the far end of the house. Ye
can only win into it from the outside, for that part of
the house is no finished. Gang ye in there, and up the
stairs, and bring me down the chest that's at the top.
There's papers in't,"' he added.

" Can I have a light, sir ? '' said I.

"Na," said he, very cunningly. "Nae lights in my
house."

" Very well, sir," said I. " Are the stairs good ? "

" They're grand," said he ; and then as I was going,
" Keep to the wall," he added ; " there's nac bannisters.
But the stairs are grand underfoot."

Out I went into tlie night. The wind was still
moaning in the distance, though never a breath of it

KIDNAPPED. 33

came near the house of Shaws. It had fallen blacker
than ever ; and 1 was glad to feel along the wall, till I
came the length of the stair-tower door at the far end
of the unfinished wing. I had got the iiey into the
kejdiole and had just turned it, when all upon a
sudden, without sound of wind or thunder, the Avhole
sky was liglited up with wild fire and went black again.
I had to put my hand over my eyes to get back to the
colour of the darkness ; and indeed I was already half
blinded when I stepped into the tower.

It was so dark inside, it seemed a body could scarce
breathe ; but I pushed out with foot and hand, and
presently struck the wall with the one, and the lower-
most round of the stair with the other. The wall, by
the touch, was of fine hewn stone ; the steps too,
though somewhat steep and narrow, were of polished
mason-work, and regular and solid underfoot. Minding
my uncle's word about the bannisters, I kept close to
the tower side, and felt my way up in the pitch dark-
ness with a beating heart.

The house of Shaws stood some five full storeys
high, not counting lofts. Well, as I advanced, it
seemed to me the stair grew airier and a tl)ought more
lightsome ; and I was wondering what might be the
cause of this change, when a second blink of the sum-
mer lightning came and went. If I did not cry out, it
was because fear had me by the throat ; and if I did
not fall, it was more by Heaven's mercy than my own
3

34 KIDNAPPED.

strength. It was not only that the flash shone in on
every side through breaches in the wall, so that I
seemed to be clambering aloft upon an open scaffold,
but the same passing brightness showed me the steps
were of unequal length, and that one of my feet rested
that moment within two inches of the well.

This was the grand stair ! I thought ; and with the
thought, a gust of a kind of angry courage came into
my heart. My uncle had sent me here, certainly to run
great risks, perhaps to die. I swore I would settle that
"perhaps," if I should break my neck for it ; got me
down upon my hands and knees ; and as slowly as a
snail, feeling before me every inch, and testing the
solidity of every stone, I continued to ascend the stair.
Tiie darkness, by contrast with the flash, appeared to
have redoubled ; nor was that all ; for my ears were
now troubled and my mind confounded by a great stir
of bats in the top part of the tower, and the foul beasts,
flying downwards, sometimes beat about my face and
body.

The tower, I should have said, was square ; and in
every corner the step was made of a great stone of a
different shape, to join the flights. Well, I had come
close to one of these turns, when, feeling forward as usual,
my hand slipped upon an edge and found nothing but
emptiness beyond it. The stair had been carried no
higher: to set a stranger mounting it in the darkness
was to send him straight to his death ; and (although,

KIDNAPPED. 35

thanks to the lightning and my own precautions, I was
safe enough) the mere thought of the peril in which I
miglit have stood, and the dreadful height I might have
fallen from, brought out the sweat upon my body and
relaxed my joints.

But I knew what I wanted now, and turned and
groped my way down again, with a wonderful anger in
my heart. About half-way down, the wind sprang up
in a clap and shook the tower, and died again ; the rain
followed ; and before I had reached the ground level, it
fell in buckets. I put out my head into the storm, and
looked along towards the kitchen. The door, which I
had shut behind me when I left, now stood open, and
shed a little glimmer of light ; and I thought I could
see a figure standing in the rain, quite still, like a man
hearkening. And then there came a blinding flash,
which showed me my uncle plainly, just where I had
fancied him to stand ; and hard upon the heels of it, a
gi'cat tow-row of tli under.

Now, whether my uncle thought the crash to be the
sound of my fall, or Avhether he heard in it God's voice
denouncing murder, I will leave you to guess. Certain
it is, at least, that he was seized on by a kind of panic
fear, and that he ran into the house and left the door
open behind him. I followed as softly as I could, and,
coming unheard into the kitchen, stood and watched
him.

He had found time to open the corner cupboard and

36 KIDNAPPED.

bring out a great case bottle of aqiia vitfe, and now sat
with his back towards me at the table. Ever and again
he would be seized with a fit of deadly shuddering and
groan aloud, and carrying the bottle to Ins lips, drink
down the raw spirits by the mouthful.

I stepped forward, came close behind him where he
sat, and suddenly clapping my two hands down upon
his shoulders — "Ah !" cried I.

My uncle gave a kind of broken cry like a sheep's
bleat, flung up his arms, and tumbled to the floor like a
dead man. I was somewhat shocked at this ; but I had
myself to look to first of all, and did not hesitate to let
him lie as he had fallen. The keys were hanging in the
cupboard ; and it was my design to furnish myself with
arms before my uncle should come again to his senses and
the power of devising evil. In the cupboard were a few
bottles, some apparently of medicine ; a great many bills
and other papers, which I should willingly enough have
rummaged, had I had the time ; and a few necessaries,
that were nothing to my ])urpose. Thence I turned to
the chests. The first was full of meal ; the second of
money-bags and papers tied into sheaves ; in the third,
with many other things (and these for the most part
clothes) I found a rusty, ugly-looking Highland dirk
without the scabbard. This, then, I concealed inside my
waistcoat, and turned to my uncle.

He lay as he had fallen, all huddled, with one knee up
and one arm sprawling abroad ; his face had a strange

KIDNAPPED. 87

colour of blue, and he seemed to have ceased breathing-.
Fear came on me that he was dead ; then I got water
and dashed it in his face ; and with that he seemed to
come a little to himself, working his mouth and flutter-
ing his eyelids. At last he looked up and saw me, and
there came into his eyes a terror that was not of this
world.

"Come, come," said I, '^sit up."

''Are ye alive ?" he sobbed. " 0 man, are ye alive ?"

" That am I," said I. "Sm.all thanks to you ! "

He had begun to seek for his breath with deep sighs.
"The blue phial," said he — *'in the aumry — the blue
phial." Ilis breath came slower still.

I ran to the cupboard, and, sure enough, found there
a blue phial of medicine, with the dose written on it on
a paper, and this I administered to him with what s])eed
I might.

"It's the trouble," said he, reviving a little; "I
have a trouble, Davie. It's the heart."

I set him on a chair and looked at him. It is true I
felt some pity for a man that looked so sick, but I was
full besides of righteous anger ; and I numbered over
before him the points on which I wanted explanation ;
why he lied to me at every word ; why he feared that I
should leave him ; why he disliked it to be hinted that
he and my father were twins — "Is that because it is
true ?" I asked ; why he had given me money to which
I was convinced I had no claim ; and, last of all, why he

38 KIDNAPPED.

had tried to kill mo. He heard me all through in
silence ; and then, in a broken voice, begged me to let
him go to bed.

"I'll tell ye the morn,'' he said; " as sure as deatli
I will."

Arid so weak was he that I could do nothing but con-
sent. I locked him into his room, however, and pocketed
the key ; and then returning to the kitchen, made up
such a blaze as hat! not shone there for many a, louji;
year, and wrapping myself in my pl-iid, lay down ujjon
the chests and fell asleep.

CHAPTER V.

I GO TO THE queen's FERRY.

Much rain fell in the night ; and the next morning
there blew a bitter wintry wind out of the north-west,
driving scattered clouds. For all that, and before the
sun began to peep or the last of the stars had vanished,
I made my way to the side of the burn, and had a plunge
in a deep whirling pool. All aglow from my bath, I
sat down once more beside the fire, which I replenished,
and began gravely to consider my position.

There was now no doubt about my uncle's enmity ;
there was no doubt I carried my life in my hand, and
he would leave no stone unturned that he might com-
pass my destruction. But I was young and spirited,
and like most lads that have been country-bred, I had
a great opinion of my shrewdness. I had come to his
door no better than a beggar and little more than a
child ; he had met me with treachery and violence ; it
would be a fine consummation to take the upper hand,
and drive him like a herd of sheep.

I sat there nursing my knee and smiling at the fire ;
and I saw myself in fancy smell out his secrets one
after another, and grow to be that man's king and ruler.
The warlock of Essendean, they say, had made a mirror

40 KIDNAPPED.

in which men conld read the future ; it must have been
of other stuff than burning coal ; for in all the shapes
and pictures that I sat and gazed at, there was never a
ship, never a seaman with a hairy cap, never a big
bludgeon for my silly head, or the least sign of all those
tribulations that were ripe to fall on me.

Presently, all swollen with conceit, I went up-stairs
and gave my prisoner his liberty. He gave me good
morning civilly ; and I gave the same to him, smiling
down upon him from the heights of my sufficiency.
Soon we were set to breakfast, as it might have been
the day before.

"Well, sir," said I, with a jeering tone, "have you
nothing more to say to me ? " And then, as he made
no articulate reply, "It will be time, I think, to under-
stand each other," I continued. " You took me for a
country Johnnie Raw, with no more mother-wit or
courage than a porridge-stick. I took you for a good
man, or no worse than others at the least. It seems we
were both wrong. What cause you have to fear me, to
cheat me, and to attempt my life "

He murmured something about a jest, and that he
liked a bit of fun ; and then, seeing me smile, changed
his tone, and assured me he would make all clear as
soon as we had breakfasted. I saw by his face that he
had no lie ready for me, though he was hard at work
preparing one ; and I think I was about to tell him so,
wheu we were interrupted by a knocking at the door.

KIDNAPPED. 41

Bidding my uncle sit where he was, I went to open it,
and found on the doorstep a half-grown boy in sea-
clothes. He had no sooner seen me than he began to
dance some steps of the sea-hornpipe (which I had
never before heard of, far less seen) snapping his fingers
in the air and footing it right cleverly. For all that,
he was blue with the cold ; and there was something in
his face, a look between tears and laughter, that was
highly pathetic and consisted ill with this gaiety of
manner.

''What cheer, mate?" says he, with a cracked
voice.

I asked him soberly to name his pleasure.

" 0, pleasure ! " says he ; and then began to sing :

" For it's my delight, of a shiny night
In the season of tho year. "

"Well," said I, "if you have no business at all, I
will even be so unmannerly as shut you out."

" Stay, brother ! " he cried. " Have you no fun
about you ? or do you want to get me thrashed ? I've
brought a letter from old Heasy-oasy to Mr. Belflower."
He showed me a letter as he spoke. "And I say,
mate." he added, " I'm mortal hungry."

"Well," said I, "come into the house, and yon shall
have a bite if I go empty for it."

With that 1 brought him in and set liim down to
my own place, where he foU-to greedily on the remains

42 KIDNAPPED.

of breakfast, winking to mo between whiles, and making
many faces, which I think the poor soul considered
manly. Meanwhile, my uncle had read the letter and
sat thinking ; then, suddenly, he got to his feet with a
great air of liveliness, and pulled me apart into the
furthest corner of the room.

" Kead that," said he, and put the letter in my
hand.

Hero it is, lying before me as I write :

" The Hawes Inn, at the Queen's Perry.
" Sir, — I lie here with my hawser up and down, and send my
cabin-boy to informe. If you have any further commands for
over-seas, to-day will be the last occasion, as the wind will serve
us well out of the firth. I will not seek to deny that I have hatl
crosses with your doer,* Mr. Rankeillor ; of which, if not speedily
redd up, you may looke to see some losses follow. I have drawn
a bill upon you, as per margin, and am, sir, your most obedt.,
humble servant, Elias Hoseason."

" You see, Davie,'' resumed my uncle, as soon as he
saw that I had done, " I have a venture with this man
Hoseason, the captain of a trading brig, the Covenant,
of Dysart. Now, if yoiT and me was to walk over with
yon lad, I could see the captain at the Hawes, or maybe
on board the Covenant, if there was papers to be signed ;
and so far from a loss of time, we can jog on to the
lawyer, Mr. Rankeillor's. After a' that's come and
gone, ye would be swier f to believe me upon my

* Agent. I Unwilling.

KIDNAPPED. 43

naked word ; but ye'll can Ijelievc Rankeillor. He's
factor to half the gentry in these parts ; an auld
man, forby : highly respeckit ; and he kenned your
father."

I stood awhile and thought. I was going to some
place of shipping, which was doubtless populous, and
where my uncle durst attempt no violence, and, indeed,
even the society of the cabin-boy so far protected me.
Once there, I believed I could force on the visit to the
lawyer, even if my uncle were now insincere in jjropos-
ing it ; and perhaps, in the bottom of my heart, I
wished a nearer view of the sea and ships. You are to
remember I had lived all my life in the inland hills, and
just two days before had my first sight of the firth
lying like a blue floor, and the sailed ships moving on
the face of it, no bigger than toys. One thing with
another, I made up my mind.

" Very well," says I, " let us go to the ferry."

My uncle got into his hat and coat, and buckled an
old rusty cutlass on ; and then we trod the fire out,
locked the door, and set forth upon our walk.

The wind, being in that cold quarter, the north-west,
blew nearly in our faces as we went. It was the mouth
of June; the grass was all white with daisies and the
trees with blossom : but, to Judge by our blue nails and
aching wrists, the time might have been winter and
the whiteness a December frost.

Uncle Ebenezcr trudged in the ditch, jogging from

44 KIDNAPPED.

side to side like an old ploughman coming home from
work. He never said a word the whole way ; and I
was thrown for talk on the cabin-boy. He told me
his name was Ransome, and that he had followed the
sea since he was nine, but could not say how old he
was, as he had lost his reckoning. He showed me tattoo
marks, baring his breast in the teeth of the wind and
in spite of my remonstrances, for I thought it was
enough to kill him ; he swore horribly whenever he
remembered, but more like a silly schoolboy than a
man ; and boasted of many wild and bad things that he
had done: stealthy thefts, false accusations, ay, and even
murder; but all with such a dearth of likelihood in the
details, and such a weak and crazy swagger in the
delivery, as disposed me rather to pity than to believe
him.

I asked him of the brig (which he declared was the
finest ship that sailed) and of Cajjtain Hoseason, in
whose praise he was equally loud. Heasy-oasy (for so
he still named the skipper) was a man, by his account,
that minded for nothing either in heaven or earth ; one
that, as people said, would " crack on all sail into the
day of judgment ; " rough, fierce, unscrupulous, and
brutal ; and all this my poor cal)in-boy had taught him-
self to admire as something seamanlike and manly. He
would only admit one flaw in his idol. " He ain't no
seaman," he admitted. ''Tiiat'sMr. Shuan that navi-
gates the brig ; he's the finest seaman in the trade, only

KIDNAPPED. 45

for drink ; and I tell you I believe it ! Why, look
'ere ; " and turning down his stocking, he showed me a
great, raw, red wound that made my blood run cold.
"He done that — Mr. Shuan done it," he said, with an
air of jjride.

''What !" I cried, "do you take such savage usage
at his hands ? AVhy, you are no slave to be so handled !"

"No," said the poor moon-calf, changing his tune
at once, "and so he'll find ! See 'ere ;" and he showed
me a great case-knife, which he told me was stolen.
'"0," says he, "let mc see him try ; I dare him to ;
I'll do for him! 0, he ain't the fiist!" And he
confirmed it with a poor, silly, ngly oath.

I have never felt such a pity for any one in this wide
world as I felt for that half-witted creature ; and it
began to come over me that the brig Covenant (for all
her pious name) was little better than a hell upon the
seas.

" Have you no friends ? " said I.

Pie said he had a father in some English seaport, I
forget which. "He was a fine man, too," he said;
"but he's dead."

"In Heaven's name," cried I, "can you find no
reputable life on shore ? "

"0, no!" says he, winking and looking very sly;
" they would put me to a trade. I know a trick worth
two of that, I do ! "

I asked him what trade could be so dreadful as the

46 KIDNAPPED.

one he followed, where ho ran the continual peril of his
life, not alone from wind and sea, but by the horrid
cruelty of those who were his masters. He said it was
very true ; and then began to praise the life, and tell
what a pleasure it was to get on shore with money in
his pocket, and spend it like a man, and buy apples, and
swagger, and surprise what he called stick-in-the-mud
boys. "And then it's not all as bad as that," says
he; "there's worse off than me: there's the twenty-
pounders. 0, laws ! you should see them taking on.
Why, I've seen a man as old as you, I dessay " — (to him
I seemed old) — "ah, and he had a beard, too — well,
and as soon as we cleared out of the river, and he had
the drug out of his head — my ! how he cried and car-
ried on ! I made a fine fool of him, I tell you ! And
then there's little uns, too : 0, little by me ! I tell you,
I keep them in order. When we carry little uns, I have
a rope's end of my own to wollop 'em." And so he ran
on, until it came in on me that what he meant by
twenty-pounders were those unhappy criminals who
were sent over-seas to slavery in North America, or the
still more unhappy innocents who were kidnapped or
trepanned (as the Avord went) for private interests or
vengeance.

Just then we came to the top of the hill, and looked
down on the ferry and the hope. The Firth of Forth
(as is ver}'^ well known) narrows at this point to the
width of a good-sized river, which makes a conven-

KIDNAPPED. 4:7

lent ferry going north, and turns the upper reach
into a land-locked haven for all manner of ships. Eight
in the midst of the narrows lies an islet with some ruins ;
on the south shore they have built a pier for the service
of the ferry ; and at the end of the pier, on the other
side of the road, and backed against a pretty garden of
holly-trees and hawthorns, I could see the building
which they call the the Hawcs Inn.

The town of Queensferry lies farther west, and the
neighbourhood of the inn looked pretty lonely at that
time of day, for the boat had just gone north Avith pas-
sengers. A skiff, however, lay beside the pier, with
some seamen sleeping on the thwarts; this, as Ransome
told me, was the brig's boat waiting for the captain ;
and about half a mile off, and all alone in the anchor-
age, he showed me the Covenant herself. There was a
sea-going bustle on board ; yards were swinging into
place ; and as the wind blew from that quarter, I could
hear the song of the sailors as they pulled upon the
ropes. After all I had listened to upon the way,
I looked at that ship with an extreme abhorrence ; and
from the bottom of ray heart I pitied all poor souls
that were condemned to sail in her.

We had all three pulled up on the brow of the hill ;
and now I marched across the road and addressed my
uncle. " I think it right to tell you, sir," says I,
" there's nothing that will bring me on board that
Covenant."

48 KIDNAPPED.

He seemed to waken from a dream. " Eh ? " he
said. "What's that?"

I told him over again.

"Well, well," he said, ''we'll have to please ye, I
suppose. But what are we standing here for ? It's
perishing cold : and if I'm no mistaken, they're busk-
ing the Covenant for sea."

CHAPTER VI.

WHAT BEFELL AT THE QUEEN'S FERRY.

As soon as we came to the inn, Ransome led us up
the stair to a small room, with a bed in it, and heated
like an oven by a great fire of coal. At a table hard by
the chimney, a tall, dark, sober-looking man sat writ-
ing. In spite of the heat of the room, he wore a thick
sea-Jacket, buttoned to the neck, and a tall hairy cap
drawn down over his cars ; yet I never saw any man, not
even a Judge upon the bench, look cooler, or more stu-
dious and self-possessed, than this ship captain.

He got to his feet at once, and coming forward,
offered his large hand to Ebenezer. ''I am proud to
see you, Mr. Balfour," said he, in a fine deep voice,
"and glad that ye are here in time. The wind's fair,
and the tide upon the turn : we'll see the old coal-
bucket burning on Che Isle of May before to-night."

''Captain Hoseason," returned my uncle, "you keep
your room unco' hot."

"It's a habit I have, Mr. Balfour," said the skipper.
"I'm a cold-rife man by my nature; I have a cold
blood, sir. There's neither fur, nor flannel — no, sir,
nor hot rum, will warm up what they call the tempera-

50 KIDNAPPED.

ture. Sir, it's the same with most mea that have been
carbonadoed, as they call it, in the tropic seas."

"Well, well, captain," replied my uncle, "we must
all be the way we're made."

But it chanced that this fancy of the captain's had a
great sliare in my misfortunes. For though I had
promised myself not to let my kinsman out of sight, I
was both so imjiatient for a nearer look of the sea, and
so sickened by the closeness of the room, that when he
told me to "run down-stairs and play myself awhile," I
was fool enough to take him at his word.

Away I went, therefore, leaving the two men sitting
down to a bottle and a great mass of papers ; and cross-
ing the road in front of the inn, walked down upon the
beach. With the wind in that quarter, only little
wavelets, not much bigger than I had seen upon a lake,
beat upon the shore. But the weeds were new to me—
some green, some brown and long, and some with little
bladders that crackled between my fingers. Even so far
up the firth, the smell of the sea water was exceeding
salt and stirring ; the Covenant, besides, was beginning
to shake out her sails, which hung upon the yards in
clusters ; and the spirit of all that I beheld put me in
thoughts of far voyages and foreign places.

I looked, too, at the seamen with the skiff — big
brown fellows, some in shirts, some with jackets, some
Avith coloured handkerchiefs about their throats, one
with a brace of pistols stuck into his pockets, two or

KIDNAPPED. 51

three with knotty bludgeons, and all with their case-
knives. I passed the time of day with one tliat looked
less desperate than his fellows, and asked him of the
sailing of the brig. lie said they would get under wny
as soon as the ebb set, and expressed his gladness to be
out of a port where there were no taverns and fiddlers ;
but all with such horrifying oaths, that I made haste to
get away from him.

This threw me back on Eansome, who seemed the
least wicked of that gang, and who soon came out of the
inn and ran to me, crying for a bowl of punch. I told
him 1 would give him no such thing, for neither he nor
I was of age for such indulgences. "But a glass of
ale you may have, and welcome," said I. He mopped
and mowed at me, and culled me names ; but he was
glad to get the ale, for all that ; and presently wc were
set down at a table in the front room of the inn, and
both eating and drinking with a good appetite.

Here it occurred to me that, as the landlord was a
man of that country, I might do well to make a friend
of him. I offered him a share, as was much the custom
in these days ; but he was far too great a man to sit with
such poor customers as Eansome and myself, and he was
leaving the room, when I called him back to ask if he
knew Mr. Eankeillor.

" Hoot, ay," says he, ** and a very honest man. And,
0, by-the-bye," says he, " was it you that came in with
Ebenezer ? " And when I had told him yes, " Ye'll be

52 KIDNAPPED.

no friend of his ? "' he asked, meaning, in the Scotch
way, that I would be no relative.

I told him no, none.

" I thought not," said he ; " and yet ye have a kind
of gliff * of Mr. Alexander."

I said it seemed that Ebenezer was ill-seen in the
country.

"Nae doubt," said the landlord. "He's a wicked
auld man, and there's many Avould like to see himgirn-
ning in a tow : f Jennet Clouston and mony mair that
he has harried out of house and hame. And yet he was
ance a fine young fellow, too. But that was before the
sough I gaed abroad about Mr. Alexander ; that was
like the death of him."

" And what was it ?" I asked.

"Ou, just that he had killed him," said the land-
lord. " Did ye never hear that ? "

"And what would he kill him for ? " said I.

" And what for, but Just to get the place,"' said he.

" The place ? " said I. " The Shaws ? "

"Nae other place that I ken," said he.

"Ay, man ?" said I. "Is that so ? Was my — was
Alexander the eldest son ? "

"'Deed was he," said the landlord. "What else
would he have killed him for ? "

And with that he went away, as he had been im-
patient to do from the beginning.

* Look. t Rope. X Report.

KIDNAPPED. 53

Of course, I had guessed it a long while ago ; but
it is one thing to guess, another to know ; and I sat
stunned with my good fortune, and could scarce grow
to believe that the same poor lad who had trudged in
the dust from Ettrick Forest not two days ago, was now
one of the ricli of the earth, and had a house and broad
lands, and if he but knew how to ride, might mount
his horse to-morrow. All these pleasant things, and a
thousand others, crowded into my mind, as I sat staring
before me out of the inn window, and paying no heed
to what I saw ; only I i-emember that my eye lighted
on Captain Hoseason down on the pier among his seamen,
and speaking with some authority. And presently he
came marching back towards the house, with no mark
of a sailor's clumsiness, but carrying his fine, tall figure
with a manly bearing, and still with the same sober,
grave expression on his face. I wondered if it was
possible that Ransome's stories could be true, and half
disbelieved them ; they fitted so ill with the man's
looks. But indeed, he was neither so good as I sup-
posed him, nor quite so bad as Ransome did ; for, in
fact, he was two men, and left the better one behind as
soon as he set foot on board his vessel.

The next thing, I heard my uncle calling me, and
found the pair in the road together. It was the captain
who addressed me, and that with an air (very flattering
to a young lad) of grave equality.

"Sir," said he, "Mr. Balfour tells me great things

54 KIDNAPPED.

of you ; und for my own part, I like your looks. I
wish I was for longer here, that we might make the
better friends ; but we'll make the most of what we
have. Ye shall come on board my brig for half-an-hour,
till the ebb sets, and drink a bowl with me."'

Now, I longed to see the inside of a ship more than
words can tell ; but I was not going to put myself in
jeopardy, and I told him my uncle and I had an ap-
pointment with a lawyer.

"Ay, ay," said he, "he passed me word of that.
But, ye see, the boat'll set ye ashore at the town pier, and
that's but a penny stonecast from Rankeillor's house."
And here he suddenly leaned down* and whispered in my
ear : "Take care of the old tod ;* he means mischief.
Come aboard till I can get a word with ye. " And then,
passing his arm through mine, he continued aload, as ho
set off towards his boat : " But come, what can I bring
ye from the Carolinas ? Any friend of Mr. Balfour's
can command. A roll of tobacco ? Indian featherwork ?
A skin of a wild beast ? a stone pipe ? the mocking-bird
that mews for all the world like a cat ? the cardinal bird
that is as red as blood ? — take your pick and say your
})leasure."

By this time we were at the boat-side, and he was
handing me in. I did not dream of hanging back ; I
thought (the poor fool ! ) that I had found a good friend
and helper, and I was rejoiced to see the ship. As soon

KIDNAPPED. 66

as we were all set in our places, the boat was thrust off
from the pier and began to move over the waters ; and
what'with my pleasure in this new movement and my
surprise at our low position, and the appearance of the
shores, and the growing bigness of the brig as we drew
near to it, I could hardly understand what the captain
said, and must have answered him at random.

As soon as we were alongside (where I sat fairly
gaping at the ship's height, the strong humming of the
tide against its sides, and the pleasant cries of the sea-
men at their work) Hoseason, declaring that he and I
must be the first aboard, ordered a tackle to be sent
down from the main-yard. In this I was whipped into
the air and set down again on the deck, where the
captain stood ready waiting for me, and instantly slipped
back his arm under mine. There I stood some while, a
little dizzy with the unsteadiness of all around me,
perhaps a little afraid, and yet vastly pleased with these
strange sights ; the captain meanwhile pointing out the
strangest, and telling me their names and uses.

" But where is my uncle ? " said I, suddenly.

"Ay," said Hoseason, with a sudden grimness,
*' that's the point."

I felt I was lost. With all my strength, I plucked
myself clear of him and ran to the bulwarks. Sure
enough, there was the boat pulling for the town, with
my uncle sitting in the stern. I gave a piercing cry —
*'Help, lielp ! Murder!" — so that both sides of the

56 KIDNAPPED.

anchorage rang with it, and my uncle turned round
where he was sitting, and showed me a face full of
cruelty and terror.

It was the last I saw. Already strong hands had
been plucking me back from the shiji's side ; and now a
thunderbolt seemed to strike me ; I saw a great flash of
fire, and fell senseless.

CHAPTER VII.

I GO TO SEA IN THE BRIG "COVENANT" OF DYSART.

I CAME to myself in darkness, in great pain, bound
hand and foot, and deafened by many unfamiliar noises.
There sounded in my cars a roaring of water as of
a huge mill-dam ; the thrashing of heavy sjjrays, the
thundering of the sails, and the shrill cries of seamen.
The whole world now heaved giddily up, and now
ruslied giddily downward ; and so sick and hurt was I
in body, and my mind so much confounded, that it
took me a long while, chasing my thoughts up and
down, and ever stunned again by a fresh stab of pain, to
realise that I must be lying somewhere bound in the
l)elly of that unlucky ship, and that the wind must have
strengthened to a gale. With the clear perception of
my plight, there fell upon me a blackness of despair, a
horror of remorse at my own folly, and a passion of an-
ger at my uncle, that once more bereft me of my
senses.

When I returned again to life, the same uproar, the
same confused and violent movements, shook and deaf-
ened me ; and presently, to my other pains and dis-
tresses, there was added tiie sickness of an unused lands-

58 KIDNAPPED.

man on the sea. In that time of my adventnrons youth,
I suffered many hardships ; but none that was so crush-
ing to my mind and body, or lit by so few hopes, as
these first hours on board the brig.

I heard a gun fire, and supposed the storm had proved
too strong for us, and we were firing signals of distress.
The thought of deliverance, even by death in the deep
sea, was welcome to me. Yet it was no such matter ;
but (as I was afterwards told) a common habit of the
captain's, which I here set down to show that even the
worst man may have his kindlier sides. We were then
passing, it appeared, within some miles of Dysait,
where the brig was built, and where old Mrs. Hoseason,
the captain's mother, had come some years before to
live ; and whether outward or inward bound, the Cove-
nant was never suffered to go by that place by day
without a gun fired and colours shown.

I luid no measure of time ; day and night were alike
in that ill-smelling cavern of the ship's bowels where I
lay ; and the misery of my situation drew out the hours
to double. How long, therefore, I lay waiting to hear
the ship split upon some rock, or to feel her reel head
foremost into the depths of the sea, I have not the
means of computation. But sleep at length stole from
me the consciousness of sorrow.

I was wakened by tlie light of a hand-lantern shining
in my face. A small man of about thirty, with green
eyes and a tansle of fair hair, stood looking down at me.

KIDNTAPPEl). 59

*' Well," sairl he, "how goes it ?''

I answered by a sob ; and my visitor then felt my
pulse and temples, and set himself to wash and dress
the wound upon my scalp.

"Ay," said he, "a sore dunt.* What, man ? Cheer
up ! The world's no done ; you've made a bad start of
it, but you'll make a better. Have you had any meat ? "

I said I could not look at it ; and thereupon he gave
me some brandy and water in a tin pannikin, and left
me once more to myself.

The next time he came to see me, I was lying be-
twixt sleep and waking, my eyes wide open in the
darkness, the sickness quite departed, but succeeded by
a horrid giddiness and swimming that was almost worse
to bear. I ached, besides, in every limb, and the cords
that bound me seemed to be of fire. The smell of the
hole in which I lay seemed to have become a part of
me ; and during the long interval since his last visit, I
had suffered tortures of fear, now from the scurrying of
the ship's rats that sometimes pattered on my very face,
and now from the dismal imaginings that haunt the
bed of fever.

The glimmer of the lantern, as a trap opened, shone
in like the heaven's sunlight ; and though it only
showed me the strong, dark beams of the ship that was
ray prison, I could have cried aloud for gladness. The
man with the green eyes was the first to descend the

* Stroke.

60 KIDNAPPED,

ladder, and I noticed that he came somewhat unsteadily.
He was followed by the captain. Neither said a word ;
but the first set to and examined me, and dressed my
wound as before, while Hoseason looked me in my face
with an odd, black look.

''Now, sir, you see for yourself," said the first: "a
high fever, no appetite, no light, no meat : you see for
yourself what that means."

"I am no conjurer, Mr. Riach," said the captain.

"Give me leave, sir," said Riach; "you've a good
head upon your shoulders, and a good Scotch tongue to
ask with ; but I will leave you no manner of excuse :
I want that boy taken out of this hole and put in the
forecastle,"

"What ye may want, sir, is a matter of concern to
nobody but yoursel'," returned the captain ; " but I can
tell ye that which is to be. Here he is : here he shall
bide,"

"Admitting that you have been paid in a propor-
tion," said the other, "I will crave leave humbly to
say that I have not. Paid I am, and none too much,
to be the second officer of this old tub ; and you ken
very well if I do my best to earn it. But I was paid
for nothing more."

"If ye could hold back your hand from the tin-pan,
Mr. Riach, I would have no complaint to make of ye,"
returned the skipper ; "and instead of asking riddles, I
make bold to say that ye would keep your breath to

KIDNAPPED. 61

cool your porridge. We'll be required on deck," he
added, in a sharper note, and set one foot upon the
ladder.

But Mr. Riach caught him by the sleeve.

'"Admitting that you have been paid to do a
murder " he began.

lioseason turned upon him with a flash.

"AVhat's that?" he cried. *' What kind of talk is
that ? "

'* It seems it is the talk that you can understand,"
said Mr. Riach, looking Jiim steadily in the face.

"Mr. Riach, I have sailed with ye three cruises,"
replied the captain. " In all that time, sir, ye should
have learned to know me : I'm a stiff man, and a dour
man ; but for what ye say the now — fy, fy I — it comes
from a bad heart and a black conscience. If ye say the
lad will die "

"Ay, will he !" said Mr. Riach.

"Well, sir, is not that enough?"' said Hoseason.
" Flit him where you please !"

Thereupon the captain ascended tlie ladder ; and I,
who had lain silent throughout this strange conversa-
tion, beheld Mr. Riach turn after him and bow as low
as to his knees in what was plainly a spirit of derision.
Even in my then state of sickness, I perceived two
things : that the mate was touched with liquor, as the
captain hinted, and that (drunk or sober) he was like to
prove a valuable friend.

62 KIDNAPPED.

Five minutes afterwards my bonds were cut, I was
hoisted on a man's back, carried up to the forecastle,
and laid in a bunk on some sea-blankets ; where the first
thing that I did was to lose my senses.

It was a blessed thing indeed to open my eyes again
upon the daylight, and to find myself in the society of
men. The forecastle was a roomy place enough, set all
about with berths, in which the men of the watch below
were seated smoking, or lying down asleep. The day
being calm and the wind fair, the scuttle was open, and
not only the good daylight, but from time to time (as
the ship rolled) a dusty beam of sunlight shone in, and
dazzled and delighted me. I had no sooner moved,
moreover, than one of the men brought me a drink of
something healing which Mr. Riach had prepared, and
bade me lie still and I should soon be Avell again.
There were no bones broken, he exclaimed : "A clour*
on the head was naething. Man," said he, " it was me
that gave it ye ! "

Here I lay for the space of many days a close
prisoner, and not only got my health again, but came to
know my companions. They were a rough lot indeed,
as sailors mostly arc ; being men rooted out of all the
kindly parts of life, and condemned to toss together on
the rough seas, with masters no less cruel. There were
some among them that had sailed with the pirates and
seen things it would be a shame even to speak of : some
* Blow.

KIDNAPPED. 63

were men that had run from tlie king's shijjs, and went
with a halter round their necks, of which they made no
secret ; and all, as tlie saying goes, were " at a word and
a blow" with their best friends. Yet I had not been
many days shut up with them before I began to be
ashamed of my first judgment, when I had drawn away
from them at the Ferry pier, as thougli they had been
unclean beasts. No class of man is altogether bad ; but
each lias its own faults and virtues ; and these shipmates
of mine were no exception to the rule. Eough they
were, sure enough ; and bad, I suppose ; but they had
many virtues. They were kind when it occurred to
them, simple even beyond the simplicity of a country
lad like me, and had some glimmerings of honesty.

There was one man of maybe forty, that would sit on
my berthside for hours, and tell me of his wife and
child. He was a fisher that had lost his boat, and thus
been driven to the deep-sea voyaging. Well, it is years
ago now ; but I have never forgotten him. His wife
(who was " young by him," as he often told me) waited
in vain to see her man return ; he would never again
make the fire for her in the morning, nor yet keep the
bairn when she was sick. Indeed, many of these poor
fellows (as the event proved) were upon their last cruise;
the deep seas and cannibal fish received them ; and it is
a thankless business to speak ill of the dead.

Among other good deeds that they did, they returned
my money which had been shared among them ; and

64 KIDNAPPED.

though it was about ii third short, I Avas very glad to
get it, and hoped great good from it in tlie land I was
going to. The ship was bound for the Carolinas ; and
you must not suppose that I was going to that place
merely as an exile. The trade was even then much de-
pressed ; since that, and with the rebellion of the colo-
nics and the formation of the United States, it has, of
course, come to an end ; but in these days of my youth,
white men were still sold into slavery on the plantations,
and that Avas the destiny to which my wicked uncle had
condemned me.

The cabin-boy Eansome (from whom I had first
heard of these atrocities) came in at times from the
round-house, where he berthed and served, now nursing
a bruised limb in silent agony, now raving against the
cruelty of Mr. Sliuan. It made my heart bleed ; but
the men had a great respect for the chief mate, who was,
as they said, "the only seaman of the Avhole jing-bang,
and none such a bad man when he was sober." Indeed,
I found there was a strange peculiarity about our two
mates : that Mr. Kiach was sullen, unkind, and harsh
when he was sober, and Mr. Shuan would not hurt a
fly except Avhen he was drinking. I asked about the
captain ; but I Avas told drink made no difference upon
that man of iron.

I did my best in the small time alloAved me to make
something like a man, or rather I should say something
like a boy, of the poor creature, Ransome. But his mind

KIDNAPPED. 65

was scarce truly human. He could remember nothing
of the time before he came to sea ; only that his father
had made clocks, and had a starling in the parlour, which
could whistle " The North Countrie ; " all else had been
blotted out in these years of hardship and cruelties. He
had a strange notion of the dry land, picked up from
sailors' stories : that it was a place where lads were put
to some kind of slavery called a trade, and where appren-
tices were continually lashed and clapped into foul
prisons. In a town, he thought every second person a
decoy, and every third liouse a place in which seamen
would be di-ugged and murdered. To be sure, I could
tell him how kindly I had myself been used upon that
dry land he was so much afraid of, and how well fed
and carefully taught both by my friends and my
parents : and if he had been recently hurt, he would
weep bitterly and swear to i-un away ; but if he was in
his usual crackbrain humour or (still more) if he had
had a glass of spirits in the round-house, he would
deride the notion.

It was Mr. Riach (Heaven forgive him !) who gave
the boy drink ; and it was, doubtless, kindly meant ; but
besides that it was ruin to his health ; it was the
pitifullest thing in life to see this unhappy, unfriended
creature staggering, and dancing, and talking he knew
not what. Some of the men laughed, but not all ; others
would grow as black as thunder (thinking, perhaps, of
their own childhood or their own children) and bid him

66 KIDNAPPED.

stop that nonsense, and think what he was doing. As
for me, I felt ashamed to look at him, and the poor
child still comes about me in my dreams.

All this time, you should know, the Covenant was
meeting continual head-winds and tumbling up and
down against head-seas, so that the scuttle was almost
constantly shut, and the forecastle lighted only by a
swinging lantern on a beam. There was constant labour
for all hands ; the sails had to be made and shortened
every hour ; the strain told on the men's temper ;
there was a growl of quarrelling all day long from berth
to berth ; and as I was never allowed to set my foot on
deck, you can picture to yourselves how weary of my
life I grew to be, and how impatient for a change.

And a change I was to get, as you shall hear ; but
I must first tell of a conversation I had with Mr. Riach,
which put a little heart in me to bear my troubles.
Getting him in a favourable stage of drink (for indeed
he never looked near me when he was sober) I pledged
him to secrecy, and told him my whole story.

He declared it was like a ballad ; that he would do
his best to help me ; that I sliould have paper, pen, and
ink, and write one line to Mr. Campbell and another to
Mr. Rankeillor ; and that if I had told the truth, ten
to one he would be able (with their help) to pull me
through and set me in my rights.

"And in the meantime," says he, "keep your heart
up. You're not the only one, I'll tell you that. There's

KIDNAPPED. 67

many a man hoeing tobacco over-seas that sliould be
mounting his horse at his own door at home ; many and
many ! And life is all a variorum, at tlie best. Look
at me : I'm a laird's son and more than half a doctor,
and here I am, man- Jack to Hoseason ! "

I thought it would be civil to ask him for his story.

He whistled loud.

" Never had one," said he. " I liked fun, that's all."
And he skipped out of the foi-ecastle.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE KOUKD-HOUSE,

One night, about nine o'clocic, a man of Mr. Riach's
watch (which was on deck) came down for his Jacket ;
and instantly there began to go a whisper about the
forecastle that " Shuan had done for him at last." There
was no need of a name ; we all knew who was meant ;
but we had scarce time to get the idea rightly in our
heads, far less to speak of it, when the scuttle was
again flung open, and Captaiu Iloseason came down the
ladder. He looked sharply round the bunks in the toss-
ing light of the lantern ; and then, walking straight up
to me, he addressed me, to my surprise, in tones of
kindness.

"My man," said he, "we want ye to serve in the
round-house. You and Ransome are to change berths.
Run away aft with ye."

Even as he spoke, two seamen appeared in the
scuttle, carrying Ransome in their arms ; and the ship
at that moment giving a great sheer into the sea, and
the lantern swinging, the light fell direct on the boy's
face. It was as white as wax, and had a look upon it
like a dreadful smile. The blood in me ran cold, and I
drew in my breath as if I had been struck.

KIDNAPPED. by

"Run away aft; run away aft with ye!" cried
Hoseason.

And at that I brushed by the sailors and the boy
(who neither spoke nor moved) and ran up the ladder
on deck.

The brig was sheering swiftly and giddily through a
long, cresting swell. She was on the starboard tack,
and on the left hand, nnder the arched foot of the fore-
sail, I could see the sunset still quite bright. This, at
such an hour of the night, surprised nic greatly ; but I
was too ignorant to draw the true conclusion — that we
were going north-about round Scotland, and were now
on the high sea between the Orkney and the Shetland
Islands, having avoided the dangerous currents of the
Pentland Firth. For my part, who had been so long
shut in the dark and knew nothing of head-winds, I
thought we might be half-way or more across the
Atlantic. And indeed (beyond that I wondered a little
at the lateness of the sunset light) I gave no heed to it,
and pushed on across the decks, running between the
seas, catching at ropes, and only saved from going over-
board by one of the hands on deck, who had been always
kind to me.

The round-house, for which I was bound and where
I was now to sleep and serve, stood some six feet above
the decks, and considering the size of the brig, was of
good dimensions. Inside were a fixed table and bench,
and two berths, one for the captain and the other for the

70 KIDNAPPED.

two mates, turn and turn about. It was all fitted with
lockers from top to bottom, so as to stow away the
officers' belongings and a part of the ship's stores ; there
was a second store-room underneath, which you entered
by a hatchway in the middle of the deck ; indeed, all
the best of the meat and drink and the whole of the
powder were collected in this place ; and all the fire-
arms, except the two pieces of brass ordnance, were set
in a rack in the aftermost wall of the round-house.
The most of the cutlasses were in another place.

A small window with a shutter on each side, and a
skylight in the roof, gave it light by day ; and after
dark, there was a lamp always burning. It was burn-
ing when I entered, not brightly, but enough to show
Mr. Shuan sitting at the table, with the brandy bottle
and a tin pannikin in front of him. He was a tall man,
strongly made and very black ; and he stared before him
on the table like one stupid.

He took no notice of my coming in ; nor did he move
when the captain followed and leant on the berth beside
me, looking darkly at the mate. I stood in great fear of
Hoseason, and had my reasons for it ; but something
told me I need not be afraid of him just then ; and I
whispered in his ear, " How is he ? " He shook his
head like one that does not know and does not wish to
think, and his face was very stern.

Presently Mr. Kiach came in. He gave the captain
a glance that meant the bov was dead as plain as speak-

KIDNAPPED. 71

ing, and took his place like the rest of us ; so that we
all three stood without a word, staring down at Mr,
Shuan, and Mr. Shuan (on his side) sat without a word,
looking hard upon the table.

All of a sudden he put out his hand to take the
bottle ; and at that Mr. Riach started forward and
caught it away from him, rather by surprise than
violence, crying out, witli an oath, that there had been
too much of this work altogether, and that a Judgment
would fall upon the ship. And as he spoke (the weather
sliding-doors standing open) he tossed the bottle into the
sea.

Mr. Shuan was on his feet in a trice ; he still looked
dazed, but he meant murder, ay, and would have done
it, for the second time that night, had not the captain
stepped in between him and his victim.

" Sit down ! " roars the captain. " Ye sot and swine,
do ye know what ye've done ? Ye've murdered the
boy!"

Mr. Shuan seemed to understand ; for he sat down
again and put up his hand to his brow.

"Well," he said, "he brought me a dirty panni-
kin!"

At that word, the captain and I and Mr. Riach all
looked at each other for a second with a kind of fright-
ened look ; and then Hoseason walked up to his chief
officer, took him by the shoulder, led him across to his
bunk, and bade him lie down and go to sleep, as you

72 KIDNAPPED.

might speak to a bad child. The murderer cried a lit-
tle, but he took off his sea-boots and obeyed,

"Ah !" cried Mr. Riach, with a dreadful voice, "ye
should have interfered long syne. It's too late now."

"Mr. Riach," said the captain, "this night's work
must never be kennt in Dysart. The boy went over-
board, sir ; that's what the story is ; and I would give
five pounds out of my pocket it was true ! " He turned
to the table. "What made ye throw the good bottle
away ?" he added. "There was nae sense in that, sir.
Here, David, draw me another. They're in the bottom
locker ; " and he tossed me a key. " Ye'll need a glass
yourself, sir," he added, to Riach. "Yon was an ugly
thing to see."

So the pair sat down and hob-a-nobbed ; and while
they did so, the murderer, who had been lying and
whimpering in his berth, raised himself upon his elbow
and looked at them and at me.

That was the first night of my new duties ; and in
the course of the next day I had got well into the run
of them. I had to sei've at the meals, which the cap-
tain took at regular hours, sitting down with the officer
who was off duty ; all the day through I would be run-
ning with a dram to one or other of my three masters ;
and at night I slept on a blanket thrown on the deck
boards at the aftermost end of the round-house, and
right in the draught of the two doors. It was a hard and
a cold bed ; nor was I suffered to sleep without inter-

KIDNAPPED. 73

ruption ; for some one would be always coming in from
deck to get a dram, and when a fresh watch was to be
set, two and sometimes all three would sit down and
brew a bowl together. How they kept their health, I
know not, any more than how I kept my own.

And yet in other ways it was an easy service. There
was no cloth to lay ; the meals were either of oatmeal
porridge or salt junk, except twice a week, when there
was duff : and though I was clumsy enough and (not
being firm on my sea-logs) sometimes fell with what I
was bringing them, both Mr. Riach and the captain
were singularly patient. I could not but fancy they
were making up lee-way with their consciences, and
that they would scarce have been so good with me, if
they had not been worse with Ransome.

As for Mr. Shuan, the drink, or his crime, or the two
together, had certainly troubled his mind. I cannot
say I ever saw him in his proper wits. He never grew
used to my being there, stared at me continually (some-
times, I could have thought, with terror) and more
than once drew back from my hand when I was serving
him. I was pretty sure from the first that he had no
clear mind of what he had done, and on my second day
in the round-house I had the proof of it. We were
alone, and he had been staring at me a long time, when,
all at once, up he got, as pale as death, and came close
up to me, to my great terror. But I had no cause to be
afraid of him.

74 KIDNAPPED.

" You were not here before ? " he asked,

"No, sir," said I.

"There was another boy?" he asked again; and
when r had answered him, "Ah !" says he, "I thought
that," and went and sat down, without another word,
except to call for brandy.

Yon may think it strange, but for all the horror I
had, I was still sorry for him, He was a married man,
with a wife in Leith : but whether or no he had a
family, I have now forgotten ; I hope not.

Altogether it was no very hard life for the time it
lasted, which, (as you are to hear) was not long. I was
as well fed as the best of them ; even their pickles,
which were 'the great dainty, I was allowed my share
of ; and had I liked, I might have been drunk from
morning to night, like Mr. Shuan. I had company,
too, and good company of its sort. Mr. Riach, who
had been to the college, spoke to me like a friend when
he Avas not sulking, and told me many curious things,
and some that were informing ; and even the captain,
though he kept me at the stick's end the most part of
the time, would sometimes unbuckle a bit, and tell me
of the fine countries he had visited.

The shadow of poor Eansome, to be sure, lay on all
four of us, and on me and Mr. Shuan, in particular,
most heavily. And then I had another trouble of my
own. Here I was, doing dirty work for three men that
I looked down i;pon, and one of whom, at least, should

KIDNAPPED. 75

have hung npon a gallows; that was for the present;
and as for the future, I could only see myself slaving
alongside of negroes in the tobacco fields. Mr. Kiach,
perhaps from caution, would never suffer me to say
another word about my story ; the captain, whom I
tried to approach, rebuffed me like a dog and would not
hear a word ; and as the days came and went, my heart
sank lower and lower, till I was even glad of the work,
Avhich kept me from thinking.

CHAPTEE IX.

THE MAN WITH THE BELT OF GOLD.

MoEE than a week went by, in which the ill-hick that
had hitherto pursued the Covenant upon this voyage
grew yet more strongly marked. Some days she made
a little Avay ; others, she was driven actually back. At
last we were beaten so far to the south that we tossed
and tacked to and fro the whole of the ninth day, within
sight of Cape Wrath and the wild, rocky coast on
either hand of it. There followed on that a council of
the officers, and some decision which I did not rightly
understand, seeing only the result : that we had made a
fair wind of a foul one and were running south.

The tenth afternoon, there was a falling swell and a
thick, wet, white fog that hid one end of the brig from
the other. All afternoon, when I went on deck, I saw
men and oflBcers listening hard over the bulwarks — "for
breakers," they said ; and though I did not so much ns
understand the word, I felt danger in the air and was
excited.

Maybe about ten at night, I was serving Mr. Riach
and the captain at their supper, when the ship struck
something with a great sound, and we heard voices
singing out. My two masters leaped to their feet.

KIDNAPPED. 77

'' She's struck," said Mr. Riach.

"No, sir," said the captain. "We've only run a
boat down."

And they hurried out.

The captain was in the right of it. We had run
down a boat in the fog, and she had parted in the midst
and gone to the bottom with all her crew, but one.
This man (as I heard afterwards) had been sitting in
the stern as a passenger, while the rest were on the
benches rowing. At the moment of the blow, the stern
had been thrown into the air, and the man (having his
hands free, and for all he was encumbered with a frieze
overcoat that came below his knees) had leaped up and
caught hold of the brig's bowsprit. It showed he had
luck and much agility and unusual strength, that he
should have thus saved himself from such a pass. And
yet, when the captain brought him into the round-
house, and I set eyes on him for the first time, he
looked as cool as I did.

He was smallish in stature, but well set and as
nimble as a goat ; his face was of a good open expres-
sion, but sunburnt very dark, and heavily freckled and
pitted with the small-pox ; his eyes were unusually
light and had a kind of dancing madness in them, that
was both engaging and alarming ; and when he took off
his great-coat, he laid a pair of fine, silver-mounted
jiistols on the table, and I saw that he was belted with
a great sword. His numners, besides, were elegant, and

78 KIDNAPPED.

he pledged the captain handsomely. Altogether I
thought of him, at the first sight, that here was a man
I woald rather call my friend than my enemy.

The captain, too, was taking his observations, but
rather of the man's clothes than his person. And to
be sure, as soon as he iiad taken off the great-coat, he
showed forth mighty fine for the round-house of a
merchant brig : having a hat with feathers, a red waist-
coat, breeches of black plush, and a blue coat with sil-
ver buttons and handsome silver lace : costly clothes,
though somewhat spoiled witli the fog and being slept
in.

" I'm vexed, sir, about the boat," says the captain.

"There are some pretty men gone to the bottom,"
said the stranger, " that I would rather see on the dry
land again than half a score of boats."

" Friends of yours ? " said Hoseason.

" You liave none such friends in your country,"
was the reply. " They would have died for me like
dogs."

" Well, sir," said the captain, still watching him,
" there are more men in the woild than boats to put
them in."

"And that's true too," cried the other; "and ye
seem to be a gentleman of great penetration."

" I have been in France, sir," says the captain ; so
that it was plain he meant more by the words than
showed upon the face of them.

KIDNAPPED. 79

" Well, sir," says the other, " and so has many a
pretty man, for the matter of that.''

"No doubt, sh-," says the captain ; "and fine
coats. "

" Oho ! " says the stranger, " is that how the wind
sets ? " And he laid his hand quickly on his pistols.

" Don't be hasty," said the captain. '' Don't do a
mischief, before ye see the need for it. Ye've a French
soldier's coat upon your back and a Scotch tongue in
your head, to be sure ; but so has many an honest
fellow in these days, and I daresay none the worse of it."

"So?" said the gentleman in the fine coat: "are
ye of the honest party ? " (meaning. Was he a Jacobite ?
for each side, in these sort of civil broils, takes the
name of honesty for its own).

" Why, sir," replied the captain, " I am a true-blue
Protestant, and I thank God for it." (It was the first
word of any religion I had ever heard from him, but I
learnt afterwards he was a great church-goer while on
shore.) " But, for all that," says he, "I can be sorry
to see another man with his back to the wall."

" Can ye so, indeed ? " asks the Jacobite. " Well, sir,
to be quite plain with ye, I am one of those honest
gentlemen that were in trouble about the years forty-five
and six ; and (to be still qiiite plain with ye) if I get
into the hands of any of the red-coated gentry, it's like
it would go hard with me. Now, sir, I was for France;
and there was a French ship cruising here to pick me

80 KIDNAPPED.

up ; but she gave us the go-by in the fog — as I wish
from the heart that ye had done yoursel' ! And the
best that I can say is this : If ye can set me ashore
where I was going, I have that upon me will reward
you highly for your trouble."

"In France?" says the captain. "No, sir; that I
cannot do. But where ye come from — we might talk
of that. "

And then, unhappily, he observed me standing in my
corner, and packed me off to the galley to get supper
for the gentleman. I lost no time, I promise you ;
and when I came back into the round-house, I found
the gentleman had taken a money-belt from about
his waist, and poured out a guinea or two upon the
table. The captain was looking at the guineas, and
then at the belt, and then at the gentleman's face ; and
I thought he seemed excited.

" Half of it," he cried, " and I'm your man ! "

The other swept back the guineas into the belt, and
put it on again under his waistcoat. "I have told ye,
sir," said he, " that not one doit of it belongs to me.
It belongs to my chieftain " — and here he touched his
hat — "and while I would be but a silly messenger to
grudge some of it that the rest might come safe, I
should show myself a hound indeed if I bought my
own carcase any too dear. Thirty guineas on the sea-
side, or sixty if ye set me on the Linnhe Loch. Take it,
if ye will ; if not, ye can do your worst."

KIDNAPPED. 81

"Ay," said Hoseason. ''And if I give ye over to
the soldiers ? "

" Ye would make a fool's bargain," said the other.
"My chief, let me tell you, sir, is forfeited, like every
honest man in Scotland. His estate is in the hands of
the man they call King George ; and it is his officers
that collect the rents, or try to collect them. But for
the honour of Scotland, the poor tenant bodies take a
thought upon their chief lying in exile ; and this
money is a part of that very rent for which King George
is looking. Now, sir, ye seem to me to be a man that
understands things : bring this money within the reach
of Government, and how much of it '11 come to you ?"

"Little enough, to be sure," said Hoseason ; and
then, " If they knew," he added, dryly. " But 1 think,
if I was to try, that I could hold my tongue about it."

"Ah, but I'll begowk* ye there ! " cried the gentle-
man. " Play me false, and I'll play you cunning. If
a hand's laid upon me, they shall ken what money it is."

"Well," returned the captain, "what must be must.
Sixty guineas, and done. Here's my hand upon it."

"And here's mine," said the other.

And thereupon the captain went out (I'ather hur-
riedly, I thought), and left me alone in the round-house
with the stranger.

At that period (so soon after the forty-five) there
were many exiled gentlemen coming back at the peril of
* Befool.

82 KIDNAPPED,

their lives, either to see their friends or to collect a little
money ; and as for the Highland chiefs that had been
forfeited, it was a common matter of talk how their
tenants would stint themselves to send them money, and
their clansmen outface the soldiery to get it in, and run
the gauntlet of our great navy to carry it across. All
this I had, of course, heard tell of ; and now I had a
man under my eyes whose life was forfeit on all these
counts and upon one more ; for he was not only a rebel
and a smuggler of rents, but had taken service with
King Louis of France. And as if all this were not
enough, he had a belt full of golden guineas round his
loins. Whatever my opinions, I could not look on such
a man without a lively interest.

" And so you're a Jacobite ?" said I, as I set meat
before him.

"Ay," said he, beginning to eat. "And you, by
your long face, should be a Whig ? " *

" Betwixt and between," said I, not to annoy him ;
for indeed I was as good a Whig as Mr. Campbell could
make me.

"And that's naething," said he. "But I'm saying,
Mr. Betwixt-and-Between," he added, " this bottle of
yours is dry ; and it's hard if I'm to pay sixty guineas
and be grudged a dram upon the back of it."

* Whig or Whigamore was the cant name for those who were
loyal to King George.

KIDNAPPED. 83

" I'll go and ask for the key," said I and stepped on
deck.

The fog was as close as ever, but the swell almost
down. They had laid the brig to, not knowing precisely
where they were, and the wind (what little there was of
it) not serving well for their true course. Some of the
hands were still hearkening for breakers ; but the captain
and the two officers were in the waist with their heads
together. It struck me, I don't know wliy, that they
were after no good ; and the first word I heard, as I
drew softly near, more than confirmed me.

It was Mr. Riach, crying out as if upon a sudden
thought :

" Couldn't we wile him out of the round-house ? "

*' He's better where he is," returned Hoseason ; "he
hasn' room to use his sword."

"Well, that's true," said Riach ; "but he's hard to
come at."

" Hut !" said Hoseason. "We can get the man in
talk, one upon each side, and pin iiim by the two arms ;
or if that'll not hold, sir, we can make a run by both
the doors and get him under hand before he has the
time to draw."

At this hearing, I was seized with both fear and
anger at these treacherous, greedy, bloody men that I
sailed with. My first mind was to run away ; my second
was bolder.

" Captain," said I, " the gentleman is seeking a

84 KIDNAPPED.

dram, aiul the l)ottle's out. Will you give me the
key?"

They all started and turned about.

" Why, here's our chance to get the firearms ! " Riach
cried; and then to me : "Hark ye, David," he said,
" do ye ken where the pistols are ? "

" Ay, ay," put in Iloseason. "David kens ; David's
a good lad. Ye see, David my man, yon wild Hieland-
man is a danger to the ship, besides being a rank foe to
King George, God bless him ! "

I had never been so be-Davided since I came on
board ; but I said yes, as if all I heard were quite
natural.

"The trouble is," resumed the captain, "that all our
firelocks, great and little, are in the round-house under
this man's nose ; likewise the powder. Now, if I, or one
of the officers, was to go in and take them, he would fall
to thinking. But a lad like yon, David, might snap up
a horn and a pistol or two without remark. And if ye
can do it cleverly, I'll bear it in mind when it'll be good
for you to have friends ; and that's when we come to
Cal'olina."

Here Mr. Riach whispered him a little.

"Very right, sir," said the captain ; and then to
myself: "And see here, David, yon man has a beltful
of gold, and I give you my word that you shall have
your fingers in it."

I told him I would do as he wished, though indeed

KIDNAPPED. 85

I had scarce breath to speak with ; and upon that he
gave me the key of the spirit locker, and I began to go
slowly back to the round-house. What was I to do ?
They were dogs and thieves ; they had stolen me from
my own country; they had killed poor Ransome ; and
was I to hold the candle to another murder ? But then,
upon the other hand, there was the fear of death very
plain before me ; for what could a boy and a man, if
they were as brave as lions, against a whole ship's com-
pany ?

I was still arguing it back and forth, and getting no
great clearness, when I came into the round-house and
saw the Jacobite eating his supper under the lamp ; and
at that my mind was made up all in a moment. I have
no credit by it ; it was by no choice of mine, but as if
by compulsion, that I walked right up to the table and
put my hand on his shoulder.

" Do ye want to be killed ? " said I.

He sprang to his feet, and looked a question at me
as clear as if he had spoken.

"0 !" cried I, "they're all murderers here; it's a
ship full of them ! They've murdered a boy already.
Now it's you."

"Ay, ay," said he ; " but they haven't got me yet."
And then looking at me curiously, " Will ye stand with
me ?"

"That will I !" said I. "I am no thief, nor yet
murderer. I'll stand by you."

86 KIDNAPPED.

"Why, then," said he, "■ what's your name ?"

"David Balfour," said I ; and then thinking that a
man with so fine a coat must like fine people, I added
for the first time "of Shaws."

It never occurred to him to doubt me, for a High-
lander is used to see great gentlefolk in great poverty ;
but as he had no estate of his own, my words nettled
a very childish vanity he had.

"My name is Stewart," he said, drawing himself up.
"Alan Breck, they call me. A king's name is good
enough for me, though I bear it plain and have the
name of no farm-midden to clap to the hind-end of it."

And having administered this rebuke, as though it
were something of a chief importance, he turned to
examine our defences.

The round-house was built very strong, to support the
breachings of the seas. Of its five apertures, only the
skylight and the two doors were large enough for the
passage of a man. The doors, besides, could be drawn
close : they were of stout oak, and ran in grooves, and
were fitted with hooks to keep them either shut or open,
as the need arose. The one that was already shut, I
secured in this fashion ; but when I was proceeding to
slide to the other, Alan stopped me.

" David," said he — "for I cannae bring to mind the
name of your landed estate, and so will make so bold as
call you David — that door, being open, is the best part
of my defences."

KIDNAPPED. 87

" It would be yet better shut," says I.

"Not so, David," says he. ''Ye see, I have but one
face ; but so long as that door is open and my face to it,
the best part of my enemies will be in front of me,
where I would aye wish to find them."

Then he gave me from the rack a cutlass (of which
there were a few besides the firearms), choosing it with
great care, shaking his head and saying he had never in
all his life seen poorer weapons ; and next he set me
down to the table with a powder-horn, a bag of bullets,
and all the pistols, which he bade me charge.

"And that will be better work, let me tell you,"
said he, "for a gentleman of decent birth, than scrap-
ing plates and raxing * drams to a wheen tarry
sailors."

Thereupon he stood up in the midst with his face to
the door, and drawing his great sword, made trial of the
room he had to wield it in.

" I must stick to the point," he said, shaking his
head ; " and that's a pity, too. It doesn't set my genius,
which is all for the upper guard. And now," said he,
" do you keep on charging the pistols, and give heed to
me."

I told him I would listen closely. My chest was

tight, my mouth dry, the light dark to my eyes ; the

thought of the numbers that were soon to leap in upon

us kept my heart in a flutter ; and the sea, which I

* Reaching.

88 KIDNAPPED.

heard washing round the brig, and where I thouglit my
dead body would be cast ere morning, ran in my mind
strangely.

"First of all," said he, "how many are against us ?"

I reckoned them up ; and such was the hurry of my
mind, I had to cast the numbers twice. "Fifteen,"
said I.

Alan whistled. "Well," said he, "that can't be
cured. And now follow me. It is my part to keep
this door, where I look for the maiu battle. In that,
ye have no hand. And mind and dinnae fire to this
side unless they get me down ; for I would rather have
ten foes in front of me than one friend like you cracking
pistols at my back."

I told him, indeed I was no great shot.

"And that's very bravely said," he cried, in a great
admiration of my candour. "There's many a pretty
gentleman that wouldnae dare to say it."

"But then, sir," said I, "there is the door behind
you, which they may perhaps break in."

"Ay," said he, "and that is a part of your work.
No sooner the pistols charged, tlian ye must climb up
into yon bed where ye're handy at the window ; and if
they lift hand against the door, ye're to shoot. But
that's not all. Let's make a bit of a soldier of ye,
David. What else have ye to guard ? "

"There's the skylight," said L "But indeed, Mr.
Stewart, I would need to have eyes upon both sides to

KIDNAPPED. 89

keep the two of them ; for when my face is at the one,
my back is to the other."

*'And that's very true," said Akin. "But have ye
no ears to your head ? "

"To be sure !" cried I. "I must hear the bursting
of the glass ! "

'* Ye have some rudiments of sense," said Alan,
grimly.

CHAPTER X.

THE SIEGE OF THE KOUJSTD-HOUSB.

But now our time of truce was come to an end. Those
on deck had waited for my coming till they grew im-
patient ; and scarce had Alan spoken, when the captain
showed face in the open door.

"Stand !" cried Alan, and pointed his sword at him.

The captain stood, indeed ; but he neither winced
nor drew back a foot.

"A naked sword?" says he. "This is a strange
return for hospitality."

"Do you see me?" said Alan. "I am come of
kings ; I bear a king's name. My badge is the oak.
Do ye see my sword ? It has slashed the heads off mair
Whigamores than you have toes upon your feet. Call
up your vermin to your back, sir, and fall on ! The
sooner the clash begins, the sooner ye'll taste this steel
throughout your vitals."

The captain said nothing to Alan, but he looked
over at me with an ugly look. "David," said he, "I'll
mind this ; " and the sound of his voice went through
me with a jar.

KIDNAPPED. 91

Next moment he was gone.

"And now," said Alan, "let yonr hand keep your
head, foi- the grip is coming."

Alan drew a dirk, which he held in his left hand in
case they should run in under his sword. I, on my
part, clambered up into the berth with an armful of
pistols and something of a heavy heart, and set open
the window where I was to watch. It was a small part
of the deck that I could overlook, but enough for our
purpose. The sea had gone down, and the wind was
steady and kept the sails quiet ; so that there was a
great stillness in the ship, in which I made sure I heard
the sound of muttering voices. A little after, and there
came a clash of steel upon the deck, by which I knew
they were dealing out the cutlasses and one had been let
fall ; and after that silence again.

I do not know if I was what you call afraid ; but
my heart beat like a bird's, both quick and little ; and
there was a dimness came before my eyes which I con-
tinually rubbed away, and which continually returned.
As for hope, I had none ; but only a darkness of despair
and a sort of anger against all the world tliat made me
long to sell my life as dear as 1 was able. I tried to
pray, I remember, but that same hurry of my mind,
like a man running, would not suffer me to think upon
the words ; and my chief wish was to have the thing
begin and be done with it.

It came all of a sudden when it did, with a rush of

92 KIDNAPPED.

feet and a roar, and then a shout from Alan, and a
sound of blows and some one crying out as if hurt. I
looked back over my shoulder, and saw Mr. Shuan in
the doorway, crossing blades with Alan.

" That's him that killed the boy ! " I cried.

" Look to your window ! " said Alan ; and as I
turned back to my place, I saw him pass his sword
tlirough the mate's body.

It was none too soon for me to look to my own part ;
for my head was scarce back at the window before five
men, carrying a spare yard for a battering-ram, ran past
me and took post to drive the door in. I had never fired
with a pistol in my life, and not often with a gun ; far
less against a fellow-creature. But it was now or never ;
and just as they swang the yard, I cried out, "Take
that ! " and shot into their midst.

I must have hit one of them, for he sang out and
gave back a step, and the rest stopped as if a little dis-
concerted. Before they had time to recover, I sent
another ball over their heads ; and at my third shot
(which went as wide as the second) the whole party
threw down the yard and ran for it.

Then I looked round again into the deck-house. The
whole place was full of the smoke of my own firing, just
as my ears seemed to be burst with the noise of the
shots. But there was Alan, standing as before ; only
now his sword was running blood to the hilt, and him-
self so SAvelled with triumph and fallen into so fine an

KIDNAPPED. 93

attitude, that he looked to be invincible. Eight before
him on the floor was Mr. Shuan, on his hands and
knees ; the blood was pouring from his mouth, and he
was sinking slowly lower, with a terrible, white face ;
and just as I looked, some of those from behind caught
hold of him by the heels and dragged him bodily out of
the round-house. I believe he died as they were doing
it.

"There's one of your Whigs for ye!" cried Alan;
and then turning to me, he asked if I had done much
execution.

I told him I had winged one, and thought it was the
captain.

"And I've settled two," says he. " No, there's not
enough blood let ; they'll be back again. To your
watch, David. This was but a dram before meat."

I settled back to my place, recharging the three pistols
I had fired, and keeping watch with both eye and ear.

Our enemies were disputing not far off upon the
deck, and that so loudly that I could hear a word or
two above the washing of the seas.

"It was Shuan bauchled * it," I heard one say.

And another answered him with a "Wheesht, man!
He's paid the piper."

After that the voices fell again into the same mut-
tering as before. Only now, one person spoke most of
the time, as tliough laying down a plan, and first one
* Bungled.

94 KIDNAPPED.

and then another answered him briefly, like men taking
orders. By this, I made sure tliey were coming on
again, and told Alan.

"It's what we have to pray for," said he. "Unless
we can give them a good distaste of ns, and done with
it, there'll be nae sleep for either yon or me. But this
time, mind, they'll be in earnest."

By this, my pistols were ready, and there was
nothing to do but listen and wait. While the brush
lasted, I had not the time to think if I was frighted ;
but now, when all was still again, my mind ran upon
nothing else. The thought of the sharp swords and the
cold steel was strong m me ; and presently, when I
began to hear stealthy steps and a brushing of men's
clothes against the round-house wall, and knew they
were taking their places in the dark, I could have found
it in my mind to cry out aloud.

All this was upon Ahxn's side ; and I had begun to
think my shai-e of the fight was at an end, when I heard
some one drop softly on the roof above me.

Then thei'e came a single call on the sea-pipe, and
that was the signal. A knot of them made one rush of
it, cutlass in hand, against the door ; and at the same
moment, the glass of the skylight was dasbed in a
thousand pieces, and a man leaped through and landed
on the floor. Before he got his feet, I had clapped a
pistol to hi^ back, and might have shot him, too ; only
at the touch of him (and him alive) my whole flesh

KIDNAPPED. 95

misgave me, and I could no more pull the trigger than
I could have flown.

He had dropped his cutlass as he jumped, and when
he felt the pistol, whipped straight round and laid hold
of me, roaring out an oath ; and at that either my
courage came again, or I grew so much afraid as came to
the same thing ; for I gave a shriek and shot him in the
midst of the body. He gave the most horrible, ugly
groan and fell to the floor. The foot of a second fellow,
whose legs were dangling through the skylight, struck
me at the same time upon the head ; and at that I
snatched another pistol and shot this one through the
thigh, so that he slipped through and tumbled in a
lump on his companion's body. There was no talk of
missing, any more than there was time to aim ; I
clapped the muzzle to the very place and fired.

I might have stood and stared at them for long, but
I heard Alan shout as if for help, and that brought me
to my senses.

He had kejjt the door so long ; but one of the sea-
men, while he was engaged with others, had run in
under his guard and caught him about the body. Alan
was dirking him with his left hand, but the fellow clung
like a leech. Another had broken in and had his cutlass
raised. The door was thronged with their faces. I
thought we were lost, and catching up my cutlass, fell
on them in flank.

But I had not time to be of lielp. The wrestler

96 KIDNAPPED.

dropped at last ; and Alan, leaping back to get his dis-
tance, ran upon the others like a bull, roaring as he
went. They broke before him like water, turning, and
running, and falling one against another in their haste.
The sword in his hands flashed like quicksilver into the
huddle of our fleeing enemies ; and at every flash there
came the scream of a man hurt. I was still thinking
we were lost, when lo ! they were all gone, and Alan
Avas driving them along the deck as a sheepdog chases
sheep.

Yet he was no sooner out than he was back again,
being as cautious as he was brave ; and meanwhile the
seamen continued running and crying out as if he was
still behind them ; and we heard them tumble one upon
another into the forecastle, and clap-to the hatch upon
the top.

The round-house was like a sliambles; three were
dead inside, another lay in his death agony across the
threshold ; and there were Alan and I victorious and
unhurt.

He came up to me with open arms. "Come to my
arms ! " he cried, and embraced and kissed me hard
upon both cheeks. "David," said he, "I love you like
a brother. And 0, man," he cried in a kind of ecstasy,
"am I no a bonny fighter ? "

Thereupon he turned to the four enemies, passed his
sword clean through each of them, and tumbled them
out of doors one after the other. As he did so, he kept

KIDNAPPED. 97

humming and singing and whistling to himself, like a
man trying to recall an air ; only what he was trying,
was to make one. All the while, the flush was in his
face, and his eyes were as bright as a five-year-old
child's with a new toy. And presently he sat down
upon the table, sword in hand ; the air that he was
making all the time began to run a little clearer, and
then clearer still; and then out he burst with a great
voice into a Gaelic song.

I have translated it here, not in verse (of which I
have no skill) but at least in the king's English. He
sang it often afterwards, and the thing became popular ;
so that I have heard it, and had it explained to me,
many's the time.

This is the song of the sword of Alan :

The smith made it,

The fire set it ;

Now it shines in the hand of Alan Breck.

Their eyes were many and bright.

Swift were they to behold,

Many the hands they guided :

The sword was alone.

The dun deer troop over the hill.

They are many, the hill is one ;

The dun deer vanish.

The hill remains.

Come to me from the hills of heather,

Come from the isles of the sea.

O far-beholding eagles,

Here is your meat.

98 KIDNAPPED,

Now this song which he made (both words and
music) in the hour of our victory, is something k^ss than
just to me, who stood beside him in the tussle. Mr.
Shuan and five more were either killed outrigbt or
thoroughly disabled ; but of these, two fell by my hand,
the two that came by the skylight. Four more were
hurt, and of that number, one (and he not the least
important) got his hurt from me. So that, altogether,
I did my fair share both of the killing and the wound-
ing, and might have claimed a place in Alan's verses.
But poets (as a very wise man once told me) have to
think upon their rhymes ; and in good prose talk, Alan
always did me more than justice.

In the meanwhile, I was innocent of any wrong being
done me. For not only I knew no word of the Gaelic ;
but what with the long suspense of the waiting, and
the scurry and strain of our two spirts of fighting, and
more than all, the horror I had of some of my own
share in it, the thing was no sooner over than I was
glad to stagger to a seat. There was that tightness on
my chest that I could hardly breathe ; the thought of
the two men I had shot sat upon me like a nightmare ;
and all upon a sudden, and before I had a guess of
what was coming, I began to sob and cry like any
child.

Alan clapped my shoulder, and said I was a brave lad
and wanted nothing but a sleep.

"I'll take the first watch," said he. " Ye've done

KIDNAPPED, 99

well by me, David, first and last ; and I wouldn't lose
you for all Appin — no, nor for Breadalbane."

So he made up my bed on the floor, and took the
first spell, pistol in hand and sword on knee ; three
hours by the captain's watch upon the wall. Then he
roused me up, and I took my turn of three hours ;
before the end of which it was broad day, and a very
quiet morning, with a smooth, rolling sea that tossed
the ship and made the blood run to and fro on the
round-house floor, and a heavy rain that drummed upon
the roof. All my watch there was nothing stirring ;
and by the banging of the helm, I knew they had even
no one at the tiller. Indeed (as I learned afterwards)
they were so many of them hurt or dead, and the rest in
so ill a temjjer, that Mr. Eiach and the captain had to
take turn and turn (like Alan and me), or the brig
might have gone ashoi-e and nobody the wiser. It was
a mercy the night had fallen so still, for the wind had
gone down as soon as the rain began. Even as it was,
I Judged by the wailing of a great number of gulls that
went crying and fishing round the ship, that she must
have drifted pretty near the coast or one of the islands
of the Hebrides ; and at last, looking out of the door of
the round-house, I saw the great stone hills of Skye on
the right hand, and, a little more astern, the strange
isle of Rum.

CHAPTER XL

THE CAPTAIN KNUCKLES UNDER.

Alan and I sat down to breakfast about six of the
clock. The floor was covered with broken glass and in
a horrid mess of blood, which took away my hunger.
In all other ways we were in a situation not only agree-
able but merry ; having ousted the officers from their
own cabin, and having at command all the drink m the
shiji — both wine and spirits — and all the dainty part of
what was eatable, such as the pickles and the fine sort
of biscuit. This, of itself, was enough to set us in good
humour ; but the richest part of it was this, that the
two thirstiest men that ever came out of Scotland (Mr,
Shuan being dead) were now shut in the fore-part of
the ship and condemned to what they hated most — cold
water.

"And depend upon it," Alan said, "we shall hear
more of them ere long. Ye may keep a man from the
fighting but uever from his bottle."

We made good company for each other. Alan, in-
deed, expressed himself most lovingly ; and taking a
knife from the table, cut me off one of the silver buttons
from his coat.

KIDNAPPED. 101

"I had them," says he, "from my father, Duncan
Stewart ; and now give ye one of them to be a keep-
sake for last night's work. And wherever ye go and
show that button, the friends of Alan Breck will come
around you."

He said this as if he had been Charlemagne and
commanded armies ; and indeed, much as I admired
his courage, I was always in danger of smiling at his
vanity : in danger, I say, for had I not kept my counte-
nance, I would be afraid to think what a quarrel might
have followed.

As soon as we were through with our meal, he
rummaged in the captain's locker till he found a clothes-
brush ; and then taking off his coat, began to visit his
suit and brush away the stains, with such care and
labour as I supposed to have been only usual with
women. To be sure, he had no other ; and besides
(as he said) it belonged to a King and so behoved to be
royally looked after.

For all that, when I saw what care he took to pluck
out the threads where the button had been cut away, I
put a higher value on his gift.

He was still so engaged, when we were hailed by
Mr. Riach from the deck, asking for a parley ; and I,
climbing through the skylight and sitting on the edge
of it, pistol in hand and with a bold front, though
inwardly in fear of broken glass, hailed him back again
and bade him speak out. He came to the edge of the

102 KIDNAPPED.

ro^^nd-ho^se, and stood on a coil of rope, so that his
chin was on a level with the roof ; and we looked at
each other awhile in silence. Mi-. Riach, as I do not
think he had been very forward in the battle, so he had
got off with nothing worse than a blow upon the cheek :
but he looked out of heart and very weary, having been
all night afoot, either standing watch or doctoring the
woiinded.

" This is a bad Job," said he at last, shaking his
head.

" It was none of our choosing," said I.

"The captain," says he, "would like to speak with
your friend. They might speak at the window."

" And how do we know what treachery he means ? "
cried I.

" He means none, David," returned Mr. Riach ; " and
if he did, I'll tell ye the honest truth, we couldnae get
the men to follow."

" Is that so ?" said I.

"I'll tell ye more than that," said he. "It's not
only the men ; it's me. I'm frich'ened, Davie." And
he smiled across at me. "No," he continued, "what
we want is to be shut of him."

Thereupon I consulted with Alan, and the parley was
agreed to and parole given upon either side ; but this
was not the whole of Mr. Riach's business, and he now
begged me for a dram with such instancy and such
reminders of his former kindness, that at last I handed

KIDNAPPED. 103

him a pannikin with about a gill of brandy. He drank
a part, and then carried the rest down upon the deck,
to share it (I suppose) with his superior.

A little after, the captain came (as was agreed) to
one of the windows, and stood there in the rain, with
his arm in a sling, and looking stern and pale, and so
old that my heart smote me for having fired upon him.

Alan at once held a pistol in his face.

"Put that thing up!" said the captain. "Have I
not passed my word, sir ? or do you seek to affront me ? "

"Captain," said Alan, "I doubt your word is a
breakable. Last night ye haggled and argle-bargled
like an apple-wife ; and then passed me your word,
and gave me your hand to back it ; and ye ken very
well what was the upshot. Be damned to your word ! "
says he.

"Well, well, sir," said the captain, "ye'll get little
good by swearing." (And truly that was a fault of
which the captain was quite free.) " But we have other
things to speak," he continued, bitterly. " Ye've made
a sore hash of my brig : I haven't hands enough left to
work her ; and my first officer (whom I could ill spare)
has got your sword throughout his vitals, and passed
without speech. There is nothing left me, sir, but to
put back into the port of Glasgow after hands ; and
there (by your leave) ye will find them that arc better
able to talk to you."

"Ay ?" said Alan ; "and faith, I'll have a talk with

104 KIDNAPPED,

them mysel' ! Unless there's naebody speaks English
in that town, I have a bonny tale for them. Fifteen
tarry sailors upon the one side, and a man and a half-
ling boy upon the other ! 0, man, it's peetiful ! "

Hoseason flushed red.

"No," continued Alan, "that'll no do. Ye'll just
have to set me ashore as we agreed."

"Ay," said Hoseason, "but my first ofKcer is dead
— ye ken best how. There's none of the rest of us
acquaint with this coast, sir ; and it's one very dan-
gerous to ships."

"I give ye your choice," says Alan. "Set me on
dry ground in Appin, or Ardgour, or in Morveu, or
Arisaig, or Morar ; or, in brief where ye please, within
thirty miles of my own country ; except in a country
of the Campbells'. That's a broad target. If ye
miss that, ye must be as feciiless at the sailoring
as I have found ye at the fighting. Why, my poor
country people in their lit cobles * pass from island to
island in all weathers, ay, and by night too, for the
matter of that."

" A coble's not a ship, sir," said the captain. " It
has nae draught of water."

" Well, then, to Glasgow if ye list ! " says Alan.
" We'll have the laugh of ye at the least."

"My mind runs little upon laughing,," said the
captain. " But all this will cost money, sir. '

* Coble : a small boat used in fishing.

KIDNAPPED. 105

" Well, sir," says Alan, " I am nae weathercock.
Thirty guineas, if ye land me on the sea-side ; and sixty,
if ye put me in the Linnhe Loch."

" But see, sir, where we lie, we are but a few hours'
sail from Ardnamurchan," said Hoseason. "Give me
sixty, and I'll set ye there."

"And I'm to wear my brogues and run jeopardy of
the red-coats to please you ?" cries Alan. " No, sir, if
ye want sixty guineas, earn them, and set me in my
own country."

"It's to risk the brig, sir," said the captain, "and
your own lives along with her."

" Take it or want it," says Alan.

"Could ye pilot us at all ?" asked the captain, who
was frowning to himself.

" Well, it's doubtful," said Alan. " I'm more of a
fighting man (as ye have seen for yoursel') than a sailor-
man. But I have been often enough picked up and set
down upon this coast, and should ken something of the
lie of it."

The captain shook his head, still frowning,

" If I had lost less money on this unchancy cruise,"
says he, " I would see you in a rope's-end before I
risked my brig, sir. But be it as ye will. As soon as
I get a slant of wind (and there's some coming, or I'm
the more mistaken) I'll put it in hand. But there's one
thing more. We may meet in with a king's ship and
she may lay us aboard, sir, with no blame of mine : they

106 KIDNAPPED.

keep the cruisers thick upon this coast, ye ken who for.
Now, sir, if that was to befall, ye might leave the
money."

" Captain," says Alan, "if ye see a pennant, it shall
be your part to run away. And now, as I hear you're
a little short of brandy in the forepart, I'll offer ye a
change : a bottle of brandy against two buckets of
water."

That was the last clause of the treaty, and was duly
executed on both sides ; so that Alan and I could at
last wash out the round-house and be quit of the memo-
rials of those whom we had slain, and the captain and
Mr. Riach could be happy again in their own way, the
name of which was drink.

CHAPTER Xir.

I HEAR OF THE "RED FOX,

Before we had done cleaning out the round-house,
a breeze sprang up from a little to the east of north.
This blew off the rain and brought out the sun.

And here I must explain ; and the reader would do
well to look at a map. On tiie day when the fog fell
and we ran down Alan's boat, we had been running
through the Little Minch. At dawn after the battle,
we lay becalmed to the east of the Isle of Canna or
between that and Isle Eriska in the chain of the Long
Islands. Now to get from there to the Linnhe Loch,
the straight course was through the narrows of the
Sound of Mull. But the captain had no chart; he Avas
afraid to trust his brig so deep among the islands ; and
the wind serving well, he preferred to go by-west of
Tiree and come up under the southern coast of the great
Isle of Mull.

All day the breeze held in the same point, and rather
freshened than died down ; and towards afternoon, a
swell began to set in from round the outer Hebrides.
Our course, to go round about the inner isles, was to the
west of south, so that at first we had this swell upon
our beam, and were much rolled about. But after

108 KIDNAPPED.

nightfall, when we had turned the end of Tiree and
began to head more to the east, the sea came right
astern.

Meanwhile, the early part of the day, before the
swell came up, was very pleasant, sailing, as we were,
in a lu'igiit sunshine and with many mountainous islands
upon different sides. Alan and I sat in the round-house
with the doors open on each side (the wind being
straight astern) and smoked a pipe or two of the cap-
tain's fine tobacco. It was at this time we heard each
other's stories, which was the more important to me, as I
gained some knowledge of that wild Highland country,
on which I was so soon to land. In those days, so close
on the back of the great rebellion, it was needful a man
should know what he was doing when he went upon
the heather.

It was I that showed the example, telling him all
my misfortune ; which he heard with great good nature.
Only, when I came to mention that good friend of
mine, Mr. Campbell the minister, Alan fired up and
cried out that he hated all that were of that name.

"Why," said I, ''he is a man you should be proud to
give your hand to."

''I know nothing I would help a Campbell to," says
he, " unless it was a leaden bullet. I would hunt all of
that name like blackcocks. If I lay dying, I would
crawl upon my knees to my chamber window for a shot
at one."

KIDNAPPED. 109

"Why, Alan," I cried, " what ails ye at the Camp-
bells ? "

"Well," says he, "ye ken very well that I am an
Appin Stewart, and the Campbells have long harried
and wasted those of my name ; ay, and got lands of us
by treachery — but never with the sword," he cried
loudly, and with the word brought down his fist upon
the table. But I paid the less attention to this, for I
knew it was usually said by those who have the under
hand. "There's more than that," he continued, "and
all in the same story : lying words, lying papers, tricks
fit for a peddler, and the show of what's legal over all,
to make a man the moi-e angry."

" You that are so wasteful of your buttons," said 1,
" I can hardly think you would be a good judge of
business."

" Ah ! " says he, falling again to smiling, " I got my
wastefulness from the same man I got the buttons from;
and that was my poor father, Duncan Stewart, grace be
to him! He was the prettiest man of his kindred;
and the best swordsman in the Hielands, David, and
that is the same as to say, in all the world, I should ken,
for it was him that taught me. He was in the Black
Watch, when first it was mustered ; and like other
gentleman privates, had a gillie at his back to carry his
firelock for him on the march. Well, the King, it ap-
pears, was wishful to see Hieland swordsmanship ; and
my father and three more were chosen out and sent to

110 KIDNAPPED.

London town, to let him see it at the best. So they were
had into the palace and showed the whole art of the
sword for two hours at a stretch, before King George
and Queen Carline, and the Butcher Cumberland, and
many more of whom I havenae mind. And when they
were througli, the King (for all he was a rank usurper)
spoke them fair and gave each man three guineas in his
hand. Now, as they were going out of the palace, they
had a porter's lodge to go by ; and it came in on my
father, as he was perhaps the first private Hieland gen-
tleman that had ever gone by that door, it was right he
should give the poor porter a proper notion of their
(juality. So he gives the King's three guineas into the
man's hand, as if it was his common custom ; the three
others that came behind him did the same ; and there
they were on the street, never a penny the better for their
pains. Some say it was one, that was the first to fee
the King's porter ; and some say it was another ; but
the ti'uth of it is, that it was Duncan Stewart, as I am
willing to prove with either sword or pistol. And that
was the father that I had, God rest him."

" I think he was not the man to leave you rich,"
said I.

" And that's true," said Alan. " He left me my
breeks to cover me, and little besides. And that was
hov/ I came to enlist, which was a black spot upon my
character at the. best of times, and would still be a sore
job for me if 1 fell among the red-coats."

KIDNAPPED. Ill

"What?" cried I, "were you in the English
army ? "

" That was I," said Alan. " But I deserted to the
light side at Preston Pans — and that's some comfort.''

I could scarcely share this view : holding desertion
under arras for an unpardonable fault in honour. But
for all I was so young, I was wiser than say my thought.
'* Dear, dear," says I, "the punishment is death.''

"Ay," said he, " if they got hands on me, it would
be a short shrift and a lang tow for Alan ! But I have
the King of France's commission in my pocket, which
would aye be some protection."

" I misdoubt it much," said T.

" I have doubts mysel'," said Alan, drily.

" And, good heaven, man," cried I, "you that are a
condemned rebel, and a deserter, and a man of the
French King's— what tempts ye back into this country ?
It's a braving of Providence."

"Tut," says Alan, "I have been back every year
since forty-six ! "

"And what brings ye, man? " cried I.

" Well, ye see, I weary for my friends and country,"
said he. "France is a braw place, nae doubt; but I
weary for the heather and the deer. And then I have
bit things that I attend to. Whiles I pick up a few
lads to serv^e the King of France : recruits, ye see ; and
that's aye a little money. Bat the heart of the matter
is the business of my chief, Ardshiel."

112 KIDNAPPED.

''I thought they called your chief Appin," said I.

" Ay, but Ardshiel is the captain of the clan," said
he, which scarcely cleared my mind. " Ye see, David,
he that was all his life so great a man, and come of the
blood and bearing the name of kings, is now brought
down to live in a French town like a poor and private
person. He that had four hundred swords at his
whistle I have seen, with these eyes of mine, buying
butter in the market-place, and taking it home in a
kale-leaf. This is not only a pain but a disgrace to us
of his family and clan. There are the bairns forby, the
children and the hope of Appin, that must be learned
their letters and how to hold a sword, in that far
country. Now, the tenants of Appin have to pay a
rent to King George ; but their hearts are staunch, they
are true to their chief ; and what with love and a bit
of pressure, and maybe a threat or two, the poor folk
scrape up a second rent for Ardshiel. Well, David, I'm
the hand that carries it."' And he struck the belt about
his body, so that the guineas rang.

" Do they pay both ? " cried I.

"Ay, David, both," says he.

" What ? two rents ? " I repeated.

"Ay, David," said he. "I told a different tale to
yon captain man ; but this is the truth of it. And its
wonderful to me how little pressure is needed. But
that's the handiwork of my good kinsman and my
father's friend, James of the Glens ; James Stewart,

KIDNAPPED. 113

that is : Ardshiel's half- brother. He it is that gets the
money in, and does the management."

This was the first time I heard the name of that
James Stewart, who was afterwards so famous at the
time of his lianging. But I took little heed at the
moment, for all my mind was occupied with the gener-
osity of these poor Highlanders.

"I call it noble,"' I cried. " I'm a Whig, or little
better ; but I call it noble."

"Ay," said he, " ye're a Whig, but ye're a gentle-
man ; and tliat's what does it. Now, if ye were one of
the cursed race of Campbell, ye would gnash yonr teeth
to hear tell of it. If ye were the Red Fox." . . . And
at that name his teeth shut together, and he ceased
speaking. I have seen many a grim face, but never a
grimmer than Alan's when he had named the Red Fox.

" And who is the Red Fox ? " I asked, daunted, but
still curious.

"Who is he ?" cried Alan. "Well, and I'll tell you
that. When the men of the clans were broken at Cul-
loden, and the good cause went down, and the horses
rode over the fetlocks in the best blood of the north,
Ardshiel had to flee like a poor deer upon the moun-
tains— he and his lady and his bairns. A sair job we
had of it before we got him shipped ; and while he still
lay in the heather, the English rogues, that couldnae
come at his life, were striking at his rights. They
stripped him of his powers ; they stripped him of his
8

114 KIDNAPPED.

lands ; they plucked the weapons from the hands of his
clansmen, that had borne arms for thirty centuries ; ay,
and the very clothes off their backs — so that it's now a
sin to wear a tartan plaid, and a man may be cast into a
jail if he has but a kilt about his legs. One thing they
couldnae kill. That was the love the clansmen bore
their chief. These guineas are the proof of it. And
now, in there steps a man, a Campbell, red-headed Co-
lin of Glen lire "

"Is that him you call the Red Fox ?" said I.

"Will ye bring me his brush ?" cries Alan, fiercely.
"Ah, that's the man. In he steps, and gets papers from
King George, to be so-called King's factor on the lands
of Appin. And at first he sings small, and is hail-fel-
low-well-met with Sheamus^ — that's James of the Glens,
my chieftain's agent. But by and by, that came to his
ears that I have just told you ; how the poor commons
of Appin, the farmers and the crofters and the boumen,
were wringing their very plaids to get a second rent,
and send it overseas for Ardsliiel and his poor bairns.
What was it ye called it, when I told ye ?"

"I called it noble, Alan," said I.

"And you little better than a common Whig !" cries
Alan. " But when it came to Colin Roy, the black
Campbell blood in him ran wild. He sat gnashing his
teeth at the wine table. What ! should a Stewart get a
bite of bread, and him not be able to prevent it ? Ah !
Red Fox, if ever I hold you at a gun's end, the Lord

KIDNAPPED. 115

have pity upon ye ! " (Alan stopped to swallow down
his anger.) "Well, David, what does he do? He
declares all the farms to let. And thinks he, in hia
black heart, I'll soon get other tenants that'll overbid
these Stewarts, and MaccoUs, and Macrobs (for these are
all names in my clan, D;ivid), 'and then,' thinks he,
'Ardshiel will have to hold his bonnet on a French
roadside.'"

" Well," said I, " what followed ?"

Alan laid down his pipe, which he had long since suf-
fered to go out, and set his two hands upon his knees.

"Ay," said ye, "ye'll never guess that! For these
same Stewarts, and Maccolls, and Macrobs (that had
two rents to pay, one to King George by stark force,
and one to Ardshiel by natural kindness), oifered him a
better price than any Campbell in all broad Scotland ;
and far he sent seeking them — as far as to the sides of
Clyde and the cross of Edinburgh — seeking, and fleech-
ing, and begging them to come, where there was a
Stewart to be starved and a red-headed hound of a
Campbell to be pleasured ! "

"Well, Alan," said I, "that is a strange story, and
a fine one too. And Whig as I may be, I am glad the
man was beaten,"

"Him beaten ?" echoed Alan. "It's little ye ken
of Campbells and less of the Red Pox. Him beaten?
No : nor will be, till his blood's on the hillside ! But
if the day comes, David man, that I can find time and

116 KIDNAPPED.

leisure for a bit of hunting, tliere grows not enough
heather in all Scotland to hide liim from my vengeance! "

"Man Alan," said I, "3'e are neither very wise nor
very Christian to blow off so many words of anger.
They will do the man ye call the Fox no harm, and
yourself no good. Tell me your tale plainly out. What
did he next ? "

" And that's a good observe, David," said Alan.
"Troth and indeed, they will do him no harm; the
more's the pity ! And barring that about Christianity
(of which my opinion is quite otherwise, or I would be
nae Christian) I am much of your mind."

"Opinion here or opinion there," said I, "it's a
kent thing that Christianity forbids revenge."

"Ah," said he, "It's well seen it was a Campbell
taught ye ! It would be a convenient world for them
and their sort, if there was no such a thing as a lad and
a gun behind a heather bush ! But that's nothing to
the point. That is what he did."

" Ay," said I, " come to that."

" Well, David," said he, " since he couldnae be rid
of the royal commons by fair means, he swore he would
be rid of them by foul. Ardshiel was to starve : that
was the thing he aimed at. And since them that fed
him in his exile woulduae be bought out right or wrong,
he would drive them out. Therefore he sent for lawyers,
and papers, and red-coats to stand at his back. And the
kindly folk of that country must all pack and tramp.

KIDNAPPED. 117

every father's son out of his father's house, and out of
tlie place wliere he was bred and fed, and played when
he was a callant. And who are to succeed them ? Bare-
leggit beggars ! King George is to whistle for his rents;
he maun dow with less ; he can spread his butter
thinner: what cares Red Colin ? If he can hurt Ard-
,-liicl, he has his wish; if he can pluck the meat from
mv chieftain's table, and the bit toys out of his chil-
dren's hands, he will gang hame singing to Glenure ! "
■ '* Let me have a word," said I. "Be sure, if they
t:ike less rents, be sure Government has a finger in
tiie pie. It's not this Campbell's fault, man — it's his
orders. And if ye killed this Colin to-morrow, what
I tetter would ye be ? There would be another factor in
his shoes, as fast as spur can drive."

" Ye're a good lad in a fight," said Alan ; " but
man ! ye have Whig blood in ye !"

He spoke kindly enough, but there was so much
anger under his contempt that I thought it was wise to
change the convei'sation. I expressed my wonder how,
with the Highlands covered with troops and guarded
like a city in a siege, a man in his situation could come
and go without arrest.

" It's easier than ye would think," said Alan. " A
bare hillside (ye see) is like all one road ; if there's a
sentry at one place ye just go by another. And then
heather's a great help. And everywhere there are
friends' lionses and friends' byres and haystacks. And

118 KIDNAPPED.

besides, when folk talk of a country covered with troops,
it's bnt a kind of a byword at the best. A soldier covers
nae mair of it than his boot-soles. I have fished a water
with a sentry on the other side of the brae, nnd
killed a fine trout ; and I have sat in a heather buyh
within six feet of another, and learned a real bonny
tune from his whistling. This was it," said he, and
whistled me the air.

"And then, besides," he continued, " it's no sae bad
now as it was in forty-six. The Hielands are what
they call pacified. Small wonder, with never a gun
or a sword left from Cantyre to Cape Wrath, but what
tenty folk have hidden in their thatch ? But what I
would like to ken, David, is Just how long ? Not long,
ye would think, Avith men like Ardshiel in exile and
men like the Red Fox sitting birling the wine and op-
pressing the poor at home. But it's a kittle thing to
decide what folk '11 bear, and what they will not. Or
why would Red Colin be riding his horse all over my
poor country of Appin, and never a pretty lad to put a
bullet in him ? "

And with this Alan fell into a muse, and for a long
time sate very sad and silent.

I will add the rest of what I have to say about my
friend, that he was skilled in all kinds of music, but
principally pipe-music ; was a well-considered poet in
his own tongue ; had read several books both in French
and English ; was a dead shot, a good angler, and an

KIDNAPPED. 119

excellent fencer with the small sword as well as with
his own particular weapon. For his faults, they were
on his face, and I now knew them all. But the worst
of them, his childish propensity to take offence and to
pick quarrels, he greatly laid aside in my case, out of
regard for the battle of the round-house. But whether
it was because T had done well myself, or because I
had been a witness of his own much greater prowess, is
more than I can tell. For though he had a great
taste for courage in other men, yet he admired it most
in Alan Breck.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE LOSS OF THE BBIG.

It was already late at night, and as dark as it ever
would be at that season of the year (and that is to say,
it was still pretty bright), when Hoseason clapped his
head into the round-house door.

"Here," said he, "come out and see if ye can
pilot."

" Is this one of your tricks ? " asked Alan.

'* Do I look like tricks?" cries the captain. "I
have other things to think of — my brig's in danger ! "

By the concerned look of his face, and, above all, by
the sharp tones in which he spoke of his brig, it was
plain to both of us ho was in deadly earnest ; and so
Alan and I, with no great fear of treachery, stepped
on deck.

The sky was clear ; it blew hard, and was bitter
cold ; a great deal of daylight Imgered ; and the moon,
which was nearly full, shone brightly. The brig was
close hauled, so as to round the south-west corner of the
Island of Mull ; the hills of which (and Ben More above
them all, with a wisp of mist upon the top of it) lay
full upon the larboard bow. Though it was no good
point of sailing for the Covenant, she tore through the

KIDNAPPED. 121

seas at a great rate, pitching and straining, and pursued
by the westerly swell.

Altogether it was no such ill night to keep the seas
in ; and I had begun to wonder what it was that sat so
heavily upon the captain, when the brig rising suddenly
on the top of a high swell, he pointed and cried to us
to look. Away on the lee bow, a thing like a fountain
rose out of the moonlit sea, and immediately after we
heard a low sound of roaring.

'• What do ye call that ? " asked the captain
gloomily.

"The sea breaking on a reef," said Alan. "And
now ye ken where it is; and what better would ye
have ? "

"Ay," said Hoseason, "if it was the only one."

And sure enough just as he spoke there came a
second fountain further to the south.

" There !" said Hoseason. " Ye see for yourself. If
I had kent of these reefs, if I had had a chart, or if
Shuan had been spared, it's not sixty guineas, no, nor
six hundred, would have made me risk my brig in sic a
stoneyard ! But you, sir, that was to pilot us, have ye
never a word ?"

"I'm thinking," said Alan, " these'll be what they
call the Torran Rocks."

" Are there many of them ? " says the captain.

"Truly, sir, I am nae pilot," said Alan; "but it
sticks in my mind, there are ten miles of them."

122 KIDNAPPED.

Mr. Riach and the captain looked at each other

"There's a way through them, I suppose?" said
the captain.

" Doubtless," said Alan ; "but where ? But it some-
how runs in my mind once more, that it is clearer
under the land."

"So?" said Hoseason. "We'll have to haul our
wind then, Mr. Riach ; well have to come as near in
about the end of Mull as we can take her, sir ; and even
then we'll have the land to kep the wind off us, and
that stoneyard on our lee. Well, we're in for it now,
and may as well crack on."

With that he gave an order to the steersman, and
sent Riach to the foretop. There were only five men
on deck, counting tlie officers ; these were all that were
fit (or, at least, both fit and willing) for their work ;
and two of these were hurt. So, as I say, it fell to
Mr. Riach to go aloft, and he sat there looking out and
hailing the deck with news of all he saw.

"The sea to the south is thick," he cried ; and then,
after awhile, "It does seem clearer in by the land."

"Well, sir," said Hoseason to Alan, " we'll try your
way of it. But I think I might as well trust to a blind
fiddler. Pray God you're right."

"Pray God I am !" says Alan to me. "But where
did I hear it ? Well, well, it will be as it must."

As we got nearer to the turn of the land the reefs
began to be sown here and there on our very path ; and

KIDNAPPED. 123

Mr. Riach sometimes cried down to us to change the
course. Sometimes, indeed, none too soon ; for one
reef was so close on the brig's weather board that when
a sea burst upon it the lighter sprays fell upon her deck
and wetted us like rain.

The brightness of the night showed us these perils as
clearly as by day, which was, perhaps, the more alarm-
ing. It showed me, too, the face of the captain as he
stood by the steersman, now on one foot, now on the
other, and sometimes blowing in his hands, but still
listening and looking and as steady as steel. Neither
he nor Mr. Riach had shown well in the fighting ; but
I saw they were brave in their own trade, and admired
them all the more because I found Alan very white.

"Ochone, David/' said he, "this is no the kind of
death I fancy."

" What, Alan !" I cried, "you're not afraid ?"

"No," said he, wetting his lips, "but you'll allow
yourself, it's a cold ending."

By this time, now and then sheering to one side or
the other to avoid a reef, but still hugging the wind
and the land, we had got round lona and begun to
come alongside Mull. The tide of the tail of the land
ran very strong, and threw the brig about. Two hands
were put to the helm, and Hoseason himself would
sometimes lend a help ; and it was strange to see three
strong men throw their weight upon the tiller, and it
(like a living thing) struggle against and drive them

124 KIDNAPPED.

back. This would have been the greater danger, had
not the sea been for some while free of obstacles. Mr.
Riach, besides, announced from the top that he saw
clear water ahead.

"Ye were right," said Hoseason to Alan. " Ye have
saved the brig, sir ; I'll mind that when we come to
clear accounts." And I believe he not only meant what
he said, but would have done it ; so high a place did
the Covenant hold in his affections.

But this is matter only for conjecture, things having
gone otherwise than he forecast.

"Keep her away a point," sings out Mr. Riach.
" Reef to windward ! "

And just at the same time the tide caught the brig,
and threw the wind out of her sails. She came round
into the wind like a top, and the next moment struck
the reef with such a dunch as threw us all flat upon the
deck, and came near to shake Mr. Riach from his place
upon the mast.

I was on my feet in a minute. The reef on which
we had struck was close in under the south-west end of
Mull, off a little isle they call Earraid, which lay low
and black upon the larboard. Sometimes the swell
broke clean over us ; sometimes it only ground the poor
brig upon the reef, so that we could hear her beat her-
self to pieces ; and what with the great noise of the
sails, and the singing of the wind, and the flying of the
spray in the moonlight, and the sense of danger, I think

KIDNAPPED. 125

my head was partly turned, for 1 could scarcely under-
stand the things I saw.

Presently, I observed Mr. Riach and the seamen busy
round the skiff; and still in the same blank, ran over to
assist them ; and as soon as I set my hand to work, my
mind came clear again. It was no very easy task, for
the skiff lay amidships and was full of hamper, and the
breaking of the heavier seas continually forced us to
give over and hold on ; but we all wrought like horses
while we could.

Meanwhile such of the wounded as could move came
clambering out- of the fore-scuttle and began to help;
while the rest that lay helpless in their bunks harrowed
me with screaming and begging to be saved.

The captain took no part. It seemed he was struck
stupid. He stood holding by the shrouds, talking to
himself and groaning out aloud whenever the ship ham-
mered on the rock. His brig was like wife and child
to him ; he had looked on, day by day, at the mishand-
ling of poor Ransome ; but when it came to the l)rig,
he seemed to suft'er along with her.

All the time of our working at the boat, I remember
only one other thing : that I asked Alan, looking across
at the shore, what country it was ; and he answered, it
was the worst possible for him, for it was a land of the
Campbells.

We had one of the wounded men told off to keep a
watch ujjon the seas and cry us warning. Well, we had

126 KIDNAPPED.

the boat about ready to be launched, when this man
sang out pretty shrill: "For God's sake, hold on!"
We knew by his tone that it was something more than
ordinary ; and sure enough, there followed a sea so huge
that it lifted the brig right up and canted her over on
her beam. Whether the cry came too late or my hold
was too weak, I know not ; but at the sudden tilting of
the ship, I was cast clean over the bulwarks into the
sea.

I went down, and drank my fill; and then came up,
and got a blink of the moon ; and then down again.
They say a man sinks the third time for good. I cannot
be made like other folk, then; for I would not like to
write how often I went down or how often I came up
again. All the while, I was being hurled along, and
beaten upon and choked, and then swallowed whole ;
and the thing was so distracting to my wits, that I was
neither sorry nor afraid.

Presently, I found I was holding to a spar, which
helped me somewhat. And then all of a sudden I was
in quiet water, and began to come to myself.

It was the spare yard I had got hold of, and I was
amazed to see how far I had travelled from the brig, I
hailed her, indeed ; but it was plain she was already out
of cry. She was still holding togetlier; but whether or
not they had yet launched the boat, I was too far off
and too low down to see.

While I was hailing the brig, I spied a tract of wa-

KIDNAPPED. 127

ter lying between us, where no great waves came, but
which yet boiled white all over and bristled in the moon
with rings and bubbles. Sometimes the whole tract
swung to one side, like the tail of a live serpent ; some-
times, for a glimpse, it all would disappear and then
boil up again. What it was I had no guess, which for
the time increased my fear of it ; but I now know it
must have been the roost or tide- race, which had carried
me away so fast and tumbled me about so cruelly, and
at last, as if tired of that play, had flung out me and
the spare yard upon its landward margin.

I now lay quite becalmed, and began to feel that a
man can die of cold as well as of drowning. The shores
of Earraid were close in ; I could see in the moonlight
the dots of heather and the sparkling of the mica in
the rocks.

"Well," thought I to myself, "if I cannot get as
far as that, it's strange ! "

I had no skill of swimming, Essen water being small
in our neighbourhood ; but when I laid hold upon the
yard with both arms, and kicked out with both feet, I
soon begun to find that I was moving. Hard work it
was, and mortally slow ; but in about an hour of kicking
and splashing, I had got well in between the points of a
sandy bay surrounded by low hills.

Tiie sea was here quite quiet ; there was no sound of
any surf ; the moon shone clear ; and I thought in my
heart I had never seen a place so desert and desolate.

128 KIDNAPPED.

But it WHS dry land ; and when at last it grew so shallow
that I could leave the yard and wade ashore upon my
feet, I cannot tell if I was more tired or more grateful.
Both at least, I was : tired as I never was before that
night ; and grateful to Grod, as I trust I have been often
though never with more cause.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE ISLET.

With my stepping ashore, I began the most unhappy
part of my adventures. It was half-i:)ast twelve in the
morning, and though the wind was broken by the land,
it was a cold night. I dared not sit down (for I thought
I should have frozen), but took off my shoes and
walked to and fro upon the sand, barefoot and beating
my breast, with infinite weariness. There was no sound
of man or cattle ; not a cock crew, though it was about
the hour of their fii'st waking ; only the surf broke out-
side in the distance, which put me in mind of my perils
and those of my friend. To walk by the sea at that
hour of the morning, and in a place so desert-like and
lonesome, struck me with a kind of fear.

As soon as the day began to break, I put on my shoes
and climbed a hill — the ruggedest scramble I ever un-
dertook— falling, the whole way, between big blocks of
granite or leaping from one to another. When I got to
the top the dawn was come. There was no sign of the
brig, which must have lifted from the reef and sunk.
The boat, too, was nowhere to be seen. There was
never a sail upon the ocean ; and in what I could see of
the land, was neither house nor man.

130 KIDNAPPED.

I was afraid to think what had befallen my ship-
mates, and afraid to look longer at so empty a scene.
What with my wet clothes and weariness, and my belly
that now began to ache with hunger, I had enough to
trouble me without that. So I set off eastward along
the south coast, hoping to find a house where I might
warm myself, and perhaps get news of those I had lost.
And at the worst, I considered the sun would soon rise
and dry my clothes.

After a little, my way was stopped by a creek or inlet
of the sea, which seemed to run pretty deep into the
land ; and as I had no means to get across, I must needs
change my direction to go about the end of it. It was
still the roughest kind of walking ; indeed tlie whole,
not only of Earraid, but of the neighbouring part of
Mull (which they call the Ross) is nothing but a jumble
of granite rocks with heather in among. At first the
creek kept narrowing as I had looked to see ; but pres-
ently to my surprise it began to widen out again. At
this I scratched my head, but had still no notion of the
truth ; until at last I came to a rising ground, and it
burst upon me all in a moment that I was cast upon a
little, barren isle, and cut off on every side by the salt
seas.

Instead of the sun rising to dry me, it came on to
rain, with a thick mist ; so that my case was lament-
able.

I stood in the rain, and shivered, and wondered what

KIDNAPPED. 131

to do, till it occurred to me that perhaps the creek was
fordable. Back I went to the narrowest* point and
waded in. But not three yards from shore, I plumped
in head over cars ; and if ever I was heard of more it
was rather by God's grace than my own prudence. I
was no wetter (for that could hardly be), but I was all
the colder for this mishap ; and having lost another
hope, was the more unhappy.

And now, all at once, the yard came in my head.
What had carried me through the roost, would surely
serve me to cross this little quiet creek in safety. With
that I set off, undaunted, across the top of the isle, to
fetch and carry it back. It was a weary tramp in all
ways, and if hope had not buoyed me up, I must have
cast myself down and given up. Whether with the
sea salt, or because I was growing fevered, I was dis-
tressed with thirst, and had to stop, as I went, and
drink the peaty water out of the hags.

I came to the bay at last, more dead than alive ; and
at the first glance, I thought the yard was something
further out than when I left it. In I went, for the
third time, into the sea. The sand was smooth and
firm and shelved gradually down ; so that I could wade
out till the water was almost to my neck and the little
waves splashed into my face. But at that depth my
feet began to leave me, and I durst venture in no
further. As for the yard, I saw it bobbing very quietly
sonie twenty feet in front of me.

132 KIDNAPPED.

I had borne up well until this last disappointment ;
but at that I came ashore, and flung myself down upon
the sands and wept.

The time I spent upon the island is still so horrible
a thought to me, that I must pass it lightly over. In
all the books I have read of people cast away, tliey had
either their pockets full of tools, or a chest of things
would be thrown upon the beach along with them, as
if on purpose. My case was very different. I had
nothing in my pockets but money and Alan's silver
button ; and being inland bred, I was as much short of
knowledge as of means.

I knew indeed that shell-fish were counted good to
eat ; and among the rocks of the isle I found a great
plenty of limpets, which at first I could scarcely strike
from their places, not knowing quickness to be needful.
There were, besides, some of the little shells that we
call buckles ; I think periwinkle is the English name.
Of these two I made my whole diet, devouring them
cold and raw as I found them ; and so hungry was I,
that at first they seemed to me delicious.

Perhaps they were out of season, or perhaps there
was something wrong in the sea about my island. But
at least I had no sooner eaten my first meal than I was
seized with giddiness and retching, and lay for a long
time no better than dead. ^A second trial of the same
food (indeed I had no other) did better with me and
revived my strength. But as long as I was on the

KIDNAPPED. 188

island, I never knew what to expect when I had eaten ;
sometimes all was well, and sometimes I was thrown
into a miserable sickness ; nor could I ever distinguish
what particular Gsh it was that hurt me.

All day it streamed rain ; the island ran like a sop ;
there was no dry spot to be found ; and when I lay
down that night, between two boulders that made a
kind of roof, my feet were in a bog.

The second day, I crossed the island to all sides.
There was no one part of it better than another ; it was
all desolate and rocky ; nothing living on it but game
birds which I lacked the means to kill, and the gulls
which haunted the outlying rocks in a prodigious num-
ber. But the creek, or straits, that cut off the isle from
the main land of the Koss, opened out on the north into
a bay, and the bay again opened into the Sound of lona;
and it was the neighbourhood of this place that I chose
to be my home ; though if I had thought upon the very
name of home in such a spot, I must have burst out
crying.

I had good reasons for my choice. There was in this
part of the isle a little hut of a house like a pig's hut,
where fishers used to sleep when they came there upon
their business ; but the turf roof of it had fallen entirely
in ; so that the hut was of no use to me, and gave me
less shelter than my rocks. What was more important,
the shell-fish on which I lived grew there in great
plenty ; when the tide was out I could gather a peek at

134 KIDNAPPED.

a time : and this was doubtless a convenience. But the
other reason went deeper. I had become in no way
used to the horrid solitude of the isle, but still looked
round me on all sides (like a man that was hunted)
between fear and hope that I might see some human
creature coming. Now, from a little up the hillside
over the bay, I could catch a sight of the great, ancient
church and the roofs of the people's houses in Zona.
And on the other hand, over the low country of the
Eoss, I saw smoke go up, morning and evening, as if
from a homestead in a hollow of the land.

I used to watch this smoke, when I was wet and cold,
and had my head half turned with loneliness ; and
think of the fireside and the company, till my heart
bu]"ned. It was the same with the roofs of lona.
Altogether, this sight I had of men's homes and com-
fortable lives, although it put a point on my own
sufferings, yet it kept hope alive, and helped me to eat
my raw shell -fish (which had soon grown to be a dis-
gust) and saved me from the sense of horror I had
whenever I was quite alone with dead rocks, and fowls,
and the rain, and the cold sea.

I say it kept hope alive ; and indeed it seemed impos-
sible that I should be left to die on the shores of my own
country, and within view of a church tower and the
smoke of men's houses. But the second day passed ;
and though as long as the light lasted I kept a bright
look-out for boats on the Sound or men passing on the

KIDNAPPED. 135

Eoss, no help came near me. It still rained ; and I
turned in to sleep, as wet as ever and with a cruel sore
throat, but a little comforted, perhaps, by having said
good-night to my next neighbours, the people of
I on a.

Charles the Second declared a man could stay out-
doors more days in the year in the climate of England
than in any other. This was very like a king with a
palace at his back and changes of dry clothes. But he
must have had better luck on his flight from Worcester
than I had on that miserable isle. It was the height of
the summer; yet it rained for more than twenty-four
hours, and did not clear until the afternoon of the third
day.

This was the day of incidents. In the morning I
saw a red deer, a buck with a fine spread of antlers,
standing in the rain on the top of the island ; but he
had scarce seen me rise from under my rock, before he
trotted off lapon the other side. I supposed he must
have swum the straits ; though what should bring any
creature to Earraid, was more than I could fancy.

A little after, as I was jumping about after my
limpets, I was startled by a guinea piece, which fell
upon a rock in front of me and glanced off into the sea.
When the sailors gave me my money again, they kept
back not only about a third of the whole sum, but my
father's leather purse ; so that from that day out, I car-
ried my gold loose in a pocket with a button. I now saw

136 KIDNAPPED.

there must be a liole, and clapped my hand to the place
in a great hurry. But this was to lock the stable door
after the steed was stolen. I had left the shore at
Queensferry with near on fifty pounds ; now I found no
more than two guinea pieces and a silver shilling.

It is true I picked up a third guinea a little after,
where it lay shining on a piece of turf. That made a
fortune of three' pounds and four shillings, English
money, for a lad, the rightful heir of an estate, and now
starving on an isle at the extreme end of the wild High-
lands.

This state of my affairs dashed me still further; and
indeed my plight on that third morning was truly piti-
ful. My clothes were beginning to rot ; my stockings
in particular were quite worn through, so that my
shanks went naked ; my hands had grown quite soft
with the continual soaking ; my throat was very sore,
my strength had much abated, and my heart so turned
against the horrid stuff I was condemned to eat, that
the very sight of it came near to sicken me.

And yet the worst was not yet come.

There is a pretty high rock on the north-west of
Earraid, which (because it had a flat top and overlooked
the Sound) I was much in the habit of frequenting; not
that ever I stayed in one place, save when asleep, my
misery giving me no rest. Indeed, I wore myself down
with continual and aimless goings and comings in the
rain.

KIDNAPPED. 137

As soon, however, as the sun came out, I lay down
on the top of that rock to dry myself. The comfort of
the sunshine is a thing I cannot tell. It set me think-
ing hopefully of my deliverance, of which I had begun
to despair ; and I scanned the sea and the Eoss with a
fresh interest. On the south of my rock, a part of the
island Jutted out and hid the open ocean, so that a boat
could thus come quite near me upon that side, and I be
none the wiser.

Well, all of a sudden, a coble with a brown sail and
a pair of fishers aboard of it, came flying round that
corner of the isle, bound for lona. I shouted out, and
then fell on my knees on the rock and reached up my
hands and prayed to them. They were near enough to
hear — I could even see the colour of their hair ; and
there was no doubt but they observed me, for they cried
out in the Gaelic tongue and laughed. But the boat
never turned aside, and flew on, right before my eyes,
for lona.

I could not believe such wickedness, and ran along
the shore from rock to rock, crying on them piteously ;
even after they were out of reach of my voice, I still
cried and waved to them ; and when they were quite
gone, I thought my heart would have burst. All the
time of my troubles, I wept only twice. Once, when I
could not reach the oar ; and now, the second time,
when these fishers turned a deaf car to my cries. But
this time I wept and roared like a wicked child, tearing

138 KIDNAPPED.

up the turf with my uails and grinding my face in the
earth. If a wish would kill men, those two fishers
would never have seen morning ; and I should likely
have died upon my island.

When I was a little over my anger, I must eat again,
but with such loathing of the mess as I could now
scarcely control. Sure enough, I should have done as
well to fast, for my fishes poisoned me again. I had all
my first pains ; my throat was so sore I could scarce
swallow ; I had a fit of strong shuddering, which
clucked my teeth together ; and there came on me that
dreadful sense of illness, which we have no name for
either in Scotch or English. I thought I should have
died, and made my peace with God, forgiving all men,
even my uncle and the fishers ; and as soon as I had
thus made up my mind to the worst, clearness came
upon me : I observed the night was falling dry ; my
clothes were dried a good deal ; truly, I was in a better
case than ever before, since I had landed on the isle ;
and so I got to sleep at last, with a thought of
gratitude.

The next day (which was the fourth of this horrible
life of mine) I found my bodily strength run very low.
But the sun shone, the air was sweet, and what I man-
aged to eat of the shell-fish, agreed well with me and
revived my courage.

I was scarce back on my rock (where I went always
the first thing after I had eaten) before I observed a

KIDNAPPED. 139

boat coming down the Sound and with her head, as I
thought, in my dii'ection.

I began at once to hope and fear exceedingly ; for I
thought these men might have thought better of their
cruelty and be coming back to my assistance. But
another disappointment, such as yesterday's, was more
than I could bear. I turned my back, accordingly, upon
the sea, and did not look again till I had counted many
hundreds. The boat was still heading for the island.
The next time I counted the full thousand, as slowly as
I could, my heart beating so as to hurt me. And then
it was out of all question. She was coming straight to
Earraid I

I could no longer hold myself back, but ran to the
sea-side and out, from one rock to another, as far as I
could go. It is a marvel I was not drowned ; for when
I was brought to a stand at last, my legs shook under
me, and my mouth was so dry, I must wet it with the
sea-water before I was able to shout.

All this time the boat was coming on ; and now I
was able to perceive it was the same boat and the same
two men as yesterday. This I knew by their hair, which
the one had of a bright yellow and the other black. But
now there was a third man along with them, who looked
to be of a better class.

As soon as they were come within easy speech, they
let down their sail and lay quiet. In spite of my sup-
plications, they drew no nearer in, and what frightened

140 KIDNAPPED.

me most of all, the new man tee-hee'd with laughter as
he talked and looked at me.

Then he stood up in the boat and addressed me a
long while, speaking fast and with many wavings of his
hand. I told him I had no Gaelic ; and at this he be-
came very angry, and I began to suspect he thought he
was talking English. Listening very close, I caught
the word ''whateffer" sevei'al times; but all the rest
was Gaelic, and might have been Greek and Hebrew for
me.

" Whatever," said I, to show him I had caught a
word.

"Yes, yes— yes, yes," says lie, and then he looked at
the other men, as much as to say, " I told you I spoke
English," and began again as hard as ever in the
Gaelic.

This time I picked out another word, '' tide." Then
I had a flash of hope. I remembered he was always
waving his hand towards the mainland of the Ross.

" Do you mean when the tide is out ? " 1 cried,

and could not finish.

" Yes, yes," said he. "Tide."

At that I turned tail upon their boat (where my ad-
viser had once more begun to tee-hee with laughter),
leaped back the way I had come, from one stone to
another, and set off running across the isle as I had never
run before. In about half an hour I came out upon the
shores of the creek ; and, sure enough, it was shrunk

KIDNAPPED. 1-il

into a little trickle of water, through which I dashed,
not above my knees, and landed with a shout on the
main island.

A sea-bred boy would not have stayed a day on
Earraid ; which is only what they call a tidal islet, and
except in the bottom of the neaps, can be entered and
left twice in every twenty-four hours, either dry-shod,
or at the most by wading. Even I, who had the tide
going out and irv before me in the bay, and even watched
for the ebbs, the better to get my shell-fish — even I (I
say), if I had sat down to think, instead of raging at
my fate, must have soon guessed the secret and got free.
It was no wonder the fishers had not understood me.
The wonder was rather that they bad ever guessed my
pitiful illusion, and taken the trouble to come back. I
had starved with cold and hunger on that island for
close upon one hundred hours. But for the fishers, I
might have left ray bones there, in pure folly. And
even as it was, I had paid for it pretty dear, not only
in past sufferings, but in my present case ; being clothed
like a beggar-man, scarce able to walk, and in great
pain of my sore throat.

I have seen wicked men and fools, a great many of
both ; and I believe they both get paid in the end ; but
the fools first.

CHAPTER XV.

THE LAD WITH THE SILVEK BUTTON : THROUGH THE
ISLE OF MULL.

The Ross of Mull, which I had npw got upon, was
rugged and trackless, like the isle I had just left ;
being all bog, and briar, and big stone. There may be
roads for them that know that country well ; but for
my part I had no better guide than my own nose, and
no other landmark than Ben More.

I aimed as well as I could for the smoke I had seen
so «f ten from the island ; and with all my great weari-
ness and the difficulty of the way, came upon the house
at tlie bottom of a little hollow, about five or six at
night. It was low and longish, roofed with turf and
built of un mortared stones ; and on a mound in front
of it, an old gentleman sat smoking his pipe in the sun.

With, what little English he luid, he gave me to
understand that my shipmates had got safe ashore, and
had broken bread in that very house on the day after.

"Was there one,"' I asked, "dressed like a gentle-
man ? "

He said they all wore rough great-coats ; but to
be sure, the first of them, the one that came alone,

KIDNAPPED. 143

wore breeches and stockings, while the rest had sailors'
trousers.

'•'Ah," said I, "and he Avould have a feathered
hat ? "

He told me, no, that lie was bare-headed like my-
self.

At first I thought Alan might have lost his hat ; and
then the rain came in my mind, and I judged it more
likely he had it out of harm's way under his great-coat.
This set me smiling, partly beeai;se my friend was safe,
partly to think of his vanity in dress.

And then tiie old gentleman clapped his hand to his
brow, and cried out that I must be the lad with the
silver button.

" Why, yes ! " said I, in some wonder.

" Well, then," said the old gentleman, " I have a
word for you that you are to follow your friend to his
country, by Torosay."

He then asked me how I had fared, and I told him
my tale. A south-country man would certainly have
laughed ; but this old gentleman (I call him so because
of his manners, for his clothes were dropping off his
back) heard me all tlirough with nothing but gravity
and pity. When I had done, he took me by the hand,
led me into his hut (it was no better) and presented me
before his wife, as if she had been the Queen and I a
duke.

The good woman set oat-bread before me and a cold

144 KIDNAPPED.

grouse, patting my shoulder and smiling to me all the
time, for she had no English ; and the old gentleman
(not to be behind) bi-ewed me a strong punch out of
their country spirit. All the while I was eating, and
after that when I was drinking the punch, I could
scarce come to believe in my good fortune ; and the
house, though it was thick with the peat-smoke and as
full of holes as a colander, seemed like a palace.

The punch threw me in a strong sweat and a deep
slumber; the good people let me lie; and. it was near
noon of the next day before I took the road, my throat
already easier and my spirits quite restored by good fare
and good news. The old gentleman, although I pressed
him hard, would take no money, and gave me an old
bonnet for my head ; though I am free to own I was no
sooner out of view of the house than I very jealously
washed this gift of his in a wa3'side fountain.

Thought I to myself : " If these are the wild High-
landers, I could wish my own folk wilder."

I not only started late, but I must have wandered
nearly half the time. True, I met plenty of people,
grubbing in little miserable fields that would not keep
a cat, or herding little kine about the bigness of asses.
The Highland dress being forbidden by law since the
rebellion, and the people condemned to the lowland
habit, Avhich they much disliked, it was strange to see
the variety of their array. Some went bare, only for a
hanging cloak or great-coat, and carried their trousers

KIDNAPPED. 145

on their backs like a useless burthen ; some had made
au imitation of the tartan with little parti-coloured
stripes patched together like an old wife's quilt ; others,
again, still wore the Highland philabeg, but by putting
a few stitches between the legs, transformed it into a
pair of trousers like a Dutchman's. All those make-
shifts were condemned and punished, for the law was
harshly applied, in hopes to break up the clan spirit ;
but in that out-of-the-v/ay, seabound isle, there were
few to make remarks and fewer to tell tales.

They seemed in great poverty : which was no doubt
natural, now that rajjine was put down, and the chiefs
kept no longer an open house ; and the roads (even such
a wandering, country by-track as the one I followed)
were infested with beggars. And here again I marked
a difference from my own part of the country. For our
lowland beggars — even the gownsmen themselves, who
beg by patent — had a louting, flattering way with them,
and if you gave them a plack and asked change, would
very civilly return you a boddle. But these Highland
beggars stood on their dignity, asked alms only to buy
snuff (by their account) and would give no change.

To be sure, this was no concern of mine, except in so
far as it entertained me by the way. What was much
more to the purpose, few had any English, and these
few (unless they were of the brotherhood of beggars)
not very anxious to place it at my service. I knew
Torosay to be my destination, and repeated the name to

146 KIDNAPPED.

them and pointed ; but instead of simply pointing in
reply, they would give me a screed of the Gaelic that
set me foolish ; so it was small wonder if I went out of
my road as often as I stayed in it.

At last, about eight at night, and already very
"weary, I came to a lone house, where I asked admit-
tance and was refused, until I bethought me of the
power of money in so poor a country, and held up one
of my guineas in my finger and thumb. Thereupon,
the man of the house, who had hitherto pretended to
have no English and driven me from his door by
signals, suddenly began to speak as clearly as was need-
ful, and agreed for five shillings to give me a night's
lodging and guide me the next day to Torosay.

I slept uneasily that night, fearing I should be
robbed ; but I might have spared myself the pain ; for
my host was no robber, only miserably poor and a great
cheat. He was not alone in his poverty ; for the next
morning, we must go five miles about to the house of
what he called a rich man to have one of my guineas
changed. This was perhaps a rich man for Mull ; he
Avould have scarce been thought so in the south ; for it
took all he had, the whole house was turned upside
down, and a neighbour brought under contribution,
before he could scrape together twenty shillings in
silver. The odd shilling he kept for himself, protesting
he could ill aiford to have so great a sum of money
lying ''locked up." For all that he was very courteous

KIDNAPPED. 147

and well spoken, made ns both sit down with his family
to dinner, and brewed punch in a fine china bowl ; over
which my rascal guide grew so merry that he refused to
start.

I was for getting angry, and appealed to the rich
man (Hector Maclean was his name) who had been a
witness to our bargain and to my payment of the five
shillings. But Maclean had taken his share of the
punch, and vowed that no gentleman should leave his
table after the bowl Avas brewed ; so there was nothing
for it but to sit and hear Jacobite toasts and Gaelic
songs, till all were tipsy and staggered off to the bed or
the barn for their night's rest.

Next day (the fourth of my travels) we were up be-
fore five upon the clock, but my rascal guide got to the
bottle at once ; and it was three hours before I had him
clear of the house, and then (as you shall hear) only for
a worse disappointment.

As long as we went down a heathery valley that lay
before Mr. Maclean's house, all went well ; only my
guide looked constantly over his shoulder, and when I
asked him the cause, only grinned at me. No sooner,
however, had we crossed the back of a hill, and got out
of sight of the back windows, than he told me Torosay
lay right in front, and that a hill-top (which he pointed
out) was my best landmark.

"I care very little for that," said I, " since you are
ffoin<? with me."

148 KIDNAPPED.

The impudent cheat answered me in the Gaelic that
he had no English.

" My fine fellow," I said, "I know very well your
English comes and goes. Tell me what will bring it
back ? Is it more money you wish ? "

"Five shillings mair," said he, "^ and hersel' will
bring ye there."

I reflected awhile and then offered him two, which he
accepted greedily, and insisted on having in his hands
at once — "for luck," as he said, but I think it was
rather for my misfortune.

The two shillings carried him not quite as many
miles ; at the end of which distance, he sat down upon
the wayside and took off his brogues from his feet, like
a man about to rest.

I was now red-hot. " Ha ! '* said I, " have you no
more English ? "

He said impudently, " No."

At that I boiled over and lifted my hand to strike
him ; and he, drawing a knife from his rags, squatted
back and grinned at me like a wild-cat. At that, for-
getting everything but my anger, I ran in upon him,
put aside his knife with my left and struck him in the
mouth with my right. I was a strong lad and very
angry, and he but a little man ; and he went down be-
fore me heavily. By good luck, his knife flew out of
his hand as he fell.

I picked up both that and his brogues, wished him a

KIDNAPPED. 149

good-morning and set off upon my way, leaving him
barefoot and disarmed. I cliuckled to myself as I went,
being sure I was done with that rogue, for a variety of
reasons. First, he knew he could have no more of my
money ; next, the brogues were worth in that country
only a few pence ; and lastly the knife, which was
really a dagger, it was against the law for him to carry.

In about half-an-hour of walk, I overtook a great,
ragged man, moving pretty fast but feeling before him
with a staff. He was quite blind, and told me he was a
catechist, which should have put me at my ease. But
his face went against me ; it seemed dark and dangerous
and secret ; and presently, as we began to go on along-
side, I saw the steel butt of a pistol sticking from under
the flap of his coat-pocket. To carry such a thing
meant a fine of fifteen pounds sterling upon a first of-
fence, and transportation to the colonies upon a second.
Nor could 1 quite see why a religious teacher should go
armed, or what a blind man could be doing with a pistol.

I told him about my guide, for I was proud of what
I had done, and my vanity for once got the heels of my
prudence. At the mention of the five shillings he cried
out so loud that I made up my mind I should say noth-
ing of the other two, and was glad he could not see my
blushes.

" Was it too much ? " I asked, a little faltering.

"Too much !" cries he. "Why, I will guide you to
Torosay myself for a dram of brandy. And give you

150 KIDNAPPED.

the great pleasure of my company (me tliat is a man of
some learning) in the bargain."

I said I did not see how a blind man could be a
guide ; but at that he laughed aloud, and said his stick
was eyes enough for an eagle.

" In the Isle of Mull, at least," says he, " where I
knew every stone and heatherbush by mark of head.
See, now," he said striking right and left, as if to make
sure, "down there a burn is running ; and at the head
of it there stands a bit of a small hill with a stone
cooked upon the top of that ; and it's hard at the foot
of the hill, that the way runs by to Torosay ; and the
way here, being for droves, is plainly trodden, and will
show grassy through the heather."

I had to own he was right in every feature, and told
my wonder.

" Ha ! " says he, " that's nothing. "Would ye believe
me now, that before the Act came out, and "when there
were weepons in this country, I could shoot ? Ay,
could I ! " cries he, and then with a leer : " If ye had
such a thing as a pistol here to try with, I would show
ye how it's done."

I told him I had nothing of the sort, and gave him
a wider berth. If he had known, his pistol stuck at
that time quite plainly out of his pocket, and I could
see the sun twinkle on the steel of the butt. But by
the better luck for me, he knew nothing, thought all
was covered, and lied on in the dark.

KIDNAPPED. 151

He then began to question me cunningly, where I
came from, whether I was ricli, whether I couhl cliange
a five-shilling piece for him (which he declared he had
at that moment in his sporran), and all the time he
kept edging up to me, and I avoiding him. We were
now upon a sort of green cattle-track which crossed the
hills towards Torosay, and we kept changing sides upon
that like dancers in a reel. I had so plainly the upper
hand that my spirits rose, and indeed I took a pleasure
in this game of blind-man's-buff ; but the catecliist
grew angrier and angrier, and at last began to swear in
Gaelic and to strike for ray legs with his staff.

Then I told him that, sure enough, I had a pistol in
my pocket as well as he, and if he did not strike across
the hill due south I would even blow his brains out.

He became at once very polite ; and after trying to
soften me for some time, but quite in vain, he cursed
me once more in the Gaelic and took himself off. I
watched him striding along, through bog and briar,
tapping with his stick, until he turned the end of a hill
and disappeared in the next hollow. Then I struck on
again for Torosay, much better pleased to be alone than
to travel with that man of learning. This was an un-
lucky day ; and these two, of whom I had just rid my-
self, one after the othei', were the two worst men I met
with in the Highlands.

At Torosay, on the Sound of Mull and looking over
to the mainland of Morven, there was an inn with an

152 KIDNAPPED.

innkeeper, who w;is a Maclean, it appeared, of a very
high family ; for to keep an inn is thought even more
genteel in the Highlands than it is with us, perliaps
as ])artaking of hospitality, or perhaps because the
trade is idle and drunken. He spoke good English, and
finding me to be something of a scholar, ti'ied me first
in French, where he easily beat me, and then in Latin,
in which I don't know wliich of us did best. This
pleasant rivalry put us at once upon friendly terms ;
and I sat up and drank punch with him (or, to be more
correct, sat up and watched him drink it) until he was
so tipsy that he wept upon my shoulder.

I tried him, as if by accident, with a sight of Alan's
button ; but it was plain he had never seen or heard of
it. Indeed, he bore some grudge against the family and
friends of Ardshiel, and before he was drunk he read
me a lampoon, in very good Latin, but with a very ill
meaning, which he had made in elegiac verses upon a
person of that house.

When I told him of my catechist, he shook his head,
and said I was lucky to have got clear off. " That is a
very dangerous man," he said ; "Duncan Mackiegh is
his name ; he can shoot by the ear at several yards, and
has been often accused of highway robberies, and once
of murder."

" The cream of it is," says I, " that he called himself
a catechist."

"And why should he not?" says he, "when that is

KIDNAPPED. 153

what he is ? It was Maclean of Duart gave it to him
because he was blind. But, perhaps, it was a peety,"
says my host, "for he is always on the road, going from
one place to aiiother to hear the young folk say their re-
ligion ; and doubtless, that is a great temptation to the
poor man.''

At last, when my landlord could drink no more, he
showed me to a bed, and I lay down in very good
spirits ; having travelled the greater ]iart of that big and
crooked Island of Mull, from Earraid to Torosay, fifty
miles as the crow flies, and (with my wanderings) much
nearer a hundred, in four days and with little fatigue.
Indeed, I was by far in better heart and health of body
at the end of that long tramp than I hud been at the
beginning.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE LAD WITH THE SILVER BUTTON: ACROSS MORVEN.

There is a regular ferry from Torosay to Kiiiloelialine
on the mainland. Both shores of the Sound are in the
country of the strong clan of the Macleans, and the
people that passed the ferry with me were almost all of
that clan. The skipper of the hoat, on the other hand,
was called Neil Roy Macroh ; and since Macrob was one
of the names of Alan's clansmen, and Alan himself had
sent me to that ferry, I was eager to come to private
speech of Neil Roy.

In the crowded boat this was of course impossible,
and the passage was a very slow affair. There was no
wind, and as the boat was wretchedly equipped, we
could pull but two oars on one side, and one on the
other. The men gave way, however, with a good will,
the passengers taking spells to help them, and the whole
company giving the time in Gaelic boat-songs. And
what with the songs, and the sea air, and the good
nature and spirit of all concerned, and the bright
weather, the passage was a pretty thing to have seen.

But there was one melancholy part. In the mouth
of Loch Aline we found a great sea-going ship at

KIDNAPPED. 155

anchor ; and this I supposed at first to be one of the
King's cruisers which were kept along that coast, both
summer and winter, to prevent communication with tlie
French. As we got a little nearer, it became plain she
was a ship of merchandise ; and what still more puzzled
me, not only her decks, but the sea-beach also, were
quite black with people, and skiffs were continually
plying to and fro between them. Yet nearer, and there
began to come to our ears a great sound of mourning,
the people on board and those on the shore crying and
lamenting one to another so as to pierce the heart.

Then I understood this was an emigrant ship bound
for the American colonies.

We put the ferry-boat alongside, and the exiles leaned
over the bulwarks, weeping and reaching out their
hands to my fellow-passengers, among whom they
counted some near friends. How long this might have
gone on I do not know, for they seemed to have no
sense of time : but at last the captain of the ship, who
seemed near beside himself (and no great wonder) in the
midst of this crying and confusion, came to the side
and begged us to depart.

Thereupon Neil sheered of ; and the chief singer in
our boat struck into a melancholy air, which was pres-
ently taken up both by the emigrants and their friends
upon the beach, so that it sounded from all sides like a
lament for the dying. I saw the tears run down the
cheeks of the men and women in the boat, even as they

156 KIDNAPPED.

bent at the oars ; and the circumstances, and the music
of the song (which is one called " Lochaber no more ")
were highly affecting even to myself.

At Kinlochaline I got Neil Roy upon one side on
the beach, and said I made sure he was one of Appin's
men.

" And what for no ? " said he.

" I am seeking somebody," said I ; " and it comes in
my mind that you will have news of him. Alan Breck
Stewart is his name." And very foolishly, instead of
showing him the button, I sought to pass a shilling in
his hand.

At this he drew back. " I am very much affronted,"
he said ; "and this is not the way that one shentleman
should behave to another at all. The man you ask for
is in France ; but if he was in my sporran," says he,
" and your belly full of shillings, I would not hurt a
hair upon his body."

I saw I had gone the wrong way to work, and with-
out wasting time upon apologies, showed him the but-
ton lying in the hollow of my palm.

" Aweel, aweel," said Neil ; "and I think ye might
have begun with that end of the stick, whatever ! But
if ye are the lad with the silver button, all is well, and
I have the word to sec that ye come safe. But if ye
will pardon me to speak plainly," says he, "there is a
name that you should never take into your mouth, and
that is the name of Alan Breck ; and there is a thing

KIDNAPPED. 157

that ye would never do, and that is to offer your dirty
money to a Hieland shentleman."

It was not very easy to aj^ologise ; for I could scarce
tell him (what was the truth) that I had never dreamed
he would set up to be a gentleman until he told me so.
Neil on his part had no wish to prolong his dealings
with me, only to fulfil his orders and be done with it ;
and he made haste to give me my route. This was to
lie the night in Kinlochaline in the public inn ; to cross
Morven the next day to Ardgour, and lie the night in
the house of one John of the Claymore, who was warned
that I might come ; the third day, to be set across one
loch at Corran and another at Balachulish, and then ask
my way to the house of James of the Glens, at Aucharn
in Duror of Appin. There was a good deal of ferrying
as you hear ; the sea in all this part running deep into
the mountains and winding about their roots. It makes
the country strong to hold and difficult to travel, but
full of prodigious wild and dreadful prospects.

I had some other advice from Neil ; to speak with
no one by the way, to avoid Whigs, Campbells, and the
"red soldiers;" to leave the road and lie in a bush, if
I saw any of the latter coming " for it was never chancy
to meet in with them ; " and in brief, to conduct my-
self like a robber or a Jacobite agent, as perhaps Neil
thought me.

The inn at Kinlochaline was the most beggarly, vile
place that ever pigs were styed in, full of smoke, vermin.

158 KIDNAPPED.

and silent Highhmders. I was not only discontented
with my lodging, but with myself for my mismanage-
ment of Neil, and thought I could hardly be worse oif.
But very wrongl}', as I was soon to see ; for I had not
been half-an-hour at the inn (standing at the door most
of the time, to ease my eyes from the peat smoke) when
a thunderstorm came close by, the springs broke in a
little hill on which the inn stood, and one end of the
house became a running water. Places of public enter-
tainment were bad enough all over Scotland in those
days ; yet it was a wonder to myself, when I had to go
from the fireside to the bed in which I slept, wading
over the shoes.

Early in my next day's journey, I overtook a little,
stout, solemn man, walking very slowly with his toes
turned out, sometimes reading in a book and sometimes
marking the place with his finger, and dressed decently
and plainly in something of a clerical style.

This I found to be another catechist, but of a dif-
ferent order from the blind man of Mull : being indeed
one of those sent out by the Edinburgh Society for
Propagating Christian Knowledge, to evangelise the
more savage places of the Highlands. His name was
Henderland ; he spoke with the broad south-country
tongue, which I was beginning to weary for the sound
of ; and besides common countryship, we soon found
we had a more ])articular bond of interest. For my
good friend, the minister of Essendean, had translated

KIDNAPPED. 159

into the Gaelic in his by-time a number of hymns and
pious books, which Henderland used in his work and
held in great esteem. Indeed it was one of these he
was carrying and reading when we met.

We fell in company at once, our ways lying together
as far as to Kingairloch. As we went, he stopped and
spoke with all the wayfarers and workers that we met
or passed ; and though of course 1 could not tell what
they discoursed about, yet I judged Mr. Henderland
must be well liked in the countryside, for I observed
many of them to bring out their mulls and share a pinch
of snuff with him.

I told him as far in my affairs as I judged Avise : as
far, that is, as they were none of Alan's ; and gave
Balachulish as the place I was travelling to, to meet
a friend ; for I thought Aucharn, or even Duror,
would be too particular and might put him on the
scent.

On his part, he told me much of his work and the
people he worked among, the hiding priests and Jacob-
ites, the Disarming Act, the dress, and many other
curiosities of the time and place. He seemed moderate :
blaming Parliament in several points, and especially
because they had framed the Act more severely against
those who wore the dress than against those who carried
weapons.

This moderation put it in my mind to question him
of the Red Fox and the Appin tenants: questions which,

160 KIDNAPPED.

I thought, would seem natural enough in the mouth of
one travelling to that country.

He said it was a bad business. "It's wonderful,"
said he, " where the tenants find the money, for their
life is mere starvation. (Ye don't carry such a thing
as snuff, do ye, Mr. Balfour ? ISTo. Well, I'm better
wanting it.) But these tenants (as I was saying) are
doubtless partly driven to it. James Stewart in Duror
(that's him they call James of the Glens) is half-
brother to Ardshiel, the captain of the clan ; and he is
a man much looked up to, and drives very hard. And
then there's one they call Alan Breck "

"Ah !" cried I, "what of him ?"

"What of the wind that bloweth where it listeth ?"
said Henderland. " He's here and awa ; here to-day
and gone to-morrow : a fair heather-cat. He might be
glowering at the two of us out of yon whin-bush, and
I wouldnae wonder ! Ye'll no carry such a thing as
snufF, will ye ? "

I told him no, and that he had asked the same thing
more than once.

"It's highly possible," said he, sighing. "But it
seems strange ye shouldnae carry it. However, as I
was saying, this Alan Breck is a bold, desperate cus-
tomer, and well kent to be James's riglit hand. His
life is forfeit already ; he would boggle at naething ;
and maybe, if a tenant-body was to hang back, he
would get a dirk in his wame."

KIDNAPPED. 161

"You make a poor story of it all, Mr. Henderland,"
said I. " If it is all fear upon both sides, I care to hear
no more of it."

" Na," said Mr. Henderland, " but there's love too,
and self-denial that should put the like of you and me
to shame. There's something fine about it ; no perhap
Christian, but humanly fine. Even Alan Breck, by all
that I hear, is a chield to be respected. There's many a
lying sneck-draw sits close in kirk in our own part of
the country, and stands well in the world's eye, and
maybe is a far worse man, Mr. Balfour, than yon mis-
guided shedder of man's blood. Ay, ay, we might
take a lesson by them. — Ye'll perhaps think I've been
too long in the Hielands ? " he added, smiling to me.

I told him not at all ; that I had seen much to ad-
mire among the Highlanders ; and if he came to that,
Mr. Campbell himself was a Highlander.

"Ay," said he, " that's true. It's a fine blood."

" And what is the King's agent about ?" I asked.

" Colin Campbell ?" says Henderland. " Putting his
head in a bees' byke ! "

"He is to turn the tenants out by force, I hear?"
said I.

"Yes," says he, "but the business has gone back
and forth, as folk say. First, James of the Glens rode
to Edinburgh and got some lawyer (a Stewart, n^i'^ -■■'
— they all hing together like bats in a steeple)
the proceedings stayed. And then Colin Camp
11

162 KIDNAPPED.

in again, and had ihe upper hand before the Barons of
Exchequer. And now they tell me the first of the
tenants are to flit to-morrow. It's to begin at Duror
under James's very windows, which doesnae seem wise
by my humble way of it."

'' Do you think they'll fight ? " I asked.

"Well," says Henderland, "they're disarmed — or
supposed to be— for there's still a good deal of cold iron
lying by in quiet places. And then Colin Campbell has
the sogers coming. But for all that, if I was his lady
wife, I wouldnae be well jileased till I got liim home
again. They're queer customers, the Appin Stewarts."

I asked if they were worse than their neighbours.

"N^o they," said he. "And that's the worst part of
it. For if Colin Roy can get his business done in Ap-
pin, he has it all to begin again in the next country,
which they call Mamore, and Avhich is one of the coun-
tries of the Camerons. He's King's factor upon both,
and from both he has to drive out the tenants ; and
indeed, Mr. Balfour (to be open with ye) it's my belief
that if he escapes the one lot, he'll get his death by the
other."

So we continued talking and walking the great part
of tlie day ; until at last, Mr. Henderland, after express-
ing his delight in my company, and satisfaction at
meeting with a friend of Mr. Campbell's ("whom,"
says he, " I will make bold to call that sweet singer of
our covenanted Zion "), proposed that I should make a

KIDNAPPED. 163

short stage, and lie the night in his house a little be-
yond Kingairloch. To say truth, I was overjoyed ; for
I had no great desire for John of the Claymore, and
since my double misadventure, first with the guide and
next with the gentleman skipper, I stood in some fear
of any Highland stranger. Accordingly, we shook hands
upon the bargain, and came in the afternoon to a small
house, standing alone by the shore of the Linnhe Loch.
The sun was already gone from the desert mountains of
Ardgour upon the hither side, but shone on those of
Appin on the farther ; the loch lay as still as a lake,
only the gulls were crying round the sides of it ; and
the whole place seemed solemn and uncouth.

We had no sooner come to the door of Mr. Hender-
land's dwelling, than to my great surprise (for I was
now used to the politeness of Highlanders) he burst
rudely past me, dashed into the room, caught up a jar
and a small horn spoon, and began ladling snuff into his
nose in most excessive quantities. Then he had a hearty
fit of sneezing, and looked round upon me with a rather
silly smile.

"It's a vow I took," says he. "I took a vow upon
me that I would nae carry it. Doubtless it's a gi'eat pri-
vation ; but when I think upon the martyrs, not only to
the Scottish Covenant but to other points of Christian-
ity, I think shame to mind it."

As soon as we had eaten (and porridge and whey was
the best of the good man's diet) he took a grave face and

164 KIDNAPPED.

said he had a dnty to perform by Mr. Campbell, and
that was to inquire into my state of mind towards God.
I was inclined to smile at him, since the business of the
snuff ; but he had not spoken long before he brought
the tears into my eyes. There are two things that men
should never weary of, goodness and humility ; we get
none too much of them in this rough world and among
cold, proud people ; but Mr. Henderland had their very
speech upon his tongue. And though I was a good deal
puffed up with my adventures and with having come
off, as the saying is, with flying colours ; yet he soon had
me on my knees beside a simple, poor old man, and
both proud and glad to be there.

Before we went to bed he offered me sixpence to help
me on my way, out of a scanty store he kept in the turf
wall of his house ; at which excess of goodness I knew
not what to do. But at last he was so earnest with me,
that I thought it the more mannerly part to let him
have his way, and so loft him poorer than myself.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE DEATH OF THE EED FOX.

The next day Mr. Henderland found for me a man
who had a boat of his own and was to cross the Linnhe
Loch that afternoon into Appin, fishing. Him he pre-
vailed on to take me, for he was one of his flock ; and
in this way I saved a long day's travel and the price of
the two public ferries I must otherwise have passed.

It was near noon before we set out ; a dark day, with
clouds, and the sun shining upon little patches. The
sea was here very deep and still, and had scarce a wave
upon it ; so that I must put the water to my lips before
I could believe it to be truly salt. The mountains on
either side were high, rough, and barren, very black and
gloomy in the shadow of the clouds, but all silver-laced
with little watercourses where the sun shone upon them.
It seemed a hard country, this of Appin, for people to
care as much about as Alan did.

There was but one thing to mention. A little after
we had started, the sun shone upon a little moving
clump of scarlet close in along the waterside to the
north. It was much of the same red as soldiers' coats ;

166 KIDNAPPED.

every now and then, too, there came little sparks and
lightnings, as though the sun had struck upon bright
steel.

I asked my boatman what it should be ; and he
answered he supposed it was some of the red soldiers
coming from Fort William into Appin, against the poor
tenantry of the country. Well, it was a sad sight to
me ; and whether it was because of my thoughts of
Alan, or from something prophetic in my bosom,
although this was but the second time I had seen King
George's troops, I had no good will to them.

At last we came so near the point of land at the enter-
ing in of Loch Leven that I begged to be set on shore.
My boatman (who was an honest fellow and mindful of
his promise to the catechist) would fain have carried me
on to Balachulish ; but as this was to take me farther
from my secret destination, I insisted, and was set on
shore at last under the wood of Lettermore (or Letter-
vore, for I have heard it both ways) in Alan's country
of Appin.

This was a wood of birches, growing on a steep,
craggy side of a mountain that overhung the loch. It
had many openings and ferny dells ; and a road or
bridle track ran north and south through the midst of
it, by the edge of which, where was a spring, I sat
down to eat some oat-bread of Mr. Henderland's and
think upon my situation.

Here I was not only troubled by a cloud of stinging

KIDNAPPED. 167

midges, but far more by the doubts of my mind. What
I ought to do, why I was going to Join myself with an
outlaw and a would-be murderer like Alan, whether I
should not be acting more like a man of sense to tramp
back to the south country direct, by my own guidance
and at my own charges, and what Mr. Campbell or
even Mr. Henderland would think of me if they should
ever learn my folly and presumption : these were the
doubts that now began to come in on me stronger than
ever.

As I was so sitting and thinking, a sound of men
and horses came to me through the wood ; and presently
after, at a turning of the road, I saw four travellers come
into view. The way was in this part so rough and
narrow that they came single and led their horses by
the reins. The first was a great, red-headed gentleman,
of an imperious and flushed face, who carried his hat in
his hand and fanned himself, for he was in a breathing
heat. The second, by his decent black garb and white
wig, I correctly took to be a lawyer. The third was a
servant, and wore some part of his clothes in tartan,
which showed that his master was of a Highland family,
and either an outlaw or else in singular good odour with
the Government, since the wearing of tartan was against
the Act. If I had been better versed in these things, I
would have known the tartan to be of the Argyle (or
Campbell) colours. This servant had a good-sized port-
manteau strapped on his horse, and a net of lemons (to

168 KIDNAPPED,

brew punch with) hanging at the saddle-bow ; as was
often enough the custom with luxurious travellers in
that part of the country.

As for the fourth, who brought up the tail, I had
seen his like before, and knew him at once to be a
sheriff's officer.

I had no sooner seen these people coming than I
made up my mind (for no reason that I can tell) to go
through with my adventure ; and when the first came
alongside of me, I rose up from the bracken and asked
him the way to Aucharn.

He stopped and looked at me, as I thought, a little
oddly; and then, turning to the lawyer, "Mungo," said
he, '^ there's many a man would think this more of a
warning than two pyats. Here am I on my road to
Duror on the job ye ken ; and here is a young lad stai-ts
up out of the bracken, and speers if I am on the way to
Aucharn."

^'Glenure," said the other, "this is an ill subject for
jesting."

These two had now drawn close up and were gazing
at me, while the two followers had halted about a stone-
cast in the reai\

" And what seek ye in Aucharn ? " said Colin Roy
Campbell of Glenure ; him they called the Red Fox ;
for he it was that I had stopped.

"The man that lives there," said I.

"James of the Glens?" says Glenure, musingly; and

KIDNAPPED. 169

then to the lawyer : " Is he gathering his people, think
ye?"

''Anyway," says the lawyer, ''we shall do better to
bide where we are, and let the soldiers rally us."

"If you are concerned for me," said I, "I am
neither of his jieople nor yours, but an honest subject
of King George, owing no man and fearing no man."

"Why, very well said," replies the Factor. "But
if I may make so bold as ask, what does this honest
man so far from his country ? and why does he come
seeking the brother of Ardshiel ? I have power here, I
must tell you. I am King's Factor upon several of
these estates, and have twelve files of soldiers at my
back."

"I have heard a waif word in the country," said I,
a little nettled, "that you were a hard man to drive."

He still kept looking at me, as if in doubt.

"Well," said he, at last, "your tongue is bold ; but
I am no unfriend to plainness. If ye had asked me the
way to the door of James Stewart on any other day but
this, I would have set ye right and bidden ye God
speed. But to-day— eh, Mungo ? " And he turned
again to look at the lawyer.

But Just as he turned there came the shot of a fire-
lock from higher up the hill; and with the very sound
of it Glenure fell upon the road.

" 0, I am dead !" he cried, several times over.

Tlie lawyer had caught him up and held him in his

170 KIDNAPPED,

arms, the servant standing over and clasping his hands.
And now the wounded man looked from one to another
with scared eyes, and there was a change in his voice
til at went to the heart.

" Take care of yourselves," says he. " I am dead."

He tried to open his clothes as if to look for the
wound, hut his fingers slipped on the buttons. With
that he gave a great sigh, his head rolled on his
shoulder, and he passed away.

The lawyer said never a word, but his face was as
sharp as a pen and as white as the dead man's ; the
servant broke out into a great noise of crying and weep-
ing, like a child ; and I, on my side, stood staring at
them in a kind of horror. The sheriff's officer had run
back at the first sound of the shot, to hasten the coming
of the soldiers.

At last the lawyer laid down the dead man in his
blood upon the road, and got to his own feet with a
kind of stagger.

I believe it was his movement that brought me to my
seuses ; for he had no sooner done so than I began to
scramble up the hill, crying out, " The murderer ! the
murderer."

So little a time had elapsed, that when I got to the
top of the first steepness, and could see some part of the
open mountain, the murderer was still moving away at
no great distance. He was a big man, in a black coat,
with metal buttons, and carried a long fowling-piece.

KIDNAPPED. 171

" Here ! " I cried. " I see him ! "

At that the murderer gave a little, quick look over
his shoulder, and began to run. The next moment he
was lost in a fringe of birches ; then he came out again
on the upper side, where I could see him climbing like
a Jackanapes, for that part was again very steep ; and
then he dipped behind a shoulder, and I saw him no
more.

All this time I had been running on my side, and had
got a good way up, when a voice cried upon me to stand.

I was at the edge of the upper wood, and so now,
when I halted and looked back, I saw all the open part
of the hill below me. The lawyer and the sheriff's officer
were standing Just above the road, crying and waving
on me to come back ; and on their left, the red-coats,
musket in hand, were beginning to struggle singly out
of the lower wood.

'' Why should I come back ? " I cried. " Come you
on ! "

"Ten pounds if ye take that lad ! " cried the lawyer.
" He's an accomplice. He was posted here to hold us
in talk."

At that word (which I could hear quite plainly,
though it was to the soldiers and not to me that he was
crying it) my heart came in my mouth with quite a new
kind of terror. Indeed, it is one thing to stand the
danger of your life, and quite another to run the peril
of both life and character. The thing, besides, hud

172 KIDNAPPED.

come so suddenly, like thunder out of a clear sky, that
I was all amazed and helpless.

The soldiers began to spread, some of them to run,
and others to put up their pieces and cover me ; and still
I stood.

" Jouk* in here among the trees," said a voice, close

by.

Indeed, I scarce knew what I was doing, but I
obeyed ; and as I did so, I heard the firelocks bang and
the balls whistle in the birches.

Just inside the shelter of the trees I found Alan
Breck standing, with a fishing-rod. He gave me no
salutation ; indeed it was no time for civilities ; only
"Come !" says he, and set off running along the side of
the mountain towards Balachulish ; and I, like a sheep,
to follow him.

Now we ran among the birches ; now stooping be-
hind low humps upon the mountain side ; now crawling
on all-fours among the heather. The pace was deadly ;
my heart seemed bursting against my ribs ; and I had
neither time to think nor breath to speak with. Only I
remember seeing with wonder, that Alan every now and
then would straighten himself to his full height and
look back ; and every time he did so, there came a great
far-away cheering and crying of the soldiers.

Quarter of an hour later, Alan stopped, clapped down
flat in the heather, and turned to me.
*Duck.

KIDNAPPED. 173

"Now," said he, " it's earnest. Do as I do for yonr
life."

And at the same speed, but now with infinitely more
precaution, we traced back again across the mountain
side by the same way that we had come, only perhaps
higher ; till at last Alan threw himself down in the
upper wood of Lettermore, where I had found him at the
first, and lay, with his face in the bracken, panting like
a dog.

My own sides so ached, my head so swam, my tongue
so hung out of my mouth with heat and dryness, that I
lay beside him like one dead.

CHAPTER XVIII.

I TALK WITH ALAN IN THE WOOD OF LETTEEMOEE.

Alax was the first to come round. He rose, went to
the border of the wood, peered out a little, and then
returned and sat down.

"Well," said he, "yon was a hot burst, David."

I said nothing, nor so much as lifted my face. I had
seen murder done, and a great, ruddy, jovial gentleman
struck out of life in a moment; the pity of that sight
was still sore within me, and yet that was but a part of
my concern. Here was murder done upon the man
Alan hated; here was Alan skulking in the trees and
running from the troops ; and whether his was the hand
that fired or only the head, that ordered, signified but
little. By my way of it, my only friend in that wild
country was blood-guilty in the first degree ; I held him
in horror ; I could not look upon his face ; I would
have rather lain alone in the rain on my cold isle, than
in that warm wood beside a murderer.

"Are ye still wearied ?" he asked again.

"No," said I, still with my face in the bracken ;
"no, I am not wearied now, and I can speak. You and
me must twine," * I said. " I liked you very well, Alan;
* Part.

KIDNAPPED, 176

but your ways are not mine, and they're not God's ; and
the short and the long of it is Just that we must twine."

*' I will hardly twine from ye, David, without some
kind of reason for the same," said Alan, mighty gravely.
" If ye ken anything against my reputation, it's the
least thing that ye should do, for old acquaintance sake,
to let me hear the name of it ; and if ye have only taken
a distaste to my society, it will be proper for me to
judge if I'm insulted."

'' Alan," said I, "what is the sense of this ? Ye ken
very well yon Campbell-man lies in his blood upon the
road."

He was silent for a little ; then says he, " Did ever ye
hear tell of the story of the Man and the Good Peo-
ple ? " — by which he meant the fairies.

*' ISTo," said I, " nor do I want to hear it."

" With your permission, Mr. Balfour, I will tell it
you, whatever," says Alan. " The man, ye should ken,
was cast upon a rock in the sea, where it appears the
Good People were in use to come and rest as they went
through to Ireland. The name of this rock is called the
Skerry vore, and it's not far from where we suffered ship-
wreck. Well, it seems the man cried so sore, if he
could just see his little bairn before he died ! that at
last the king of the Good People took peety upon him,
and sent one flying that brought back the bairn in a
poke* and laid it down beside the man where he lay
*Bag.

176 KIDNAPPED.

sleeping. So when the man woke, there was a poke
beside him and something into the inside of it that
moved. Well, it seems he was one of these gentry
that think aye the worst of things ; and for greater
security, he stuck his dirk throughout that jDoke before
he opened it, and there was his bairn dead. I am
thinking to myself, Mr. Balfour, that you and the man
are very much alike."

"Do you mean you had no hand in it ?" cried I,
sitting up.

" I will tell you first of all, Mr. Balfour of Shaws,
as one friend to another," said Alan, ''that if I were
going to kill a gentleman, it would not be in my own
country, to bring trouble on my clan ; and I would not
go wanting sword and gun, and with a long fishing-rod
upon my back."

" Well," said I, " that's true ! "

" And now," continued Alan, taking out his dirk and
laying his hand upon it in a certain manner, " I swear
upon the Holy Iron I had neither art nor part, act nor
thought in it."

" I thank God for that !" cried I, and offered him my
hand.

He did not appear to see it.

"And here is a great deal of work about a Camp-
bell ! " said he. " They are not so scarce, that I ken ! "

" At least," said I, " you cannot justly blame me, for
you know very well what you told me in the brig. But

KIDNAPPED. 177

the temptation and the act are different, I thank God
again for that. We may all be tempted ; but to take a
life in cold blood, Alan ! " And I could say no more
for the moment. " And do yon know who did it ? " I
added. '* Do you know that man in the black coat ? "

" I have nae clear mind about his coat," said Alan,
cunningly ; " but it sticks in my head that it was
blue."

''' Blue or black, did ye know him ?" said I.

" I couldnae just conscientiously swear to him," says
Alan. "He gaed very close by me, to be sure, but it's
a strange thing that I should Just have been tying my
brogues." .

" Can you swear that you don't know him, Alan ? "
I cried, half angered, half in a mind to laugh at his
evasions.

"Not yet," says he ; "but I've a grand memory for
forgetting, David."

" And yet there was one thing I saw clearly," said I ;
" and that was, that you exposed yourself and me to
draw the soldiers."

" It's very likely," said Alan ; " and so would any
gentleman. You and me were innocent of that trans-
action."

" The better reason, since we were falsely suspected,
that we should get clear," I cried. " Tlie innocent
should surely come before the guilty,"

" Why, David," said he, " the innocent have aye a
12

178 KIDNAPPED.

chance to get assoiled in court ; but for the lad that
shot the bullet, I think the best place for him will be
the heather. Them that havcnae dipped their hands in
any little difficulty, should be very mindful of the case
of them that have. And that is the good Christianity.
For if it was the other way round about, and the lad
whom I couldnae just clearly see had been in our shoes,
and we in his (as might very well have been), I think we
would be a good deal obliged to him oursel's if he
would draw the soldiers."

AVhen it came to this, I gave Alan up. But he
looked so innocent all the time, and was in such clear
good faith in what he said, and so ready to sacrifice
himself for what he deemed his duty, that my mouth
was closed. Mr. Henderland's words came back to me :
that we ourselves might take a lesson by these wild
Highlanders. Well, here I had taken mine. Alan's
morals were all tail-first ; but he was ready to give his
life for them, such as they were.

"Alan," said I, 'Til not say it's the good Chris-
tianity as I understand it, but it's good enough. And
here I offer ye my hand for the second time."

Whereupon he gave me both of his, saying surely I
had cast a spell upon him, for he could forgive me any-
thing. Then he grew very grave, and said we had not
much time to throw away, but must both flee that
country : he, because he was a deserter, and the whole of
Appin would now be searched like a chamber, and every

KIDNAPPED. 179

one obliged to give a good account of himself ; and I,
because I was certainly involved in tlie murder.

" 0 ! " says I, willing to give him a little lesson,
"I have no fear of the justice of my country."

" As if this was your country!" said he. "Or as
if ye would be tried hero, in a country of Stewarts ! "

''It's all Scotland," said I.

"Man, I whiles wonder at ye," said Alan. "This
is a Campbell that's been killed. Well, it'll be tried in
Inverara, the Campbell's head place ; with fifteen Camp-
bells in the jury-box, and the biggest Campbell of all
(and that's the Duke) sitting cocking on the bench.
Justice, David ? The same justice, by all the world, as
Glenure found a while ago at the roadside."

This frighted me a little, I confess, and would
have frighted me more if I had known how nearly
exact were Alan's predictions ; indeed it was but in one
point that he exaggerated, there being but eleven Camp-
bells on the jury ; though as the other four were equally
in the Duke's dependance, it mattered less than might
appear. Still, I cried out that he was unjust to the
Duke of Argyle, who (for all he was a Whig) was yet a
wise and honest nobleman.

"Hoot!" said Alan, "the man's a Whig, nae
doubt ; but I would never deny he was a good chieftain
to his clan. And what Avould the clan think if there
was a Campbell shot, and naebody hanged, and their
own chief the Justice General ? But I have often

180 KIDNAPPED.

observed," says Alan, "that you Low country bodies
have no clear idea of Avhat's right and wrong."

At this I did at last laugh out aloud ; when to
my surprise, Alan joined in and laughed, as merrily as
myself.

''Na, na," said he, "we're in the Hielands, David;
and when I tell ye to run, take my word and run. Nae
doubt it's a hard thing to skulk and starve in the
heather, but it's harder yet to lie shackled in a red-
coat prison."

I asked him whither we should flee ;. and as he told
me " to the Lowlands," I was a little better inclined to
go with him ; for indeed I was growing impatient to get
back and have the upper hand of my uncle. Besides
Alan made so sure there would be no question of Justice
in the matter, that I began to be afraid he might be
right. Of all deaths, I would truly like least to die
by the gallows ; and the picture of that uncanny instru-
ment came into my head with extraordinaiy clearness
(as I had once seen it engraved at the top of a ped-
lar's ballad) and took away my appetite for courts of
Justice.

"I'll chance it, Alan," said L " I'll go Avith you."

"But mind you," said Alan, "it's no small thing.
Ye maun lie bare and hard, and brook many an empty
belly. Your bed shall be the moorcock's, and your life
shall be like the hunted deer's, and ye shall sleep with
your hand upon your weapon. Ay, man, ye shall taigle

KIDNAPPED. 181

many a weary foot, or we get clear ! I tell ye this at
the start, for its a life that I ken well. But if ye ask
what other chance ye have, I answer : Naue. Either
take to the heather with me, or else hang."

"And that's a choice very easily made," said I ; and
we shook hands upon it.

" And now let's take another keek at the red-coats,"
says Alan, and he led me to the north-eastern fringe of
the wood.

Looking out between the trees, we could see a great
side of mountain, running down exceeding steep into
the waters of the loch. It was a rough part, all hanging
stone, and heather, and bit scrags of birch wood ; and
away at the far end towards Balachulish, little wee red
soldiers were dipping up and down over hill and howe,
and growing smaller every minute. There was no
cheering now, for I think they had other uses for what
breath was left them ; but they still stuck to the trail,
and doubtless thought that we were close in front of
them.

Alan watched them, smiling to himself.

'' Ay," said he, "they'll be gey weary before they've
got to the end of that employ ! And so you and me,
David, can sit down and eat a bite, and breathe a bit
longer, and take a dram from my bottle. Then we'll
strike for Aucharn, the house of my kinsman, James of
the Glens, where I must get my clothes, and my arms,
and money to carry us along ; and then, David, we'll

182 KIDNAPPED.

cry ' Forth, Fortune ! ' and take a cast among the
heather."

So we sat again and ate and drank, in a place whence
we could see the sun going down into a field of great,
wild and houseless mountains, such as I was now con-
demned to wander in with my companion. Partly as
we so sat, and partly afterwards, on the way to Au-
charn, each of ns narrated his adventures ; and I shall
here set down so much of Alan's as seems either curious
or needful.

It appears he ran to the bulwarks as soon as the wave
was passed ; saw me, and lost me, and saw me again, as
I tumbled in the roost ; and at last had one glimpse
of me clinging on the yard. It was this that put him in
some hope I would maybe get to land after all, and made
him leave these clues and messages which had brought
me (for my sins) to that unlucky country of Appin.

In the meanwhile, those still on the brig had got the
skiff launched, and one or two were on board of her
already, when there came a second wave greater than
the first, and heaved the brig out of her place, and
would certainly have sent her to the bottom, had she
not struck and caught on some projection of the reef.
Wlien she had struck first, it had been bows-on, so that
the stern had hitherto been lowest. But now her stern
was thrown in the air, and the bows plunged under the
sea ; and with that, the water began to pour into the
fore-scuttle like the pouring of a mill-dam.

KIDNAPPED. 183

It took the colour out of Alan's face, even to tell what
followed. For there were still two men lying impotent
in their bunks ; and these, seeing the water pour in and
thinking the ship had foundered, beguu to cry out
aloud, and that with such harrowing cries that all who
were on deck tumbled one after another into the skiff
and fell to their oars. They were not two hundred
yards away, when there came a third great sea ; and at
that the brig lifted clean over the reef ; her canvas
filled for a moment, and she seemed to sail in chase of
them, but settling all the while ; and presently she
drew down and down, as if a hand was drawing her ;
and the sea closed over the Covenant of Dysart.

Never a word they spoke as they pulled ashore, being
stunned with the horror of that screaming; but they
had scarce set foot upon the beach when Hoseason
■woke up, as if out of a muse, and bade them lay hands
upon Alan. Tiiey hung back indeed, having little taste
for the employment ; but Hoseason was like a fiend ;
crying that Alan was alone, that he had a great sum
about him, that he had been the means of losing the
brig and drowning all their comrades, and that here was
both revenge and wealth upon a single cast. It was
seven against one ; in that part of the shore there was
no rock that Alan could set his back to ; and the sailors
began to spread out and come behind him.

" And then," said Alan, " the little man with the red
head — I havenae mind of the name that he is called."

184 KIDNAPPED.

"Eiach/'saidl.

"Ay," said Alan, " Riacli ! Well, it was him that
took up the clubs for me, asked the meu if they wereuae
feared of a judgment, and says he, ' Dod, I'll put my
back to the Hieland man's mysel',' That's none such
an entirely bad little man, yon little man with the red
head," said Alan. ''He has some spunks of decency."

"Well," said I, "he was kind to me in his way."

"And so he was to Alan," said he ; "and by my
troth, I found his way a very good one ! But ye see,
David, the loss of the ship and the cries of these poor
lads sat very ill upon the man ; and I'm thinking that
would be tlie cause of it."

"Well, I would think so,"' said I ; "for he was as
keen as any of the rest at the beginning. But how did
Hoseason take it ? "

" It sticks in my mind that he would take it very
ill," says Alan. "But the little man cried to me to
run, and indeed I thought it was a good observe, and
ran. The last that I saw they wei-e all in a knot upon
the beach, like folk that were not agi-eeing very well
together. "

"What do you mean by that ?" said I.

"Well, the fists were going," said Alan; *'and I
saw one man go down like a pair of breeks. But I
thought it would be better no to wait. Ye see tliere's a
strip of Campbells in that end of Mull, which is no good
company for a gentleman like me. If it hadnae been for

KIDNAPPED. 185

that I would have waited and looked for ye mysel', lot
alone giving a hand to the little man." (It was droll
how Alan dwelt on Mr. Riach's stature, for, to say the
truth, the one was not much smaller than the other.)
" So," says he, continuing, " I set my best foot forward,
and whenever I met in with any one I cried out there
was a wreck ashore. Man, they didnae stop to fash
with me ! Ye should have seen them linking for the
beach ! And when they got there they found they had
had the pleasure of a run, which is aye good for a
Campbell. I'm thinking it was a judgment on the elan
that the brig went down in the lump and didnae break.
But it was a very unlucky thing for you, that same ; for
if any wreck had come ashore they would have hunted
high and low, and would soon have found ye."

CHAPTER XIX.

THE HOUSE OF FEAR.

Night fell as we were walking, and the clouds, wliicli
had broken up in the afternoon, settled in and thick-
ened, so that it fell, for the season of the year, extremely
dark. The way we went was over rough mountain
sides ; and though Alan pushed on with an assured
manner, I could by no means see how he directed
himself.

At last, about half-past ten of the clock, we came to
the top of a brae, and saw lights below us. It seemed
a house door stood open and let out a beam of fire and
candle light ; and all round the house and steading, five
or six persons were moving hurriedly about, each carry-
ing a lighted brand.

"James must have tint his wits," said Alan. "If
this was the soldiers instead of you and me he would be
in a bonny mess. But I daresay lie'll have a sentry on
the road, and he would ken well enough no soldiers
would find the way that we came."

Hereupon he whistled three times, in a particular
manner. It was strange to see how, at the first sound

KIDNAPPED. 187

of it, all the moving torches came to a stand, as if the
bearers were affrighted ; and how, at the tliird, the bus-
tle began again as before.

Having thus set folks' minds at rest, we came down
the brae, and were met at the yard gate (for this place
was like a well-doing farm) by a tall, handsome man of
more than fifty, who cried out to Alan in the Gaelic.

"James Stewart," said Alan, "I will ask ye to speak
in Scotch, for here is a young gentleman with me that
has nane of the other. This is him," he added, putting
his arm through mine, "a young gentleman of the low-
lands, and a laird in his country too, but I am thinking
it will be the better for his health if we give his name
the go-by. "

James of the Glens turned to me for a moment, and
greeted me courteously enough ; the next he had turned
to Alan.

''This has been a dreadful accident," he cried. "It
will bring trouble on the country." And he wrung his
hands.

''Hoots!" said Alan, "ye must take the sour with
the sweet, man. Colin Roy is dead, and be thankful for
that ! "

"Ay," said James, "and by my troth, I wish he was
alive again ! " It's all very fine to blow and boast be-
forehand ; but now it's done, Alan ; and who's to bear
the wyte* of it ? The accident fell out in Appin — mind
* Blame.

188 KIDNAPPED.

ye tliat, Alan ; it's Appin that must pay ; and I am a
man tliat has a family."

While this was going on, I looked about me at the
servants. Some were on ladders, digging in the thatch
of the house or the farm buildings, from which they
brought out guns, swords, and different weapons of war ;
others carried them away ; and by the sound of mattock
blows from somewhere further down the brae, I suppose
they buried them. Though they were all so busy, there
prevailed no kind of order in their efforts ; men strug-
gled together for the same gun and ran into each other
with their burning torches ; and James was continually
turning about from his talk with Alan, to cry out orders
which were apparently never understood. The faces in
the torchlight were like those of people overborne with
hurry and panic ; and, though none spoke above his
breath, their speech sounded both anxious and angry.

It was about this time that a lassie came out of the
house carrying a pack or bundle ; and it has often made
me smile to think how Alan's instinct awoke at the mere
sight of it.

" What's that the lassie has ?" he asked.

"We're just setting the house in order, Alan," said
James, in his frightened and somewhat fawning way,
"They'll search Appin with candles, and we must have
all things straight. We're digging the bit guns and
swords into the moss, ye see ; and these, I am thinking,
will be your ain French clothes."

KIDNAPPED. 189

"Bury my French clothes !" cried Alan. "Troth,
no ! " And he laid hold upon the packet and retired
into the barn to shift himself, recommending me in the
meanwhile to his kinsman.

James carried me accordingly into the kitchen, and
sat down with me at table, smiling and talking at first
in a very hospitable manner. Bat presently the gloom
returned upon him ; he sat frowning and biting his
fingers ; only remembered me from time to time ; and
then gave me but a word or two and a poor smile, and
back into his private terrors. His wife sat by the fire
and wept, with her face in her hands ; his eldest son
was crouched upon the floor, running over a great mass
of papers and now and again setting one alight and
burning it to the bitter end ; all the while a servant lass
with a red face was rummaging about the room, in a
blind hurry of fear, and whimpering as she went; and
every now and again, one of the men would thrust in
his face from the yard and cry for orders.

At last James could keep his seat no longer, and begged
my permission to be so itumannerly as walk about. "I
am but poor company altogether, sir," says he, " but I
can think of nothing but this dreadful accident, and the
trouble it is like to bring upon quite innocent persons."

A little after he observed his son burning a paper,
which he thought should have been kept ; and at that
his excitement burst out so that it was painful to wit-
ness. He struck the lad rejjeatedly.

190 KIDNAPPED.

" Are you gone gyte ? "* he cried. " Do you wish to
hang your father ? " and forgetful of my presence, car-
ried on at him a long time together in the Gaelic, the
young man answering nothing ; only the wife, at the
name of hanging, throwing her apron over her face and
Sobbing out louder than before.

This was all wretched for a stranger like myself to
hear and see ; and I was right glad when Alan returned,
lookiiig like himself in his fine French clothes, though
(to be sure) they were now grown almost too battered
and withered to deserve that name. I was then taken
out in my turn by another of the sons, and given that
change of clothing (of which I had stood so long in
need), and a pair of Highland brogues, made of deer-
leather, rather strange at first, but after a little practice
very easy to the feet.

By the time I came back, Alan must have told his
story ; for it seemed understood that I was to fly with
him, and they were all busy upon our equipment. They
gave us each a sword and pistols, though I professed my
inability to use the former ; and with these, and some
ammunition, a bag of oatmeal, an iron pan, and a bottle
of right French brandy, we were ready for the heather.
Money, indeed, was lacking. I had about two guineas
left ; Alan's belt having been despatched by another
hand, that trusty messenger had no more than seven-
teen-pence to his whole fortune ; and as for James, it
* Mad.

KIDNAPPED. 191

appears he liad brought himself so low with Journeys to
Edinburgh and legal expenses on behalf of the tenants,
that he could only scrape together three and fivepence
ludfpemiy ; the most of it in coppers,

'• This'U no do/' said Alan.

"Ye must find a safe bit somewhere near by," said
James, " and get word sent to me. Ye see, ye'll have
to get this business prettily off, Alan. This is no time
to be stayed for a guinea or two. They're sure to get
wind of ye, sure to seek ye, and by my way of it, sure to
lay on ye the wyte of this day's accident. If it falls on
you, it falls on me that am your near kinsman and har-
boured ye while ye were in the country. And if it

comes on me " he paused, and bit his fingers, with

a white face. "It would be a painful thing for our
friends if I Was to hang," said he.

" It would be an ill day for Appin," says Alan.

"It's a day that sticks in my throat," said James,
" 0 man, man, man — man, Alan ! you and me have
spoken like two fools ! " he cried, striking his hand
upon the wall so that the house rang again.

" Well, and that's true, too," said Alan ; " and my
friend from the lowlands here " (nodding at me) " gave
me a good word upon that head, if I would only have
listened to him."

" But see here," said James, returning to his former
manner, " if they lay me by the heels, Alan, it's then
that you'll be needing the money. For with all that I

192 KIDNAPPED.

have said, and that you have said, it will look very black
against the two of us ; do ye mark that ? Well, follow
me out, and ye'll see that I'll have to get a paper out
against ye mysel' ; I'll have to offer a reward for ye ;
ay, will I ! It's a sore thing to do between such near
friends; but if I get the dirdum * of this dreadful
accident, I'll have to fend for myself, man. Do ye see
that ? "

He spoke with a pleading earnestness, taking Alan by
the breast of the coat.

"Ay," said Alan, " I see that."

"And ye'll have to be clear of the country, Alan —
ay, and clear of Scotland — you and your friend from
the lowlands, too. For I'll have to paper your friend
from the lowlands. Ye see that, Alan — say that ye see
that!" *.

I thought Alan flushed a bit. " This is unco hard
on me that brought him here, James," said he, throw-
ing his head back. " It's like making me a traitor ! "

"Now, Alan, man!" cried James, "look things in
the face I He'll be papered anyway ; Mungo Campbell '11
be sure to paper him ; what matters if I pajier him, too ?
And then, Alan, I am a man that has a family." And
then, after a little pause on both sides : "And, Alan,
it'll be a jury of Campbells," said he.

" There's one thing," said Alan, musingly, " that
naebody kens his name."

* Blame.

KIDNAPPED. 193

" Nor yet they shallnae, Alan ! There's my hand
on that," cried. James, for all the world as if he had
really known my name and was foregoing some advan-
tage. " But just the habit he was in, and what he
looked like, and his age, and the like ? I couldnae well
do less.''

"\ wonder at your father's son," cried Alan, sternly.
" Would ye sell the lad with a gift ? would ye change
his clothes and then betray him ? "

"No, no, Alan," said James. '*No, no: the habit
he took off — the habit Mungo saw him in." But I
thought he seemed crest-fallen ; indeed, he was clutch-
ing at every straw ; and all the time, I daresay, saw the
faces of his hei-editary foes on the bench and in the jury-
box, and the gallows in the background.

" Well, .sir," says Alan, turning to me, " what say
ye to that ? Ye are here under the safeguard of my
honour ; and it's my part to see nothing done but what
shall please you."

"I have but one word to say," said I; "for to all
this dispute I am a perfect stranger. But the plain
common sense is to set the blame where it belongs, and
that is on the man that fired the shot. Paper him, as
ye call it, set the hunt on him ; and let honest, innocent
folk show their faces in safety."

But at this both Alan and James cried out in horror ;
bidding me hold my tongue, for that was not to be
thought of ; and asking mo " What the Camerons
13

194 KIDNAPPED.

would think?" (which again confirmed me, it must
have been a Cameron from Mamore that did the act),
and if I did not see that the lad might be caught ? " Ye
havenae surely thought of that ?" said they, with such
innocent earnestness, that my hands dropped at my
side, and I despaired of argument.

"Very well, then," said I, ''paper me, if you please,
paper Alan, paper King George ! We're all three inno-
cent, and that seems to be what's wanted ! But at least,
sir," said I to James, recovering from my little fit of
annoyance, "I am Alan's friend, and if I can be helpful
to friends of his, I will not stumble at the risk."

I thought it best to put a fair face on my consent,
for I saw Alan troubled ; and besides (thinks I to my-
self) as soon as my back is turned, they will paper me,
as they call it, whether I consent or not. But in this
I saw I was wrong ; for I had no sooner said the words,
than Mrs. Stewart leaped out of her chair, came running
over to us, and wept first upon my neck and then on
Alan's, blessing God for our goodness to her family.

"As for you, Alan, it was no more than your
bounden duty," she said. " But for this lad that has
come here and seen us at our worst, and seen the good-
man fleeching like a suitor, him that by rights should
give his commands like any king — as for you, my lad,"
she says, " my heart is wae not to have your name, but
I have your face ; and as long as my heart beats under
my bosom, I will keep it, and think of it, and bless it."

KIDNAPPED. 195

And with that she kissed me, and burst once more into
such sobbing, that I stood abashed.

" Hoot, hoot," said Alan, looking mighty silly.
*' The day comes unco soon in this month of July ; and
to-morrow there'll be a fine to-do in Appin, a fine rid-
ing of dragoons, and crying of ' Cruachan ! ' * and
running of red-coats ; and it behoves you and me to be
the sooner gone."

Thereupon we said farewell, and set out again, bend-
ing somewhat eastward, in a fine mild dark night, and
over much the same broken country as before.

* The rallying word of the Campbells.

CHAPTER XX.

THE FLIGHT IN THE HEATHER : THE ROCKS.

Sometimes we walked, sometimes ran ; and as it drew
on to morning, walked ever the less and ran the more.
Tliough, upon its face, that country appeared to be a
desert, yet there were huts and houses of the people,
of which Ave must have passed more than twenty, hidden
in quiet places of the hills. When we came to one of
these, Alan would leave me in the way, and go himself
and rap upon the side of the house and speak awhile
at the window witli some sleeper awakened. This was
to pass the news ; which, in that country, was so much
of a duty that Alan must pause to attend to it even while
fleeing for his life ; and so well attended to by others,
that in more than half of the houses where we called,
they had heard already of the murder. In the others,
as well as I could make out (standing back at a distance
and hearing a strange tongue) the news was received
with more of consternation than surprise.

For all our hurry, day began to come in while we
were still far from any shelter. It found us in a pro-
digious valley, strewn with rocks and where ran a foam-
ing river. Wild mountains stood around it ; there grew

KIDNAPPED. 197

there neither grass nor trees ; and I have sometimes
thought since then, that it may have been the valley
called Glencoe, where the massacre was in the time of
King William. But for tlie details of our itinerary, I
am all to seek ; our way lying now by short cuts, now
by great detours ; our pace being so hurried ; our time
of Journeying usually by night ; and the names of such
places as I asked and heard being in the Gaelic tongue
and the more easily forgotten.

The first peep of morning, then, showed us this
horrible place, and I could see Alan knit his brow.

" This is no fit place for you and me," he said.
'* This is a place they're bound to watch."

And with that he ran harder than ever down to the
water-side, in a part where the river was split in two
among three rocks. It went through with a horrid
thundering that made my belly quake ; and there hung
over the lynn a little mist of spray. Alan looked
neither to the right nor to the left, but Jumped clean
upon the middle rock and fell there on his hands and
knees to check himself, for that rock was small and he
might have pitched over on the far side. I had scarce
time to measure the distance or to understand the peril
before I had followed him, and he had caught and
stopped me.

So there we stood, side by side upon a small rock
slippery with spray, a far broader leap in front of us,
and the river dinning upon all sides. When I saw

198 KIDNAPPED.

where I was there came on me a deadly sickness of fear,
and I put my hand over my eyes. Alan took me and
shook me ; I saw he was speaking, but the roaring of
the falls and the trouble of my mind prevented me from
hearing ; only I saw his face was red with anger, and
that he stamped upon the rock. The same look showed
me the water raging by and the mist hanging in the
air ; and with that, I covered my eyes again and
shuddered.

The next minute Alan had set the brandy bottle to
my lips, and forced me to drink about a gill, which sent
the blood into my head again. Then, putting his hands
to his mouth and his mouth to my ear he shouted
"Hang or Drown!" and turning his back upon me,
leaped over the farther branch of the stream, and landed
safe.

I was now alone ujion the rock, which gave me the
more room ; the brandy was singing in my ears ; I had
this good example fresh before me, and Just wit enough
to see that if I did not leap at once, I should never leap
at all. I bent low on my knees and flung myself forth,
with that kind of anger of despair that has sometimes
stood me in stead of courage. Sure enough, it was but
my hands that reached the full length ; these slipped,
caught again, slipped again ; and I was sliddering back
into the lynn, when Alan seized me, first by the hair,
then by the collar, and with a great strain dragged me
into safety.

KIDNAPPED. 199

Never a word he said, but set off running again for
his life, and I must stagger to my feet and run after
him. I had been weary before, but now I was sick and
bruised, and partly drunken with the brandy ; I kept
stumbling as I ran, I had a stitch that came near to over-
master me ; and when at last Alan paused under a great
rock that stood there among a number of others, it was
none too soon for David Balfour.

A great rock, I have said ; but by rights it was two
rocks leaning together at the top, both some twenty feet
high, and at the first sight inaccessible. Even Alan
(though you may say he had as good as four hands)
failed twice in an attempt to climb them ; and it was
only at the third trial, and then by standing on my
shoulders and leaping up with such force as I thought
must have broken my collar-bone, that he secured a
lodgment. Once there, he let down his leathern girdle ;
and with the aid of that, and a pair of shallow footholds
in the rock, I scrambled up beside him.

Then I saw why we had come there ; for the two
rocks, both being somewhat hollow on the top and
sloping one to the other, made a kind of dish or saucer,
where as many as three or four men might have lain
hidden.

All this while, Alan had not said a word, and had run
and climbed with such a savage, silent frenzy of hurry,
that I knew he was in mortal fear of some miscarriage.
Even now we were on the rock he said nothing, nor so

200 KI])NAPPED.

much as relaxed the frowning look upon his face ; but
clapped flat down, and keeping only one eye above the
edge of our place of shelter, scouted all round the
compass. The dawn had come quite clear ; we could
see the stony sides of the valley, and its bottom, which
was bestrewed with rocks, and the river, which went
from one side to another, and made white falls; but
nowhere the smoke of a house, nor any living creature
but some eagles screaming round a cliflf.

Then at last Alan smiled.

" Ay," said he, "now we have a chance ; " and then
looking at me with some amusement, " Ye're no very
gleg * at the Jumping," said he.

At this I suppose I colonred with mortification, for
he added at once, '* Hoots ! small blame to ye ! To be
feared of a thing and yet to do it, is what makes the
prettiest kind of a man. Aud then there was water
there, and water's a thing that dauntons even me. No,
no," said Alan, "it's no you that's to blame, it's me."

I asked him why.

"Why," said he, "I liave proved myself a gomeral
this night. For first of all I take a wrong road, and
that in my own country of Appin ; so that the day has
caught us where we should never have been ; and thanks
to that, we lie here in some danger and mair discomfort.
And next (which is the worst of the two, for a man that
has been so much among the heather as myself) I have
* Brisk.

KIDNAPPED. 201

come wanting a water-bottle, and here we lie for a long
summer's day with naething but neat spirit. Ye may
think that a small matter ; but before it comes night,
David, ye'll give me news of it."

I was anxious to redeem my character, and oifered, if
lie would pour out the brandy, to run down and fill
the bottle at the river.

"I wouldnae waste the good spirit either," says he.
''It's been a good friend to you this night, or in my poor
opinion, ye would still be cocking on yon stone. And
what's mair," says he, ''ye may have observed (you
that's a man of so much penetration) that Alan Breck
Stewart was perhaps walking quicker than his ordinar'. "

" You ! " I cried, " you were running fit to burst."

" Was I so ?" said he. "Well, then, ye may depend
upon it, there was nae time to be lost. And now bere
is enough said ; gang you to your sleep, lad, and I'll
watch."

Accordingly, I lay down to sleep ; a little peaty earth
had drifted in between the top of the two rocks, and
some bracken grew there, to be a bed to me ; the last
thing I heard was still the crying of the eagles.

I daresay it would be nine in the morning when I was
roughly awakened, and found Alan's hand pressed upon
my mouth.

" Wheesht ! " he whispered. " Ye were snoring."

" Well," said I, surprised at his anxious and dark
face, " and why not ?"

202 KIDNAPPED.

He peered over the edge of the rock, and signed to me
to do the like.

It was now high day, cloudless, and very hot. The
valley was as clear as in a picture. About half-a-mile
np the water was a camp of red-coats ; a big fire blazed
in their midst, at which some were cooking ; and near
by, on the top of a rock about as high as ours, there
stood a sentry, with the sun sparkling on his arms. All
the way down along the riverside were posted other sen-
tries ; here near together, there w^delier scattered ; some
planted like tlie first, on places of command, some on
the ground level, and marching and counter-marching,
so as to meet half way. Higher up the glen, where the
ground was more open, the chain of posts was continued
by horse-soldiers, whom we could see in the distance
riding to and fro. Lower down, the infantry continued ;
but as the stream was suddenly swelled by the confluence
of a considerable burn, they were more widely set, and
only watched the fords and stepping-stones.

I took but one look at them and ducked again into
my place. It was strange indeed to see this valley,
which had lain so solitary in the hourof daAvn, bristling
with arms and dotted with the red-coats and breeches.

"Ye see," said Alan, "this was what I was afraid
of, Davie : that they would watch the burnside. They
began to come in about two hours ago, and, man ! but
ye're a grand hand at the sleeping ! We're in a narrow
place. If they get up the sides of the hill, they could

KIDNAPPED. 203

easy spy us with a glass ; but if they'll only keep in the
foot of the valley, we'll do yet. The posts are thinner
down the water ; and come night, we'll try our hand at
getting by them."

'* And what are we to do till night ?*' I asked.

" Lie here," says he, "and birstle."

That one good Scotch word, birstle, was indeed the
most of the story of the day that we had now to pass.
You are to remember that we lay on the bare top of a
rock, like scones upon a girdle ; the sun beat upon us
cruelly ; the rock grew so heated, a man could scaice
endure the touch of it ; and the little patch of earth and
fern, which kept cooler, was only large enough for one
at a time. We took turn about to lie on the naked
rock, which was indeed like the position of that saint
that was martyred on a gridiron ; and it ran in my
mind how strange it was that, in the same climate and
at only a few days' distance, I should have suffered so
cruelly, first from cold upon my island, and now from
heat upon this rock.

All the while we had no water, only raw brandy for
a drink, which was Avorse than nothing ; but we kept
the bottle as cool as we could, burying it in the eartli,
and got some relief by bathing our breasts and temples.

The soldiers kept stirring all day in the bottom of
the valley, now changing guard, now in patrolling
parties hunting among the rocks. These lay round in
so great a number, that to look for men among them

204 KIDNAPPED.

was like looking for a ucedle in a bottle of hay ; aud
being so hopeless a task, it was gone about with the less
care. Yet we conld see the soldiers pike their bayonets
among the heather, which .sent a cold thrill into my
vitals ; and they would sometimes hang about our rock,
so that we scarce dared to breathe.

It was in this way that I first heard the right
English speech ; one fellow as he went by actually
clapping his hand upon the sunny face of the rock on
which we lay, and plucking it off again with an oath.

" I tell you it's 'ot," says he ; and I was amazed at
the clipping tones and the odd sing-song in which he
spoke, and no less at that strange trick of dropping out
the letter h. To be sure, I had heard Kansome ; but he
had taken his ways from all sorts of people, and spoke
so imperfectly at the best, that I set down the most of
it to childishness. My surprise was all the greater to
hear that manner of speaking in the mouth of a grown
man ; and indeed I have never grown used with it ; nor
yet altogether with the Englisli grammar, as perhaps a
very critical eye might here and there spy out even in
these memoirs.

The tediousness and pain of these hours upon the
rocks grew only the greater as the day went on ; the
rock getting still the hotter and the sun fiercer. There
were giddiness, and sickness, and sharp pangs like rheu-
matism, to be supported. I minded then, and have
often minded since, on the lines in our Scotch Psalm : —

KIDNAPPED. 205

" The moon by night thee shall not smite,
Nor yet tlie sun by day ; "

and indeed it was only by God's blessing that we were
neither of us sun-smitten.

At last, about two, it was beyond men's bearing, and
there was now temptation to resist, as well as pain to
thole. For the sun being now got a little into the west,
there came a patch of shade on the east side of our rock,
which was the side sheltered from the soldiers.

"As well one death as another," said Alan, and
slipped over the edge and dropped on the ground on the
shadowy side.

I followed him at once, and instantly fell all my
length, so weak was I and so giddy Avith that long ex-
posure. Here, then, we lay for an hour or two, aching
from head to foot, as weak as water, and lying quite
naked to the eye of any soldier who should have strolled
that way. None came, however, all passing by on the
other side ; so that our rock continued to be our shield
even in this new position.

Presently we began again to get a little strength ;
and as the soldiers were now lying closer along the
riverside, Alan proposed that we should try a start. I
was by this time afraid of but one thing in the world;
and that was to be set back upon the rock ; anything
else was welcome to me ; so we got ourselves at once in
marching order, and began to slip from rock to rock
one after the other, now crawling flat on our bellies

206 KIDNAPPED.

ill the shade, now making a run for it, heart in
mouth.

The soldiers, having searched this side of the valley
after a fashion, and being perhaps somewhat sleepy with
the sultriness of the afternoon, had now laid by much
of their vigilance, and stood dozing at their posts, or
only kept a look-out along the banks of the river ; so
that in this way, keeping down the valley and at the
same time towards the mountains, we drew steadily
away from their neighbourhood. But the business was
the most wearing I had ever taken part in. A man had
need of a hundred eyes in every part of him, to keep
concealed in that uneven country and within cry of so
many and scattered sentries. When we must pass an
open place, quickness was not all, but a swift judgment
not only of the lie of the whole country, but of the
solidity of every stone on which we must set foot ; for
the afternoon was now fallen so breathless that the
rolling of a pebble sounded abroad like a pistol shot,
and would start the echo calling among the hills and
cliffs.

By sundown, we had made some distance, even by
our slow rate of progress, though to be sure the sentry
on the rock was still plainly in our view. But now we
came on something that put all fears out of season ; and
that was a deep, rushing burn that tore down, in that
part, to join the glen-river. At the sight of this, we cast
ourselves on the ground and plunged head and shoulders

KIDNAPPED. 207

in the water ; and I cannot tell which was the more
pleasant, the great shock as the cool stream went over
U3, or the greed with which we drauk of it.

We lay there (for the banks hid ns), drank again and
again, bathed our chests, let our wrists trail in the run-
ning water till they ached with the chill ^ and at last,
being wonderfully renewed, we got out the meal-bag
and made drammach in the iron pan. This, though it
is but cold water mingled with oatmeal, yet makes a
good enough dish for a hungry man ; and where there
are no means of making fire, or (as in our case) good
reason for not making one, it is the chief stand-by of
those who have taken to the heather.

As soon as the shadow of the night had fallen, we
set forth again, at first with the same caution, but pres-
ently with more boldness, standing our full height and
stepping out at a good pace of walking. The way was
very intricate, lying up the steep sides of mountains
and along the brows of cliffs ; clouds had come in with
the sunset, and the night was dark and cool ; so that I
walked without much fatigue, but in continual fear of
falling and rolling down the mountains, and with no
guess at our direction.

The moon rose at last and found us still on the road ;
it was in its last quarter and was long beset with clouds;
but after a while shone out, and showed me many dark
heads of mountains, and was reflected far underneath us
on the narrow arm of a sea-loch.

208 KIDNAPPED.

At this sight we botli paused : I struck with wouder
to find myself so high and walking (as it seemed to me)
upon clouds : Alan to make sure of his direction.

Seemingly he was well pleased, and he must cer-
tainly have judged us out of ear-shot of all our enemies;
for throughout the rest of our night-march, he beguiled
the Avay with whistling of many tunes, warlike, merry,
plaintive ; reel tunes that made the foot go faster ;
tunes of my own south country that made me fain to be
home from my adventures ; and all these, on the great,
dark, desert mountains, making company upon the way.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE FLIGHT IN THK HEATHER; THE HEUGH OF
CORRYNAKIEGH.

Early as day comes in the beginning of July, it was
still dark when we reached our destination, a cleft in
the head of a great mountain, with a water running
through the midst, and upon the one hand a shallow
cave in a rock. Birches grew there in a thin, pretty
wood, which a little further on was changed into a wood
of pines. The burn was full of trout ; the wood of
cushat-doves ; on the opening side of the mountain be-
yond, vvhaups would be always whistling and cuckoos
were plentiful. From the mouth of the cleft we looked
down upon a part of Mamore, and on the sea-locli tliat
divides that country from Appin ; and this from so great
a height, as made it my continual wonder and pleasure
to sit and behold them.

The name of the cleft was the Heugh of Corry-
nakiegh ; and although from its height and being so
near upon the sea it was often beset with clouds, yet it
was on the whole a pleasant place, and the five days we
lived in it went happily.

We slept in the cave, making our bed of iieather
14

210 KIDNAPPED.

bushes which we cut for that purpose, and covering our-
selves with Alan's great-coat. There was a low con-
cealed place, in a turning of the glen, where we were so
bold as to make fire : so that we could warm ourselves
when the clouds set in, and cook hot porridge, and grill
the little trouts that we caught with our hands under
the stones and overhanging banks of the burn. This
was indeed our chief pleasure and business ; and not
only to save our meal against worse times, but with a
rivalry that much amused us, we spent a great part of
our days at the water-side, stripped to the waist, and
groping about or (as they say) guddling for these fish.
The largest we got might have been three-quarters of a
pound ; but they were of good flesh and flavour, and
when broiled upon the coals, lacked only a little salt to
be delicious.

In any by-time Alan must teach me to use my sword,
for my ignorance had much distressed him ; and I
think besides, as I had sometimes the upper hand of
him in the fishing, he was not sorry to turn to an exer-
cise where he had so much the upper hand of me. He
made it somewhat more of a pain than need have been,
for he stormed at me all through the lessons in a very
violent manner of scolding, and would push me so close
that I made sure he must rnn me through the body. I
was often tempted to turn tail, but held my ground for
all that, and got some profit of my lessons ; if it was but
to stand on guard with an assured countenance, Avhich

KIDNAPPED. 211

is often all that is required. So, though I could never
in the least please my master, I was not altogether dis-
pleased with myself.

In the meanwhile, you are not to suppose that we
neglected our chief business, which was to get away.

"It will be many a long day," Alan said to me on
our first morning, "before the red-coats think upon
seeking Corrynakiegh ; so now we must get word sent
to James, and he must find the siller for us."

'' And how shall we send that word ? " says I. " We
are here in a desert place, which yet we dare not leave ;
and unless ye get the fowls of the air to be your messen-
gers, I see not what we shall be able to do."

"Ay?" said Alan. " Ye're a man of small contriv-
ance, David."

Thereupon he fell in a muse, looking in the embers
of the fire ; and presently, getting a piece of wood, he
fashioned it in a cross, the four ends of which he black-
ened on the coals. Then he looked at me a little shyly.

"Could ye lend me my button?" says he. "It
seems a strange thing to ask a gift again, but I own I
am laith to cut another,"

I gave him the button ; whereupon he strung it on a
strip of his great-coat which he had used to bind the
cross ; and tying in a little sprig of birch and another
of fir, he looked upon his work with satisfaction.

"Now," said he, "there is a little clachan " (what
is called a hamlet in the English) "not very far from

212 KIDNAPPED.

Corrynakiegh, and it has the name of Koalisnacoan.
There, there are living many friends of mine whom I
could trust with my life, and some that I am no just so
sure of. Ye see, David, there will be money set upon
our heads ; James himsel' is to set money on them ; and
as for the Campbells, they would never spare siller where
there was a Stewart to be hurt. If it was otherwise, I
would go down to Koalisnacoan whatever, and trust my
life into these people's hands as lightly as I would trust
another with my glove."

" But being so ? '' said I.

''Being so," said he, "I would as lief they didnae
see me. There's bad folk everywhere, and what's far
worse, weak ones. So when it comes dark again, I will
steal down into that clachan, and set this that I have
been making in the window of a good friend of mine,
John Breck Maccoll, a bouman* of Appin's."

" With all my heart," says I ; " and if he finds it,
what is he to think ? "

''Well," says Alan, "I wish he was a man of more
penetration, for by my troth I am afraid he will make
little enough of it ! But this is what I have in my
mind. This cross is something in the nature of the
cross-tarrie, or fiery cross, which is the signal of gather-
ing in our clans ; yet he will know well enough the clan
is not to rise, for there it is standing in his window, and

* A bouman is a tenant who takes stock from the lanillord and
shares with him the increase.

KIDNArPED. 213

no word with it. So he will say to himsel', The dan is
not to rise, but there is something. Then he will see my
button, and that was Duncan Stewart's. And then he
will say to himsel', The son of Duncan is in the heather
and has need of me."

"Well," said I, "it may be. But even supposing so,
there is a good deal of heather between here and the
Forth."

"And that is a very true word," says Alan. "But
then John Breck Avill see the sprig of birch and the
sprig of pine ; and he will say to himsel' (if he is a man
of any peneti'ation at all, which I misdoubt), Alan will
he lying in a wood which is both of pines and birches.
Then he will think to himsel', That is not so very rife
hereabout; and then he will come and give us a look up
in Corrynakiegh. And if he does not, David, the devil
may fly away with him, for what I care ; for he will no
be worth the salt to his porridge."

"Eh, man," said I, drolling with him a little,
"you're very ingenious ! But would it not be simpler
for you to write him a few words in black and white ? "

" And that is an excellent observe, Mr. Balfour of
Shaws," says Alan, drolling with me; "and it would
certainly be much simpler for me to write to him, but
it would be a sore job for John Breck to read it. He
"Nvould have to go to the school for two-three years ;
and it's possible we might be wearied waiting on him."

So that night Alan carried down his fiery cross and

214 KIDNAPPED.

set it in the bouman's window. He was troubled when
he came back ; for the dogs had barked and the folk
run out from their houses ; and he thought he had
heard a clatter of arms and seen a red-coat come to one
of the doors. On all accounts, we lay the nest day in
the borders of the wood and kept a close look-out ; so
that if it was John Breck that came, we might be ready
to guide him, and if it was the red-coats, we should
have time to get away.

About noon a man was to be spied, straggling np the
open side of the mountain in the sun, and looking
round him as he came, fi'om under his hand. No sooner
had Alan seen him than he whistled ; the man turned
and came a little towards us : then Alan would give
another " peep ! " and the man would come still nearer ;
and so by the sound of whistling, he was guided to the
spot where we lay.

He was a ragged, wild, bearded man, about forty,
grossly disfigured with the small -pox, and looked both
dull and savage. Although his English was very bad
and broken, yet Alan (according to his very handsome
use, whenever I was by) would suffer him to speak no
Gaelic. Perhaps the strange language made him appear
more backward than he really was ; but I thought he
had little good-will to serve us, and what he had was the
child of terror.

Alan would have had him carry a message to James ;
but the bouman would hear of no message. " She was

KIDNAPPED. 215

forget it," he said in his screaming voice ; and would
either have a letter or wash his hands of us.

I thought Alan would be gravelled at that, for we
lacked the means of writing in that desert. But he was
a man of more resources than 1 knew ; searched the
wood until he found a quill of a cushat-dove, which he
shaped into a pen ; made himself a kind of ink with
gunpowder from his horn and water from the running
stream ; and tearing a corner from his French military
commission (which he carried in his pocket, like a talis-
man to keep him from the gallows), he sat down and
wrote as follows :

"Dear Kinsman, — Please send the money by the bearer to the

place he kens of.

"Your affectionate cousin,

"A. S."

This he intrusted to the bouman, who promised to
make what manner of speed he best could, and carried
it off with him down the hill.

He was three full days gone, but about five in the
evening of the third, we heard a whistling in the wood,
which Alan answered ; and presently the bouman came
up the waterside, looking for us, right and left. He
seemed less sulky than before, and indeed he was no
doubt well pleased to have got to the end of such a dan-
gerous commission.

He gave us the news of the country ; that it was alive
with red-coats ; that arms were being found, and poor

216 KIDNAPPED.

folk brought in trouble daily ; and that James and some
of his servants were ali-cady clapped in prison at Fort
William, under strong suspicion of complicity. It
seemed, it was noised on all sides that Alan Breck had
fired the shot ; and there was a bill issued for both him
and me, with one hundred pounds reward.

This was all as bad as could be ; and the little note
the bouman had carried us from Mrs. Stewart was of a
miserable sadness. In it she besought Alan not to let
himself be captured, assuring him, if he fell in the hands
of the troops, both he and James were no better than
dead men. The money she had sent was all that she
could beg or borrow, and she prayed heaven we could be
doing with it. Lastly, she said she enclosed us one of
the bills in which we were described.

This Ave looked upon with great curiosity and not a
little fear, partly as a man may look in a mirror, partly
as he might look into the barrel of an enemy's gun to
judge if it be truly aimed. Alan was advertised as "a
small, pock-marked, active man of thirty-five or thereby,
dressed in a feathered hat, a French side-coat of blue
with silver buttons and lace a great deal tarnished, a red
waistcoat and breeches of black shag ; " and I as "a tall
strong lad of about eighteen, wearing an old blue coat,
very ragged, an old Highland bonnet, a long homespun
waistcoat, blue breeches ; his legs bare ; low-country
shoes, wanting the toes ; speaks like a lowlander, and
has no beard."

KIDNAPPED. 217

Alan was well enough pleased to see bis finery so
fully remembered and set down ; only when be came to
the word tarnish, he looked upon bis lace like one a
little mortified. As for myself, I thought I cut a
miserable figure yi the bill, and yet was well enough
pleased too; for since I had changed these rags, the
description bad ceased to be a danger and become a
source of safety.

*' Alan," said I, "you should change your clothes.''

" Na, troth ! " said Alan, " I have nae others. A fine
sight I would be if I went back to France in a bonnet ! "

This put a second refiection in my mind : that if I
were to separate from Alan and his tell-tale clothes, I
should be safe against arrest, and might go openly about
my business. Nor was this all ; for suppose I was
arrested when I was alone, there was little against me ;
but suppose I was taken in company with the reputed
murderer, my case would begin to be grave. For gener-
osity's sake, I dare not speak my mind upon this head ;
but I thought of it none the less.

I thought of it all the more, too, when the bouman
brought out a green purse with four guineas in gold,
and the best part of another in small change. True, it
was more than I had. But then Alan, with less than
five guineas, had to get as far as France ; I, with my
less than two, not beyond Queensferry ; so that, taking
things in their proportion, Alan's society was not only
a peril to my life but a burden on my purse.

218 KIDNAPPED,

But there was no thought of the sort in the honest
head of my companion. He believed he was serving,
helping, and protecting me. And what could I do but
hold my peace, and chafe, and take my chance of it ?

''It's little enough," said Alan, putting the purse in
his pocket, " but it'll do my business. And now John
Breck, if ye will hand me over my button, this gentle-
man and me will be for taking the road."

But the bouman, after feeling about in a hairy purse
that hung in front of him in the Highland manner
(though he wore otherwise the lowland habit, with sea-
trousers) began to roll his eyes strangely, and at last
said, "Her nainsel will loss it," meaning he thought he
had lost it.

"What!" cried Alan, "you will lose my button,
that was my father's before me ? Now, I will tell you
what is in my mind, John Breck : it is in my mind this
is the worst day's work that ever ye did since ye were
born."

And as Alan spoke, he set his hands on his knees and
looked at the bouman with a smiling mouth, and that
dancing light in his eyes that meant mischief to his
enemies.

Perhaps the bouman was honest enough ; perhaps he
had meant to cheat and then, finding himself alone
with two of us in a desert place, cast back to honesty as
being safer ; at least, and all at once, he seemed to find
the button and handed it to Alan.

KIDNAPPED. 219

" Well, and it is a good thing for the honour of the
Maccolls," said Alan, and then to me, '^Here is my
button back again, and I thank yon for parting with it,
which is of a piece with all your friendships to me."
Then he took the warmest parting of the bouman.
"For," says he, "ye have done very well by me, and
set your neck at a venture, and I will always give you
the name of a good man."

Lastly, the bouman took himself off by one way ; and
Alan and I (getting our chattels together) struck into
another to resume our flight.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE FLIGHT IN THE HEATHER : THE MUIR.

More than eleven honrs of incessant, hard travelling
brought us early in the morning to the end of a range
of mountains. In front of us there lay a piece of low,
broken, desert land, which we must now cross. The
sun was not long up and shone straight in our eyes ; a
little, thin mist went up from the face of the moorland
like a smoke; so that (as Alan said) there might have
been twenty squadrons of dragoons there, and we none
the wiser.

We sat down, therefore, in a howe of the hillside, till
the mist should have risen, and made ourselves a dish
of drammach, and held a council of war.

"David," said Alan, 'Hhis is the kittle bit. Shall
we lie here till it comes night, or shall we risk it and
stave on ahead ? "

"Well," said I, " I am tired indeed, but I could walk
as far again, if that was all."

"Ay, but it isnae," said Alan, "nor yet the half.
This is how we stand : Appin's fair death to us. To the
south, it's all Campbells, and no to be thought of. To
the north ; well, there's no muckle to be gained, by going

KIDNAPPED. 221

north ; neither for you, that wants to get to Queensferry,
nor yet for me, that wants to get to France. A¥ell, then,
we'll can strike east."

" East be it ! " says I, quite cheerily ; but I was think-
ing, in to myself : "0 man, if you would only take one
point of the compass and let me take any other, it would
be the best for both of us."

'' Well, then, east, ye see, we have the Muirs," said
Alan. "Once there, David, its mere pitch-and-toss.
Out on yon bald, naked, flat place, where can a body
turn to ? Let the red-coats come over a hill, they can
spy you miles away ; and the sorrow's in their horses
heels ! they would soon ride you down. It's no good
place, David ; and I'm free to say, it's worse by day-
light than by dark."

"Alan," said I, "hear my way of it. Appin's death
for us ; we have none too much money, nor yet meal ;
the longer they seek, the nearer they may guess where
we are ; it's all a risk ; and I give my word to go ahead
until we drop."

Alan was delighted. "There are whiles," said he,
" when ye are altogether too canny and "Whiggish to be
company for a gentleman like me ; but there come other
whiles when ye show yoursel' a mettle spark ; and it's
then, David, that I love ye like a brother."

The mist rose and died away, and showed us that
country lying as waste as the sea ; only the moorfowl
and the peewees crying upon it, and far over to the east.

222 KIDNAPPED.

a herd of deer, moving like dots. Much of it was red
heather ; much of the rest broken up with bogs and
hags and peaty pools ; some had been burnt black in a
heath-fire ; and in another place there was quite a forest
of dead firs, standing like skeletons. A wearier looking
desert man never saw ; but at least it was clear of
troops, which was our point.

We went down accordingly into the waste, and began
to make our toilsome and devious travel towards the
eastern verge. Tliere were the tops of mountains all
round (you are to remember) from whence we might be
spied at any moment ; so it behoved us to keep in the
hollow parts of the moor, and when these turned aside
from our direction, to move upon its naked face with
infinite care. Sometimes for half-an-hour together we
must crawl from one heather-bush to another, as hunters
do when they are hard upon the deer. It was a clear
day again, with a blazing sun ; the water in the brandy
bottle was soon gone ; and altogether, if I had guessed
what it would be to crawl half the time upon my belly
and to walk much of the rest stooping nearly to the
knees, I should certainly have held back from such a
killing enterprise.

Toiling and resting and toiling again, we wore away
the morning ; and about noon lay down in a thick bush
of heather to sleep. Alan took the first watch ; and it
seemed to me I had scarce closed my eyes before I was
shaken up to take the second. We had no clock to go

KIDNAPPED. 223

by ; and Alan stuck a sprig of heath in the ground to
serve instead ; so that as soon as the shadow of the bush
should fall so far to the east, I might know to rouse
him. But I was by this time so weary that I could have
slept twelve hours at a stretch ; I had the taste of sleep
in my throat ; my joints slept even when my mind was
waking ; the hot smell of the heather, and the drone of
the wild bees, were like possets to me ; and every now
and again I would give a jump and find I had been
dozing.

The last time I woke, I seemed to come back from
further away, and tliought the sun had taken a great
start in the heavens. I looked at the sprig of heath,
and at that I could have cried aloud ; for I saw I had
betrayed my trust. My head was nearly turned with
fear and shame ; and at what I saw, when I looked out
around me on the muir, my heart was like dying in my
body. For sure enough, a body of horse-soldiers had
come down during my sleep, and were drawing near to
us from the south-east, spread out in the shape of a fan
and riding their horses to and fro in the deep parts of
the lieather.

When I waked Alan, he glanced first at the soldiers,
then at the mark and the position of the sun, and
knitted his brows with a sudden, quick look, both ugly
and anxious, which was all the reproach I had of him.

" What are we to do now ? " I asked.

''We'll have to play at being hares," said he. " Do

224 KIDNAPPED.

ye see yon mountain ? " pointing to one on the north-
eastern sky.

" Ay," said I.

"Well, then,'' says he, "let us strike for that. Its
name is Ben Alder ; it is a wild, desert mountain full of
hills and hollows, and if we can win to it hefore the
morn, we may do yet."

"But, Alan," cried I, " that will take us across the
very coming of the soldiers ! "

"I ken that fine," said he; "but if we are driven
back on Appin, wo are two dead men. So now, David
man, be brisk ! "

With that he began to run forward on his hands and
knees with an incredible quickness, as though it were
his natural way of going. All the time, too, he kept
winding in and out in the lower parts of the moorland
where we were the best concealed. Some of these had
been burned or at least scathed with fire ; and there rose
in our faces (which were close to the ground) a blind-
ing, choking dust as fine as smoke. The water was long
out ; and this postui'e of running on the hands and
knees brings an overmastering weakness and weariness,
so that the Joints ache and the wrists faint under your
weight.

Now and then, indeed, where was a big bush of
heather, Ave lay awhile and panted, and putting aside
the leaves, looked back at the dragoons. They had not
spied us, for they held straight on ; a half-troop, I think,

KIDNAPPED. 226

covering about two miles of ground and beating it
mighty thoroughly as they went. I had awakened just
in time ; a little later, and we must have fled in front
of them, instead of escaping on one side. Even as it
was, the least misfortune might betray us ; and now
and again, when a grouse rose out of the heather with a
clap of wings, we lay as still as the dead and were afraid
to breathe.

The aching and faintness of my body, the labouring
o^ my heart, the soreness of my hands, and the smart-
ing of my throat and eyes in the continual smoke of
dust and ashes, had soon grown to be so unbearable
that I would gladly have given up. Nothing but the
fear of Alan lent me enough of a false kind of courage
to continue. As for himself (and you are to bear in
mind that he was cumbered with a great-coat) he had
first turned crimson, but as time went on, the redness
began to be mingled with patches of white ; his breath
cried and whistled as it came ; and his voice, when he
whispered his observations in my ear during our halts,
sounded like nothing human. Yet he seemed in no way
dashed in spirits, nor did he at all abate in his activity ;
so that I was driven to marvel at the man's endurance.

At length, in the first gloaming of the night, we
heard a trumpet sound, and looking back from among
the heather, saw the troop beginning to collect. A
little after, they had built a fire and camped for the
night, about the middle of the waste.
15

226 KIDNAPPED.

At this I begged and besought that we might lie
down and sleep.

"There shall be no sleep the night!*' said Alan.
" From now on, these weary dragoons of yours Avill keep
the crown of the muirland, and none will get out of
Appin but winged fowls. We got through in the nick
of time, and shall we Jeopard what we've gained ? Na,
na, when the day comes, it shall find you and me in a
fast place on Ben Alder."

"Alan," I said, "it's not the want of will : it's the
strength that I want. If I could, I would ; but as sure
as I'm alive, I cannot."

"Very well, then," said Alan. " I'll carry ye."

I looked to see if he were jesting; but no, the little
man was in dead earnest ; and the sight of so much
resolution shamed me.

" Lead away ! " said I. "I'll follow."

He gave me one look, as much as to say, "Well done,
David ! " and off he set again at his top speed.

It gi'cw cooler and even a little darker (but not much)
with the coming of the night. The sky was cloudless ;
it was still early in July, and pretty far north ; in the
darkest part of that night, you would have needed
pretty good eyes to read, but for all that, I have often
seen it darker in a winter midday. Heavy dew fell, and
drenched the moor like rain ; and this refreshed me for
awhile. When we stopped to breathe, and I had time
to see all about me the clearness and sweetness of the

KIDNAPPED. 227

night, the shapes of the hills like things asleep, and the
fire dwindling away behind us, like a bright spot in the
midst of the moor, anger would come upon me in a clap
that I must still drag myself in agony and eat the dust
like a worm.

By Avhat I have read in books, I think few that have
held a pen were ever really wearied, or they would write
of it more strongly. I had no care of my life, neither
past nor future, and I Scarce remembered there was such
a lad as David Balfour. I did not think of myself, but
Just of each fresh step which I was sure would be my
last, with desi)air — and of Alan, who was the cause of
it, with hatred. Alan was in the right trade as a
soldier ; this is the officer's part to make men continue
to do things, they know not wherefore, and when, if the
choice was offered, they Avould lie down where they
were and be killed. And I daresay I would have made
a good enough private ; for in these last hours, it never
occurred to me that I had any choice, but just to obey
as long as I was able, and die obeying.

Day began to come in, after years, I thought ; and by
that time, we were past the greatest danger, and could
walk upon our feet like men, instead of crawling like
brutes. But, dear heart, have mercy ! what a pair we
must have made, going double like old grandfathers,
stumbling like babes, and as white as dead folk. Never
a word passed between us ; each set his mouth and kept
his eyes in front of him, and lifted up his foot and set

228 KIDNAPPED.

it down again, like people lifting weights at a coun-
try play ; * all the while, with the moorfowl crying
" peep ! *' in the heather, and the light coming slowly
clearer in the east.

I say Alan did as I did : not that ever I looked at
him, for I had enough ado to keep my feet ; hut because
it is plain he must have been as stupid with weariness
as myself, and looked as little where we were going, or
we should not have walked into an ambush like blind
men.

It fell in this way, We were going down a heathery
brae, Alan leading and I following a pace or two behind,
like a fiddler and his wife ; when upon a sudden the
heather gave a rustle, three or four ragged men leaped
out, and the next moment we were lying on our backs,
each with a dirk at his throat.

I don't think I cared : the pain of this rough hand-
ling was quite swallowed up by the pains of which I
was already full ; and I was too glad to have stopped
walking to mind about a dirk. I lay looking up in the
face of the man that held me ; and I mind his face was
black with the sun and his eyes very light, but I was
not afraid of him. I heard Alan and another whisper-
ing in the Gaelic ; and what they said was all one to me.

Then the dirks were put up, our weapons were taken
away, and we were set face to face, sitting in the heather.

" They are Cluny's men," said Alan. " We couldnae
* Village fair.

KIDNAPPED. 229

have fallen better. We're just to bide here witli these,
which are his out-sentries, till they can get word to the
chief of my arrival."

Now Cluny Macpherson, the chief of the clan
Vourieh, had been one of the leaders of the great re-
bellion six years before ; there was a price on his life ;
and I had supposed him long ago in France, with the
rest of the heads of that desperate party. Even tired
as I was, the surprise of what I heard half wakened mo.

*' What ? " I cried. " Is Cluny still here ? "

" Ay is he so ! " said Alan. '' Still in his own coun-
try and kept by his own clan. King George can do no
more."

I think I would have asked farther, but Alan gave
me the put-off. " I am rather wearied," he said, " and
I would like fine to get a sleep." And without more
words, he rolled on his face in a deep heather-bush, and
seemed to sleep at once.

There was no such thing possible for me. You have
heard grasshoppers whirring in the grass in the summer
time ? Well, I had no sooner closed my eyes, than my
body, and above all my head, belly, and wrists, seemed
to be filled with whirring grasshoppers ; and I must
open my eyes again at once, and tumble and toss, and
sit up and lie down ; and look at the sky which dazzled
me, or at Cluny's wild and dirty sentries, peering out
over the top of the brae and chattering to each other in
the Gaelic.

230 KIDKAPPED.

That was all the rest I had, until the messenger re-
turned ; when, as it appeared that Cluny wonld be glad
to receive ns, we must get once more upon our feet and
set forward. Alan was in excellent good spirits, much
refreshed by his sleep, very hungry, and looking
pleasantly forward to a dram and a dish of hot collops,
of which, it seems, the messenger had brought him
word. For my part, it made me sick to hear of eating.
I had been dead-heavy before, and now I felt a kind of
dreadful lightness, which would not suffer me to walk.
I drifted like a gossamer ; the ground seemed to me a
cloud, the hills a feather-weight, the air to have a cur-
rent, like a running burn, which carried me to and fro.
With all that, a sort of horror of despair sat on my
mind, so that I could have wept at my own helplessness.

I saw Alan knitting his brows at me, and supposed it
was in anger ; and that gave me a pang of light-headed
fear, like what a child may have. I remember, too,
that I was smiling, and could not stop smiling, hard
as I tried ; for I thought it was out of place at sucli a
time. But my good companion had nothing in his
mind but kindness ; and the next moment, two of the
gillies had me by the arms, and I began to be carried
forward with great swiftness (or so it appeared to me,
although I daresay it was slowly enough in truth)
through a labyrinth of dreary glens and hollows and
into the heart of that dismal mountain of Ben Alder.

CHAPTER XXIII.

cluny's cage.

We came at last to the foot of an exceetling steep
wood, which scrambled up a craggy hillside, and was
crowned by a naked precipice,

"It's here," said one of the guides, and we struck
up hill.

The trees clung upon the slope, like sailors on the
shrouds of a ship ; and their trunks were like the rounds
of a ladder, by which we mounted.

Quite at the top, and just before the rocky face of
the cliff sprang above the foliage, we found that strange
house which was known in the country as " Cluny's
Cage." The trunks of several trees had been wattled
across, the intervals strengthened with stakes, and the
ground behind this barricade levelled up with earth to
make the floor. A tree, which grew out from the hill-
side, was the living centre-beam of the roof. The walls
were of wattle and covered with moss. The whole house
had something of an Q.^g shape ; and it half hung, half
stood in that steep, hillside thicket, like a wasp's nest
in a green hawthorn.

Within, it was large enough to shelter five or six

2S2 KIDNAPPED.

persons with some comfort. A projection of the cliff
h-.id been cunningly employed to be the fireplace ; and
the smoke rising against the face of the rock, and being
not dissimilar in colour, readily escaped notice from
below.

This was but one of Clnny's hiding-places ; he had
caves, besides, and underground chambers in several
parts of his country ; and following the reports of his
scouts, he moved from one to another as the soldiers
drew near or moved away. By this manner of living,
and thanks to the affection of his clan, he had not only
stayed all this time in safety, while so many others had
fled or been taken and slain, but stayed four or five
years longer, and only went to France at last by the
express command of his master. There he soon died ;
and it's strange to reflect that he may have regretted
his Cage upon Ben Alder.

When we came to the door, he was seated by his rock
chimney, watching a gillie about some cookery. He was
mighty plainly habited, with a knitted nightcap drawn
over his ears, and smoked a foul cutty pipe. For all
that he had the manners of a king, and it was quite a
sight to see him rise out of his place to welcome us.

" Well, Mr. Stewart, come awa' sir !" said he, "and
bring in your friend that as yet 1 dinna ken the name
of."

'' And how is yourself, Cluny ? " said Alan. " I hope
ye do brawly, sir. And I am proud to see ye, and to

KIDNAPPED. '233

present to ye my friend the Laird of Shaws, Mr. David
Balfour."

Alan never referred to my estate without a touch of a
sneer, when we were alone ; but with strangers, he rang
the words out like a herald.

"Step in by, the both of ye, gentlemen," says Cluny.
" I make ye welcome to my house, which is a queer,
rude place for certain, but one where I have entertained
a royal personage, Mr. Stewart — ye doubtless ken the
personage I have in my eye. We'll take a dram for
luck, and as soon as this handless man of mine has the
collops ready, we'll dine and take a hand at the cartes
as gentlemen should. My life is a bit driegh," says he,
pouring out the brandy ; " I see little company, and sit
and twirl my thumbs, and mind upon a great day that
is gone by, and weary for another great day that we all
hope will be upon the road. And so here's a toast to
ye : The Restoration !"

Thereupon we all touched glasses and drank. I am
sure I wished no ill to King George ; and if he had
been there himself in proper person, it's like he would
have done as I did. No sooner had I taken out the
dram than I felt hugely better, and could look on and
listen, still a little mistily perhaps, but no longer with
the same groundless horror and distress of mind.

It was certainly a strange place, and we had a strange
host. In his long hiding, Cluny had grown to have all
manner of precise haljits, like those of an old maid. He

234 KIDNAPPED.

had a particular place, where no one else must sit ; the
Cage was arranged in a particular way, which none
must disturb ; cookery was one of his chief fancies, and
even while he was greeting us in, he kept an eye to the
collops.

It appears, he sometimes visited or received visits
from his wife and one or two of his nearest friends,
under the cover of night ; but for the more part lived
quite alone, and communicated only with his sentinels
and the gillies that waited on him in the Cage. The
first thing in the morning, one of them, who was a
barber, came and shaved him, and gave him the news of
the country, of which he was immoderately greedy.
There was no end to his questions ; he put them as
earnestly as a child ; and at some of the answers,
laughed out of all bounds of reason, and would break
out again laugliing at the mere memory, hours after the
barber was gone.

To be sure, there might have been a purpose in his
questions ; for though he was thus sequestered, and like
the other landed gentlemen of Scotland, stripped by the
late Act of Parliament of legal powers, he still exercised
a patriarchal justice in his clan. Disputes were brought
to him in his hiding-hole to be decided ; and the men of
his country, who would have snapped their fingers at the
Court of Session, laid aside revenge and paid down money
at the bare word of this forfeited and hunted outlaw.
When he was angered, Avhich was often enougli, he gave

KIDNAPPED. 235

his commands and breatlied threats of punishment like
any king ; and his gillies trembled and crouched away
from him like children before a hasty father. With
each of them, as he entered, he ceremoniously shook
hands, both parties touching their bonuets at the same
time in a military manner. Altogether, I had a fair
chance to see some of the inner workings of a Highland
clan ; and this with a proscribed, fugitive chief ; his
country conquered ; the troops riding upon all sides in
quest of him, sometimes within a mile of where he lay ;
and when the least of the ragged fellows whom he rated
and threatened could have made a fortune by betray-
ing him.

On that first day, as soon as the collops were ready,
Cluny gave them with his own hand a squeeze of a
lemon (for he was well supplied with luxuries) and bade
us draw in to our meal.

''They," said he, meaning the collops, "are such as
I gave His Royal Highness in this very house ; bating
the lemon-juice, for at that time we were glad to get the
meat and never fashed for kitchen. Indeed, there were
mair dragoons than lemons in my country in the year
forty-six."

I do not know if the collops were truly very good, but
my heart rose against the very sight of them, and I
could eat but little. All the while Chmy entertained us
with stories of Prince Charlie's stay in the Cage, giving
us the very words of the speakers and rising from his

236 KIDNAPPED.

place to show us where they stood. By these, I gath-
ered the Prince was a gracious, spirited boy, like the son
of a race of polite kings, but not so wise as Solomon. I
gathered, too, that while he was in the Cage, he was
often drunk ; so the fault that has since, by all accounts,
made such a wreck of him, had even then begun to
show itself.

We were no sooner done eating, than Cluny brought
out an old, thumbed, greasy pack of cards, such as you
may find in a mean inn ; and his eyes brightened in his
face as he proposed that we should fall to playing.

Now this was one of the things I had been brought
up to eschew like disgrace ; it being held by my father
neither the part of a Christian nor yet of a gentleman,
to set his own livelihood and fish for that of others, on
the cast of painted pasteboard. To be sure, I might
have pleaded my fatigue, which was excuse enough ;
hut I thought it behoved that I should bear a testimony.
I must have got very red in the face, but I spoke
steadily, and told them I had no call to be a judge of
others, but for my own part, it was a matter in which I
had no clearness.

Chiny stopped mingling the cards. " What in deil's
name is this?" says he. ''What kind of Whiggish,
canting talk is this, for the house of Cluny Macpher-
son ? "

" I will put my hand in the fire for Mr. Balfour,"
says Alan. " lie is an honest and a mettle gentleman,

KIDNAPPED. 237

and I would have ye bear in mind who says it. I bear
a king's name," says he, cocking his hat ; "and I and
any that I call friend are company for the best. But
the gentleman is tired, and should sleep ; if he has no
mind to the cartes, it will never hinder you and me.
And I'm fit and willing, sir, to play ye any game that
ye can name."

"Sir," says Cluny, "in this poor house of mine, I
would have you to ken that any gentleman may follow
his pleasure. If your friend would like to stand on his
head, he is welcome. And if either he, or you, or any
other man, is not preceesely satisfied, I will be proud to
step outside with him."

I had no will that these two friends should cut their
throats for my sake.

" Sir," said I, *' I am very wearied, as Alan says ;
and what's more, as you are a man that likely has sons
of your own, I may tell you it was a promise to my
father."

"Say nae mair, say nae mair," said Cluny, and
pointed me to a bed of heather in a corner of the Cage.
For all that, he was displeased enough, looked at me
askance, and grumbled when he looked. And indeed it
must be owned that both my scruples and the words in
which I declared them smacked somewhat of the Cove-
nanter, and were little in their place among wild High-
land Jacobites.

What with the brandy and the venison, a strange

238 KIDNAPPED.

heuviness had come over me ; and I had scarce lain
down upon the bed before I fell into a kind of trance
in which I continued almost the whole time of our stay
in the Cage. Sometimes I was broad awake and under-
stood what passed ; sometimes I only heard voices or
men snoring, like the voice of a silly river ; and the
plaids upon the wall dwindled down and swelled out
again, like firelight shadows on the roof. I must some-
times have spoken or cried out, for I remember I was
now and then amazed at being answered ; yet I was con-
scious of no particular nightmare, only of a general,
black, abiding horror — a horror of the place I was in,
and the bed I lay in, and the plaids on the wall, and
the voices, and the fire, and myself.

The barber-gillie, who was a doctor, too, was called
in to prescribe for me ; but as he spoke in the Gaelic, I
understood not a word of his opinion, and was too sick
even to ask for a translation. I knew well enough I
was ill, and that was all I cared about.

I paid little heed while I lay in this poor pass. But
Alan and Cluny were most of the time at the cards, and
I am clear that Alan must have begun by winning ; for
I remember sitting up, and seeing them hard at it, and
a great glittering pile of as much as sixty or a hundred
guineas on the table. It looked strange enough, to see
all this wealth in a nest upon a clifF-side, wattled about
growing trees. And even then, I thought it seemed
deep water for Alan to be riding, who had no better

KIDNAPPED. 239

battle-horse than a green purse and a matter of five
pounds.

The luck, it seems, changed on the second day.
About noon I was awakened as usual for dinner, and as
usual refused to eat, and was given a dram with some
bitter infusion which the barber had jirescribed. The
sun was shining in at the open door of the Cage, and
this dazzled and offended me. Cluny sat at the table,
biting the pack of cards. Alan had stooped over the
bed, and had his face close to my eyes ; to which,
troubled as they were with the fever, it seemed of the
most shocking bigness.

He asked me for a loan of my money.

" What for ? " said I.

" 0, Just for a loan," said he.

"But why ? " I repeated. " I don't see."

"Hut, David !" said Alan, "ye wouldnae grudge me
a loan ? "

I would, though, if I had had my senses ! But all I
thought of then was to get his face away, and I handed
him my money.

On the morning of the third day, when we had been
forty-eight hours in the Cage, I awoke with a great
relief of spirits, very weak and weary indeed, but seeing
things of the right size and with their honest, every-day
appearance. I had a mind to eat, moreover ; rose from
bed of my own movement ; and as soon as we had
breakfasted, stepped to the entry of the Cage and sa^

240 KIDNAPPED.

down outside in the top of the wood. It was a gray
day with a cool, mild air : and I sat in a dream all
morning, only disturbed by the passing by of Cluny's
scouts and servants coming with provisions and reports ;
for as the coast was at that time clear, you might almost
say he held court openly.

When I returned, he and Alan had laid the cards
aside and were questioning a gillie ; and the chief turned
about and spoke to me in the Gaelic.

"I have no Gaelic, sir," said I.

Now since the card question, everything I said or did
had the power of annoying Cluny. "Your name has
more sense than yourself, then," said he, angrily ; "for
it's good Gaelic. But the point is this. My scout
reports all clear in the south, and the question is have
ye the strength to go ? "

I saw cards on the table, but no gold ; only a heap
of little written papers, and these all on Cluny's side.
Alan besides had an odd look, like a man not very well
content ; and I began to have a strong misgiving.

" I do not know if I am as Avell as I should be," said
I, looking at Alan ; "but the little money we have has
a long way to carry us."

Alan took his underlip into his mouth, and looked
upon the ground.

" David," says he, at last, " I've lost it ; there's the^
naked truth."

" My money, too ? " said I,

KIDNAPPED. 241

"Your money, too," says Alan, with a groan. "Ye
shouldnae luive given it me. I'm daft Avhen I get to the
cartes. "

"Hoot-toot, hoot-toot," said Cluny. "It Avas all
dafKug ; it's all nonsense. Of course, ye'll have your
money back again, and the double of it, if ye'll make so
free with me. It would be a singular thing for me to
keep it. It's not to be supposed that I would be any
hindrance to gentlemen in your situation ; that would
be a singular thing !" cries lie, and began to pull gold
out of his pocket, with a mighty red face.

Alan said nothing, only looked on the ground.

" Will you step to the door with me, sir ? " said I.

Cluny said he would be veiy glad, and followed
me readily enough, but he looked flustered and put
out.

"And now, sir," says I, "I must first acknowledge
your generosity."

" Nonsensical nonsense ! " cries Cluny. " Where's
the generosity ? This is just a most unfortunate affair ;
but what would ye have me do— boxed up in this bee-
skep of a cage of mine — but Just set niy friends to the
cartes, when I can get them ? And if they lose, of

course, it's not to be supposed " And here he came

to a pause.

"Yes," said I, "if they lose, you give them back

their money ; and if they Avin, they carry away yours in

their pouches ! I have said before that I grant your
16

242 KIDNAPPED.

generosity ; but to me, sir, it's a very painful thing to
be placed in this position."

There was a little silence, in which Cluny seemed
always as if he was about to speak, but said nothing.
All the time, he grew redder and redder in the
face.

"I am a young man," said I, "and I ask your
advice. Advise me as you would advise your son. My
friend fairly lost this money, after having fairly gained
a far greater sum of yours ; can I accept it back again ?
would that be the right part for me to play ? Whatever
I do, you can see for yourself it must be hard upon a
man of any pride."

"It's rather hard on me too, Mr. Balfour," said
Cluny, " and ye give me very much the look of a man
that has entrapped poor people to their hurt. I would-
nae have my friends come to any house of mine to ac-
cept affronts ; no," he cried, with a sudden heat of
anger, " nor yet to give them ! "

"And so you see, sir," said I, ''there is something to
be said upon my side ; and this gambling is a very poor
employ for gentlefolks. But I am still waiting your
opinion."

I am sure if ever Cluny hated any man, it was David
Balfour. He looked me all over with a warlike eye,
and I saw the challenge at his lips. But either my
youth disarmed him, or perhaps his own sense of Jus-
tice. Certainly, it was a moi'tifying matter for all con-

KIDNAPPED. 2-43

cerned, and not least for Cluny ; tlie more credit that
he took it as he did.

"Mr. Balfour," said he, "I think you are too nice
and covenanting, but for all that you have the spirit of
a very pretty gentleman. Upon my honest word, ye
may take this money — it's what I would tell my son —
and here's my hand along with it."

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE FLIGHT IN THE HEATHER : THE QUAKREL.

Alan and I were put across Loch Erroclit under
cloud of night, and went down its eastern shore to
another hiding-phice near the head of Loch Rannoch,
whither we were led by one of the gillies from the Cage.
This fellow carried all our luggage and Alan's great-coat
in the bargain, trotting along under the burthen, far
less than the half of which used to weigh me to the
ground, like a stout hill pony with a feather ; yet he
was a man that, in plain contest, I could have broken
on my knee.

Doubtless it was a great relief to walk disencum-
bered ; and perhaps without that relief, and the conse-
quent sense of liberty and lightness, I could not have
walked at all. I was but new risen from a bed of sick-
ness, and there was nothing in the state of our affairs to
hearten me for much exertion ; travelling, as we did,
over the most dismal deserts in Scotland, under a cloudy
heaven, and with divided hearts among the travellers.

For long, we said nothing ; marching alongside or
one behind the other, each with a set countenance ; I,
angry and proud, and drawing what strength I had

KIDNAPPED. 245

from these two violent and sinful feelings : Alan angry
and ashamed, ashamed that he hud lost money, angry
that I should take it so ill.

The thought of a separation ran always the stronger
in my mind ; and the more I approved of it, the more
ashamed I grew of my approval. It would be a fine,
handsome, generous thing, indeed, for Alan to turn
round and say to me : " Go, I am in the most danger,
and my company only increases yours." But for me to
turn to the friend who certainly loved me, and say to
him: ''You are in great danger, I am in but little;
your friendship is a burden ; go, take your risks and

bear your hardships alone '' no, that was impossible ;

and even to think of it privily to myself, made my
cheeks to burn.

And yet Alan had behaved like a child and (what is
worse) a treacherous child. AVhecdling my money from
me while I lay half-conscious was scarce better than
theft ; and yet here he was trudging by my side, with-
out a penny to his name, and by what I could see, quite
blithe to sponge upon the money he had driven me to
beg. True, I was ready to share it with him ; but it
made me rage to see him count upon my readiness.

These were the two things uppermost in my mind ;
and I could open my mouth upon neither without black
ungenerosity. So I did the next worse, and said noth-
ing, nor so much as looked once at my companion, save
with the tail of my eye.

246 KIDNAPPED.

At last, upon the other side of Loch Errocht, going
over a smooth, rushy place, where the walking was easy,
he could bear it no longer, and came close to me.

"David," says he, " this is no way for two friends to
take a small accident. I have to say that I'm sorry ;
and so that's said. And now if you have anything, ye'd
better say it."

''0," says I, "I have nothing."

He seemed disconcerted ; at which I was meanly
pleased.

"No," said he, with rather a tremhling voice, "hut
when I say I was to blame ? "

"Why, of course, ye were to blame," said I, coolly ;
"and you will bear me out that I have never reproached
you."

"Never," says he ; " but ye ken very well that ye've
done worse. Are we to part ? Ye said so once before.
Are ye to say it again ? There's hills and heather
enough between here and the two seas, David ; and I
will own I'm no very keen to stay where I'm no wanted."

This pierced mo like a sword, and seemed to lay bare
my private disloyalty.

"Alan Breck ! " I cried ; and then : " Do you think
I am one to turn my back on you in your chief need ?
You dursn't say it to my face. My whole conduct's
there to give the lie to it. It's true, I fell asleep upon
the Muir ; but that was from weariness, and you do
wrong to cast it up to me "

KIDNAPPED. 247

" Which is what I never did," said Alan.

" But aside from tliat," I continued, " what have I
done that you should even me to dogs by such a suppo-
sition ? I never yet failed a friend, and it's not likely
I'll begin with you. There are things between us that
I can never forget, even if you can. "

"I will only say this to ye, David," said Alan, very
quietly, '' that I have long been owing ye my life, and
now I owe ye money. Ye should try to make that
burden light for me."

This ought to have touched me, and in a manner it
did, but the wrong manner. I felt I was behaving
badly ; and was now not only angry with Alan, but
angry with myself in the bargain ; and it made me the
more cruel.

"You asked me to speak," said I. ''Well, then, I
will. You own yourself that you have done me a dis-
service ; I have had to swallow an affront ; I have never
reproached you, I never named the thing till you did.
And now you blame me," cried I, "because I cannae
laugh and sing as if I was glad to be affronted. The
next thing will be that I'm to go down upon my knees
and thank you for it ! Ye should think more of others,
Alan Breck. If ye thought more of others, ye would
perhaps speak less about yourself ; and when a friend
that likes you very well, has passed over an offence
without a word, you would be blithe to let it lie, instead
of making it a stick to break his back with. By your

248 KIDNAPPED.

own way of it, it was 3^011 that was to l)lamo ; then it
shouldnae bo you to seek the quarrel."

"Aweel," said Alau, "say nae mair."

And we fell back into our former silence ; and came
to our journey's end and supped, and lay down to sleep,
without another word.

The gillie put us across Loch Eannoch in the dusk
of the next day, and gave us his opinion as to our best
route. This was to get us up at once into the tops of
the mountains : to go round by a circuit, turning the
heads of Glen Lyon, Glen Lochay, and Glen Dochart,
and come down upon the lowlands by Kippen and the
upper waters of the Forth. Alan was little pleased with
a route which led us through the country of his blood-
foes, the Glenorchy Campbells. He objected that by
turning to the east, we should come almost at once among
the Athole Stewarts, a race of his own name and lineage,
although following a different chief, and come besides
by a far easier and swifter way to the place whither we
were bound. But the gillie, who was indeed the chief
man of Cluny's scouts, had good reasons to give him on
all hands, naming the force of troops in every district,
and alleging finally (as well as I could understand) that
we should nowhere be so little troubled as in a country
of the Campbells.

Alan gave way at last, but with only half a heart.
** It's one of the dowiest countries in Scotland," said he.
"There's naething there that I ken, but heath, and

KIDNAPPED. 249

crows, and Campl)ol]s. But I see that ye'rc a man of
some penetration ; and be it as ye please ! "

We set forth accordingly by this itinerary ; and for
the best part of three nights travelled on eerie moun-
tains and among the well-heads of wild rivers ; often
buried in mist, almost continually blown and rained
upon, and not once cheered by any glimpse of sunshine.
By day, we lay and slept in the drenching heather ; by
night, incessantly clambered npon breakneck hills and
among rude crags. We often wandered ; we were often
so involved in fog, that we must lie quiet till it light-
ened. A fire was never to be thought of. Our only food
was drammach and a portion of cold meat that we had
carried from the Cage ; and as for drink. Heaven knows
we had no want of water.

This was a dreadful time, rendered the more dreadful
by the gloom of the weather and the country. I was
never warm ; my teeth chattered in my head ; I was
troubled with a very sore tJiroat, such as I had on the
isle ; I had a painful stitch in my side, which never left
me ; and when I slept in my wet bed, with the rain
beating above and the mud oozing below me, it was to
live over again in fancy the worst part of my adven-
tures— to see the tower of Shaws lit by lightning, Ean-
some carried below on the men's backs, Shaun dying on
the round-house floor, or Colin Campbell grasping at
the bosom of his coat. From such broken slumbers, I
Avould be aroused in the gloaming, to sit up in the same

250 KIDNAPPED.

puddle where I had slept and sup cold drammach ; the
rain driving sharp in my face or running down my back
in icy trickles ; the mist enfolding us like as in a gloomy
chamber — or perhaps, if the wind blew, falling suddenly
apart and showing us the gulf of some dark valley where
the streams were crying aloud.

The sound of an infinite number of rivers came up
from all round. In this steady rain, the springs of the
mountain were broken up ; every glen gushed water like
a cistern ; every stream was in high spate, and had filled
and overflowed its channel. During our night tramps,
it was solemn to hear the voice of them below in the val-
leys, now booming like thunder, now with an angry cry.
I could well understand the story of the Water Kelpie,
that demon of the streams, Avho is fabled to keep wailing
and roaring at the ford until the coming of the doomed
traveller. Alan I saw believed it, or half believed it ;
and when the cry of the river rose more than usually
sharp, I was little surprised (though, of course, I would
still be shocked) to see him cross himself in the manner
of the Catholics.

During all these horrid wanderings, we had no famil-
iarity, scarcely even that of speech. The truth is that I
was sickening for my grave, which is my best excuse.
But besides that I was of an unforgiving disposition
from my birth, slow to take offence, slower to forget it,
and now incensed both against my companion and my-
self. For the best part of two days, he was unweariedly

KIDNAPPED. 251

kind ; silent, indeed, but always ready to help, and
always hoping (as I could very well see) that my dis-
})leasure would blow by. For the same length of time,
I stayed in myself, nursing my anger, roughly refusing
his services, and passing him over with my eyes as if he
had been a bush or a stone.

The second, night, or ratlier the peep of the third day,
found us upon a very open hill, so that we could not
follow our usual plan and lie down immediately to eat
and sleep. Before we had reached a place of shelter,
the gray had come pretty clear, for though it still
rained, the clouds ran higher ; and Alan, looking in my
face, showed some marks of concern.

"Ye had better let me take your pack," said he, for
perhaps the ninth time since we parted from the scout
beside Loch Eannoch.

" I do very well, I thank you,'' said I, as cold as ice.

Alan flushed darkly. " I'll not offer it again," he
said. " I'm not a patient man, David."'

" I never said you were," said I, which was exactly
the rude, silly speech of a boy of ten.

Alan made no answer at the time, but his conduct
answered for him. Henceforth, it is to be thought, he
quite forgave himself for the affair at Cluny's ; cocked
his hat again, walked jauntily, whistled airs, and looked
at me upon one side with a provoking smile.

The third night we were to pass through the western
end of the country of Balquidder. It came clear and

252 KIDNAPPED.

cold, with a toiicli in the air like frost, and a northerly
wind that blew the clouds away and made the stars
bright. The streams were full, of course, and still
made a great noise among the hills ; but I observed that
Alan thought no more upon the Kelpie and was in high
good spirits. As for me, the change of weather came
too late ; I had lain in the mire so long that (as the
Bible has it) my very clothes ''abhorred me ; " I was dead
weary, deadly sick and full of pains and shiverings ; the
chill of the wind went through me, and the sound of it
confused my ears. In this poor state, I had to bear from
my companion something in the nature of a persecution.
He spoke a good deal, and never without a taunt.
"Whig" was the best name he had to give me.
"Here," he would say, "here's a dub for ye to jump,
my Whiggie ! I ken you're a fine jumper ! " And so
on ; all the time with a gibing voice and face.

I knew it was my own doing, and no one else's ; but
I was too miserable to repent. 1 felt I could drag
myself but little farther ; pretty soon, I must lie down
and die on these wet mountains like a sheep or a fox,
and my bones must whiten there like the bones of a
beast. My head was light, perhaps ; but I began to
love the prospect, I began to glory in the thought of
such a death, alone in the desert, with the wild eagles
besieging my last moments. Alan would repent then,
I thought ; he would remember, Avhen I was dead, how
much he owed me, and the remembrance would be

KIDNAPPED. 253

torture. So I went like a sick, silly, and bad-hearted
schoolboy, feeding my anger against a fellow-man, when
I would have been better on my knees, crying on God
for mercy. And at each of Alan's taunts, I hugged
myself. "Ah !" thinks I to mj^self, "I have a better
taunt in readiness ; when I lie down and die, you will
feel it like a buffet in your face ; ah, what a revenge !
ah, how you will regret your ingratitude and cruelty ! "

All the Avhile, I was growing worse and worse. Once
I had fallen, my legs simply doubling under me, and
this had struck Alan for the moment ; but I was afoot
so briskly, and set off again with such a natural manner,
that he soon forgot tlie incident. Flushes of heat went
over me, and then spasms of shuddering. The stitch in
my side Avas hardly bearable. At last, I began to feel
that I could trail myself no farther ; and with that
there came on me all at once the wish to have it out
with Alan, let my anger blaze, and be done with my life
in a more sudden manner. He had Just called me
"Whig." I stopped.

" Mr. Stewart,'' said I, in a voice that quivered like a
fiddle-string, "you are older than I am, and should
know your manners. Do you think it either very wise
or very witty to cast my politics in my teeth ? I
thought, where folk differed, it was the part of gentle-
men to differ civilly ; and if I did not, I may tell you I
could find a better taunt than some of yours."

Alan had stopped opposite to me, his hat cocked, his

254 KIDNAPPED.

hands in his breeches pockets, his head a little to one
side. He listened, smiling evilly, as I could see by the
starlight ; and when I had done he began to whistle a
Jacobite air. It was the air made in mockery of General
Cope's defeat at Preston Pans : —

" Hey, Johnnie Cope, are ye waukin' yet ?
And are your drums a-beatin' yet ? "

And it came in my mind that Alan, on the day of that
battle, hud been engaged upon the royal side.

"Why do ye take that air, Mr. Stewart?" said I,
" Is that to remind me you have been beaten on both
sides?"

The air stopped on Alan's lips. " David ! " said he.

"But it's time these manners ceased," I continued ;
" and I mean you shall henceforth speak civilly of my
King and my good friends the Campbells."

" I am a Stewart " began Alan.

"0 !" says I, "I ken ye bear a king's name. But
you are to remember, since I have been in the Highlands,
I have seen a good many of those that bear it ; and the
best I can say of them is this, that they would be none
the worse of washing."

"Do you know that you insult me ?" said Alan, very
low.

" I am sorry for that," said I, "for I am not done ;
and if you distaste the sermon, I doubt the pirliecue*

* A second sermon.

KIDNAPPED. 255

will please you as little. You have been chased in the
field by the grown men of my party ; it seems a poor
kind of pleasure to outface a boy. Both the Campbells
and the Whigs have beaten you ; you have run before
them like a hare. It behoves you to speak of them as
of your betters."

Alan stood quite still, the tails of his great-coat clap-
ping behind him in the wind.

'' This is a pity," he said at last. " There are things
said that cannot be passed over."

"I never asked you to," said I. "I am as ready as
yourself. "

"Ready?" said he.

" Ready," I repeated. " I am no blower and boaster
like some that I could name. Come on ! " And draw-
ing my sword, I fell on guard as Alan himself had
taught me.

" David !" he cried. "Are ye daft? I cannae draw
upon ye, David. It's fair murder."

"That was your lookout when you insulted me,"
said I.

"It's the truth!" cried Alan, and he stood for a
moment, wringing his mouth in his hand like a man in
sore perplexity. "It's the bare truth," he said, and drew
his sword. But before I could touch his blade with
mine, he had thrown it from him and fallen to the
ground. " Na, na," he kept saying, "na, na — I can-
nae, I cannae."

256 KIDNAPPED.

At this the last of my anger oozed all out of me •, and
I found myself only sick, and sorry, and blank, and
wondering at myself. I would have given the world to
take back what I had said ; but a word once spoken,
who can recapture it ? I minded me of all Alan's
kindness and courage in the past, iiow he had helped
and cheered and borne with me in our evil days ; and
then recalled my own insults, and saw that I had lost
for ever that doughty friend. At the same time, the
sickness that hung upon me seemed to redouble, and
the pang in my side was like a sword for sharpness. I
thought I must have swooned where I stood.

This it was that gave me a thought. No apology
could blot out what I had said ; it was needless to think
of one, none could cover the offence ; but where an
apology was vain, a mere cry for help might bring Alan
back to my side. I put my pride away from me.
"Alan ! " I said ; " if you cannae help me, I must Just
die here."

He started up sitting, and looked at me.

" It's true," said I. " I'm by with it. 0, let me get
into the bield of a house — I'll can die there easier." I
had no need to pretend ; whether I chose or not, I spoke
in a weeping voice that would have melted a heart of
stone.

''Can ye walk," asked Alan,

"No," said I, "not without help. This last hour,
my legs have been fainting under me ; I've a stitch in

KIDNAPPED. 257

my side like a red-hot iron ; I cannae breathe right. If
I die, ye'll can forgive me, Ahm ? In my heart, I liked
ye fine— even when I was the angriest."

"Wheest, wheesht!" cried Alan. "Dinnae say
that ! David, man, ye ken — — " He shut his mouth
upon a sob. " Let me get my arm about ye," he con-
tinued ; " that's the way ! Now lean upon me hard.
Grude kens where there's a house ! We're in Balwhidder,
too ; there should be no want of houses, no, nor friends'
houses here. Do you gang easier so, Davie ? "

*• Ay," said I, "I can be doing this way;" and I
pressed his arm with my hand.

Again he came near sobbing. "Davie," said he,
" I'm no a right man at all ; I have neither sense nor
kindness ; I couldnae remember ye were just a bairn, I
couldnae see ye were dying on your feet ; Davie, ye'll
have to try and forgive me."

"0, man, let's say no more about it!" said I.
" We're neither one of us to mend the other — that's the
truth ! We must just bear and forbear, man Alan ! 0,
but my stitch is sore ! Is there nae house ? "

" I'll find a house to ye, David," he said, stoutly.
"We'll follow down the burn, where there's bound to
be houses. My poor man, will ye no be better on my
back?"

"0, Alan," says I, "and me a good twelve inches
taller ? "

"Ye're no such a thing,'" cried Alan, with a start.
17

268 KIDNAPPED.

" There may be a trifling matter of an inch or two ; I'm
no saying I'm just exactly what ye would call a tall
man, whatever ; and I daresay," he added, his voice
tailing off in a laughable manner, " now when I come
to think of it, I daresay ye'll be Just about right. Ay,
it'll be a foot, or near hand ; or may be even mair ! "

It was sweet and laughable to hear Alan eat his words
up in the fear of some fresh quarrel. I could have
laughed, had not my stitch caught me so hard ; but if
I had laughed, I think I must have wept too.

" Alan," cried I, "what makes ye so good to me?
what makes ye care for such a thankless fellow ?"

''Deed, and I don't know," said Alan. "For just
precisely what I thought I liked about ye, was that ye
never quarrelled ; — and now I like ye better !"

CHAPTER XXV.

IK I! A LQU I 1) D E R,

At the door of the first liouse we came to, Alan
knocked, which was no very safe enterprise in such a
part of the Highlands as the Braes of Balquidder. No
great elan held rule there ; it was filled and disputed by
small septs, and broken remnants, and what they call
"chiefless folk," driven into the wild country about the
springs of Forth and Teith by the advance of the Camp-
bells. Here were Stewarts and Maclarens, which came
to the same thing, for the Maclarens followed Alan's
chief in war, and made but one clan with Appin. Here,
too, were many of that old, proscribed, nameless, red-
handed clan of the Macgregors. They had always been
ill considered, and now worse than ever, having credit
with no side or party in the whole country of Scotland.
Their chief, Macgregor of Macgregor, was in exile ; the
more immediate leader of that part of them about Bal-
quidder, James More, Eob Roy's eldest son, lay waiting
his trial in Edinburgh Castle ; they were in ill-blood
with Highlander and Lowlander, with the Grahames,
the Maclarens and the Stewarts ; and Alan, who took
up the quarrel of any friend, however distant, was ex-
tremely wishful to avoid them.

260 KIDNAPPED.

Cliiince served us very Avell ; for it was a household
of Muclarens that we found, where Alan was not only
welcome for his name's sake but known by reputation.
Here, then, I was got to bed without delay, and a doctor
fetched, who found me in a sorry plight. But whether
because he was a very good doctor, or I a very young,
strong man, I lay bedridden for no more than a week,
and before a month I was able to take the road again
with a good heart.

All this time Alau would not leave me ; though I
often pressed him, and indeed his foolhardiness in stay-
ing was a common subject of outcry with the two or
three friends that were let into the secret. He hid by
day in a hole of the braes under- a little wood ; and at
night, when the coast was clear, would come into the
house to visit me. I need not say if I was pleased to
see him ; Mrs. Maclaren, our hostess, thought nothing
good enough for such a guest ; and as Duncan Dhu
(which was the name of our host) had a j^air of pipes in
his house and was much of a lover of music, the time
of my recovery was quite a festival, and we commonly
turned night into day.

The soldiers let us be ; although once a party of two
companies and some dragoons went by in the bottom of
the valley, where I could see them through the window
as I lay in bed. What was much more astonishing, no
magistrate came near me, and there was no question
put of whence I came or whither I was going ; and m

KIDNAPPED. 261

that time of excitement, I was as free of all inquiry as
thougli I had lain in a desert. Yet my presence was
known before I left to all the people in Balquidder and
the adjacent parts ; many coming about the house on
visits, and these (after the custom of the country) spread-
ing the news among their neighbours. The bills, too,
had now been printed. There was one pinned near the
foot of my bed, where I could read my own not very
flattering portrait and, in larger characters, the amount
of the blood-money that had been set upon my life.
Duncan Dhu and the rest that knew that I had come there
in Alan's comjiany, could have entertained no doubt of
who I was ; and many others must have had their guess.
For though I had changed my clothes, I could not
change my age or person ; and lowland boys of eighteen
were not so rife in these parts of the world, and above
all about that time, that they could fail to put one
thing with another and connect me with the bill. So
it was, at least. Other folk keep a secret among two
or three near friends, and somehow it leaks out ; but
among these clansmen, it is told to a whole countryside,
and they will keep it for a century.

There was but one thing happened worth narrating ;
and that is the visit I had of Robin Oig, one of the sons
of the notorious Rob Roy. He Avas sought upon all
sides on a charge of carrying a young woman from
Balfron and marrying her (as was alleged) by force ;
yet he stept about Balquidder like a gentleman iu his

262 KIDNAPPED,

own walled policy. It was he who had shot James
Maclaren at the plough stilts, a quarrel never satisfied ;
yet he walked into the house of his blood enemies as a
rider might into a public inn.

Duncan had time to pass me word of who it was ;
and we looked at one another in concern. You should
understand, it was then close upon the time of Alan's
coming ; the two were little likely to agree ; and yet if
we sent word or sought to make a signal, it was sure to
arouse suspicion in a man under so dark a cloud as the
Macgregor.

He came in Avith a great show of civility, but like
a man among inferiors ; took off his bonnet to Mrs.
Maclaren, but clapped it on his head again to speak to
Duncan ; and having thus set himself (as he would have
thought) in a proper light, came to my bedside and
bowed.

"I am given to know, sir," says he, "that your
name is Balfour."

"They call me David Balfour," said I, "at your
service."

"I would give ye my name in return, sir," he
replied, "but it's one somewhat blown upon of late
days ; and it'll perhaps suflBce if I tell ye that I am own
brother to James More Drummond, or Macgregor, of
whom ye will scarce have failed to hear."

" No, sir," said I, a little alarmed ; "nor yet of your
father, Macgregor-Campbell. " And I sat up and bowed

KIDNAPPED. 263

in bed ; for I thought best to compliment him, in case
he was proud of liaving had an outlaw to his father.

He bowed in return. " But what I am corae to say,
sir," he went on, "is this. In the year '45, my brother
raised a part of the 'Gregara,' and marched six com-
panies to strike a stroke for the good side ; and the
surgeon that marched with our clan and cured my
brother's leg when it was broken in the brush at
Preston Pans, was a gentleman of the same name pre-
cisely as yourself. He was brother to Balfour of Baith ;
and if you are in any reasonable degree of nearness one
of that gentleman's kin, I have come to put myself and
my people at your command."

You are to remember that I knew no more of my
descent than any cadger's dog ; my uncle, to be sure,
had prated of some of our high connections, but nothing
to the present purpose ; and there was nothing left me
but that bitter disgrace of owning that I could not tell.

Robin told me shortly he was sorry he had put him-
self about, turned his back upon me without a sign of
salutation, and as he went towards the door, I could hear
him telling Duncan that I was "only some kinless loon
that didn't know his own father." Angry as I was at
these words and ashamed of my own ignorance, I could
scarce keep from smiling that a man who was under the
lash of the law (and was indeed hanged some three
years later) should be so nice as to the descent of his
acquaintances.

264 KIDNAPPED.

Just in the door, lie met Alan coming in ; and the
two drew back and looked at each other like strange
dogs. They were neither of them big men, but they
seemed fairly to swell out with pride. Each wore a
sword, and by a movement of his haunch, thrust clear
the hilt of it, so that it might be the more readily
grasped and the blade drawn.

" Mr. Stewart, I am thinking," says Kobin.

" Troth, Mr. Macgrcgor, it's not a name to be ashamed
of," answered Alan.

"I did not know ye were in my country, sir," says
Robin.

"It sticks in my mind that I am in the country of
my friends the Maclarens," says Alan.

" That's a kittle point,'' returned the other. " There
may be two words to say to that. But I think I will
have heard that you are a man of your sword ? "

" Unless ye were born deaf, Mr. Macgregor, ye will
have heard a good deal more than that," says Alan. " I
am not the only man that can draw steel in Appin ; and
when my kinsman and captain, Ardshiel, had a talk
with a gentleman of your name, not so many years back,
I could never hear that the Macgregor had the best
of it."

" Do ye mean my father, sir ? " says Robin.

''Well, I wouldnae wonder," said Alan. "The gen-
tleman I have in my mind had the ill-taste to clap
Campbell to his name."

KIDNAPPED. 265

" My father was an old man," returned Kobin. **The
match was unequal. You and me would make a better
pair, sir."

" I was thinking that," said Alan.

I was half out of bed, and Duncan had been hanging
at the elbow of these fighting cocks, ready to intervene
upon the least occasion. But when that word was
uttered, it was a ease of now or never ; and Duncan,
with something of a white face to be sure, thrust him-
self between.

" Gentlemen," said he, " I will have been thinking
of a very different matter, whateffer. Here are my
pipes, and here are you two gentlemen who are baith
acclaimed pipers. It's an auld dispute Avhieh one of
ye's the best. Here will be a braw chance to settle it."

" Why, sir," said Alan, still addressing Eobin, from
whom indeed he had not so much as shifted his eyes,
nor yet Robin from him, "why, sir," says* Alan, "I
think I will have heard some sough of the sort. Have
ye music, as folk say ? Are ye a bit of a piper ? "

" I can pipe like a Macrimmon ! " cries Robin.

"And that is a very bold word," quoth Alan.

"I have made bolder words good before now," re-
turned Robin, " and that against better adversaries." '

"It is easy to try that," says Alan.

Duncan Dhu made haste to bring out the pair of
pipes that was his principal possession, and to set before
his guests a muttonham and a bottle of that drink which

266 KIDNAPPED.

they call Athole brose, and which is made of old
whiskey, strained lioney and sweet cream, slowly beaten
together in the right order and proportion. The two
enemies were still on the very breach of a quarrel ; but
down they sat, one upon each side of the peat fire, with
a mighty show of politeness. Maclaren pressed them to
taste his muttonham and "the wife's brose," reminding
them the wife was out of Athole and had a name far and
wide for her skill in that confection. But Robin put
aside these hospitalities as bad for the breath.

" I would have ye to remark, sir," said Alan, "that
I havenae broken bread for near upon ten hours, which
will be worse for the breath than any brose in Scot-
land."

" I will take no advantages, Mr. Stewart," replied
Robin. " Eat and drink ; Til follow you."

Each ate a small portion of the ham and drank a
glass of the brose to Mrs. Maclaren ; and then, after a
great number of civilities, Robin took the pipes and
played a little spring in a very ranting manner.

"Ay, ye can blow," said Alan; and taking the in-
strument from his rival, he first played the same spring
in a manner identical with Robin's ; and then wandered
into variations, which, as he went on, he decorated with
a perfect flight of grace-notes, such as pipers love, and
call the "warblers."

I had been pleased with Robin's playing, Alan's
ravished me.

KIDNAPPED. 267

" That's no very bad, Mr. Stewart," said the rival,
"but ye show a poor device in your warbler."

"Me!" cried Alan, the blood starting to his face.
"I give ye the lie."

"Do ye own yourself beaten at the pipes, then,"
said Eobin, " that ye seek to change them for the
sword ? "

"And that's very well said, Mr. Macgregor," returned
Alan ; " and in the meantime" (laying a strong accent
on the word) " I take back the lie. I appeal to Dun-
can."

"Indeed, ye need appeal to naebody," said Robin.
"Ye're a far better judge than any Maclaren in Bal-
whidder : for it's a God's truth that you're a very cred-
itable piper for a Stewart. Hand me the pipes."

Alan did as he asked ; and Robin proceeded to imi-
tate and correct some part of Alan's variations, which it
seemed that he remembered perfectly.

"Ay, ye have music," said Alan, gloomily.

"And now be the judge yourself, Mr. Stewart," said
Robin ; and taking up the variations from the begin-
ning, he worked them throughout to so new a purpose,
with such ingenuity and sentiment, and with so odd a
fancy and so quick a knack in the grace-notes, that I
was amazed to hear him.

As for Alan, his face grew dark and hot, and he sat
and gnawed his fingers, like a man under some deep
affront. "Enough !" he cried. "Ye can blow the

268 Kir>NAPPED.

pipes — make the most of that." And he made as if
to rise.

But Robin only held out his hand as if to ask for
silence, and struck into the slow music of a pibroch.
It was a fine piece of music in itself, and nobly played ;
but it seems besides it was a piece peculiar to the Appin
Stewarts and a chief favorite with Alan. The first
notes were scarce out, before there came a change in his
face ; when the time quickened, he seemed to grow
restless in his seat ; and long before that piece was at
an end, the last signs of his anger died from him, and
he had no thought but for the music.

"Eobin Oig," he said, when it was done, "ye are a
great piper. I am not fit to blow in the same kingdom
with ye. Body of me ! ye have mair music in your
sporran than I have in my head ! And though it
still sticks in my mind that I could maybe show ye
another of it with the cold steel, I warn ye before
hand — it'll no be fair ! It would go against my heart
to haggle a man that can blow the pipes as you
can ! "

Thereupon the quarrel was made up ; all night long
the brose was going and the pipes changing hands ; and
the day had come pretty bright, and the three men were
none the better for what they had been taking, before
Robin as much as thought upon the road.

It was the last I saw of him, for I was in the Low
Countries at the University of Leyden, when he stood

KIDNAPPED. 269

his trial, and was hauged in the Grassmarket. And I
have told this at so great length, partly because it was
the last incident of any note that befell me on the
wrong side of the Highland Line, and partly because
(as the man came to be hanged) it's in a manner
history.

CHAPTER XXVI.

WE PASS THE FOKTH.

The month, as I have said, was not yet out, but it
was already far through August, and beautiful warm
weather, with every sign of an early and great harvest,
when I was pronounced able for my journey. Our
money was now run to so low an ebb that we must
think first of all on speed ; for if we came not soon to
Mr. Eankeillor's, or if when we came there he should
fail to help me, we must surely starve. In Alan's view,
besides, the hunt must have now greatly slackened ; and
the line of the Forth, and even Stirling Bridge, which
is the main pass over that river, would be watched with
little interest.

" It's a chief principle in military affairs," said he,
"to go where ye are least expected. Forth is our
trouble ; ye ken the saying, ' Forth bridles the wild
Hielandman.' Well, if we seek to creep round about
the head of that river and come down by Kippen or
Balf ron, it's just precisely there that they'll be looking to
lay hands on us. But if we stave on straight to the
auld Brig' of Stirling, I'll lay my sword they let us pass
unchallenged."

KIDNAPPED. 271

The first night, accordingly, we pushed to the house
of a Maclaren in Strathire, a friend of Duncan's, where
we slept the twenty-first of the month, and whence we
set forth again about the fall of night to make another
easy stage. The twenty-second we lay in a heather-
bush on a hillside in Uam Var, within view of a herd of
deer, the happiest ten hours of sleep in a fine, breathing
sunshine and on bone-dry ground, that I have ever
tasted. That night w^e struck Allan Water, and fol-
lowed it down ; and coming to the edge of the hills saw
the whole Carse of Stirling underfoot, as flat as a pan-
cake, with the town and castle on a hill in the midst of
it, and tlie moon shining on the Links of Forth.

" Now," said Alan, "I kenna if ye care, but ye're in
your own land again. We passed the Hieland Line in
the first hour ; and now if we could but pass yon crooked
water, we might cast our bonnets in the air."

In Allan Water, near by where it falls into the Forth,
we found a little sandy islet, overgrown with burdock,
butterbur, and the like low plants, that would just cover
us if we lay flat. Here it was we made our camp,
within plain view of Stirling Castle, whence we could
hear the drums beat as some part of the garrison
paraded. Shearers worked all day in a field on one side
of the river, and we could hear the stones going on the
hooks and the voices and even the words of the men
talking. It behoved to lie close and keep silent. But
the sand of the little isle was sun-warm, the green plants

272 KIDNAPPED.

gave us shelter for our heads, we had food and drink in
plenty ; and to crown all, we were within sight of safety.

As soon as the shearers quit their work and the
dusk began to fall, we waded ashore and struck for the
Bridge of Stirling, keeping to the fields and under the
field fences.

The bridge is close under the castle hill, an old, high,
narrow bridge with pinnacles along the parapet ; and
you may conceive with how much interest I looked upon
it, not only as a place famous in history, but as the very
doors of salvation to Alan and myself. The moon was
not yet up when we came there ; a few lights shone
along the front of the fortress, and lower down a few
lighted windows in the town ; but it was all mighty
still, and there seemed to be no guard upon the passage.

I was for pushing straight across ; but Alan was
more wary.

"It looks unco' quiet," said he; "but for all that
we'll lie down here cannily behind a dyke, and make
sure."

So we lay for about a quarter of an hour, whiles whis-
pering, whiles lying still and hearing nothing earthly
but the washing of the water on the piers. At last there
came by an old, hobbling woman with a crutch stick ;
who first stopped a little, close to where we lay, and be-
moaned herself and the long way she had travelled ; and
then set forth again up the steep spring of the bridge.
The woman was so little, and the night still so dark.

KIDNAPPED. 273

that we soon lost sight of lier ; only heard the sound of
her steps, and her stick, and a cough that she had by
fits, draw slowly further away.

"She's bound to be across now,'' I whispered.

"Na," said Alan, ''her foot still sounds boss* upon
the bridge."

And just then — ' ' Who goes ? " cried a voice, and we
heard the butt of a musket rattle on the stones. I must
suppose the sentry had been sleeping, so that had we
tried, we might have passed unseen ; but he was awake
now, and the cliance forfeited.

"This '11 never do," said Alan. "This '11 never,
never do for us, David."

And without another word, he began to crawl away
through the fields ; and a little after, being well out of
eye-shot, got to his feet again, and struck along a road
that led to the eastward. I could not conceive what he
was doing ; and indeed I was so sharply cut by the dis-
appointment, that I was little likely to be pleased with
anything. A moment back, and I had seen myself
knocking at Mr. Kankeillor's door to claim my inheri-
tance, like a hero in a ballad ; and here was I back
again, a wandering, hunted blackguard, on the wrong
side of Forth.

" Well?" said I.

" AVell," said Alan, " what would ye have ? They're

none such fools as I took them for. We have still the

* Hollow.
18

274 KIDNAPPED.

Forth to pass, Davie — weary fall the rains that fed and
the hillsides that guided it ! "

" And why go east ? " said I.

"Ou, just upon the chance !" said he. "If we ean-
nae pass the river, we'll have to see what we can do for
the firth. '^

"There are fords upon the river, and none upon the
firth," said I.

" To be sure there are fords, and a bridge forbye,"
quoth Alan ; " and of what service, when they are
watched ? "

" Well," said I, " but a river can be swum."

"By them that have the skill of it," returned he;
"but I have yet to hear that either you or me is much
of a hand at that exercise ; and for my own part, I swim
like a stone. "

"I'm not up to you in talking back, Alan,'' I said;
"but I can see we're making bad worse. If it's hard
to pass a river, it stands to reason it must be worse to
pass a sea."

" But there's such a thing as a boat," says Alan, "or
I'm the more deceived."

"Ay, and such a thing as money," says I. "But
for us that have neither one nor other, they might just
as well not have been invented."

" Ye think so ? " said Alan.

"I do that," said I.

"David," says he, " ye're a man of small invention

KIDNAPPED. 275

and less faith. But let ine set my wits upon the hone,
and if I cannae beg, borrow, nor yet steal a boat, I'll
make one ! "

" I think I see ye ! " said I. " And what's more than
all that : if ye pass a bridge, it can tell no tales ; but if
we pass the firth, there's the boat on the wrong side —
somebody must have brought it— the countryside will
all be in a bizz "

" Man ! " cried Alan, " if I make a boat, I'll make a
body to take it back again ! So deave me with no more
of your nonsense, but walk (for that's what you've got
to do)— and let Alan think for ye."

All night, then, we walked through the north side of
the Carse under the high line of the Ochil mountains ;
and by Alloa and Clackmannan and Culross, all of
which we avoided ; and about ten in the morning,
mighty hungry and tired, came to the little clachan of
Limekilns. This is a place that sits near in by the
watei-side, and looks across the Hope to the town of the
Queensferry. Smoke went up from both of these, and
from other villages and farms upon all lumds. The
fields were being reaped ; two ships lay anchored, and
boats were coming and going on the Hope. It was al-
together a right pleasant sight to me ; and I could not
take my fill of gazing at these comfortable, green, cul-
tivated hills and the busy people both of the field and
sea.

For all that, there was Mr. Rankeillor's house on the

276 KIDNAPPED.

south shore, where I had no doubt wealtli awaited me ;
and here was I upon the north, clad in poor enough
attire of an outlandish fashion, with three silver shil-
lings left to nie of all my fortune, a price set upon my
head, and an outlawed man for my sole company,

"0, Alan! "said I, "to think of it! Over there,
there's all that heart could want waiting me ; and the
birds go over, and the boats go over — all that please can
go, but Just me only ! 0, man, but it's a heartbreak ! "

In Limekilns we entered a small change-house, which
we only knew to be a public by the wand over the door,
and bought some bread and cheese from a good-looking
lass that was the servant. This we carried with us in a
bundle, meaning to sit and eat it in a bush of wood on
the sea-shore, that we saw some third part of a mile in
front. As we went, I kept looking across the water
and sighing to myself ; and though I took no heed of it,
Alan had fallen into a muse. At last he stopped in the
way.

"Did ye take heed of the lass we bought this of?"
says he, tapping on the bread and cheese.

"To be sure," said I, "and a bonny lass she was."

"Ye thought that ? " cries he. " Man David, that's
good news."

" In the name of all that's wonderful, why so ? " says
I. " What good can that do ? "

" Well," said Alan, with one of his droll looks, " I
was rather in hopes it would maybe get us that boat."

KIDNAPPED. 277

"If it were the other way about, it would be liker
it," said I.

"That's all that you ken, ye see," said Alan. "I
don't want the lass to fall in love with ye, I want her to
be sorry for ye, David ; to which end, there is no man-
ner of need that she should take you for a beauty. Let
me see " (looking me curiously over). " I wish ye were
a wee thing paler ; but apart from that ye'U do fine for
my purpose — ^ye have a fine, hang-dog, rag-and-tatter,
clappermaclaw kind of a look to ye, as if ye had stolen
the coat from a potato-bogle. Come ; right about, and
back to the change-house for that boat of ours."

I followed him laughing.

"David Balfour," said he, "ye're a very funny
gentleman by your way of it, and this is a very funny
employ for ye, no doubt. For all that, if ye have any
affection for my neck (to say nothing of your own) ye
will perhajis be kind enough to take this matter respon-
sibly. I am going to do a bit of play-acting, the bottom
ground of which is just exactly as serious as the gallows
for the pair of us. So bear it, if ye please, in mind,
and conduct yourself according."

" Well, well," said I, " have it as you will."

As we got near the clachan, he made me take his arm
and hang upon it like one almost helpless with weari-
ness ; and by the time he pushed open the change-house
door, he seemed to be half carrying me. The maid
appeared surprised (as well she might be) at our

278 KIDNAPPED.

sjieedy return ; but Alan had no word.s to spare for her
in explanation, helped me to a chair, called for a tass of
brandy with which be fed me in little sips, and then
breaking up the breai! and cheese helped me to cat it
like a nursery -lass ; the whole with that grave, con-
cerned, affectionate ct mtenance, that might have im-
posed upon a Judge. It was small wonder if the maid
were taken with the picture we presented, of a poor,
sick, overwrought lad and his most tender comrade.
She drew quite near, and stood leaning with her back
on the next table.

" What's like wrong with him ?" said she at last.

Alan turned upon her, to my great wonder, with a
kind of fury. "Wrong?" cries he. "He's walked
more hundreds of miles than he has hairs upon his
chin, and slept oftener in wet heather than dry sheets.
Wrong, quo' she ! Wrong enough, I would think !
Wrong, indeed ! " and he kept grumbling to himself, as
he fed me, like a man ill-pleased.

" He's young for the like of that," said the maid.

"Ower young," said Alan, with his back to her.

" He would be better riding," says she.

"And where could I get a horse for him ?" cried
Alan, turning on her with the same appearance of fury.
" Would ye have me steal ? "

I thought this roughness would have sent her off in
dudgeon, as indeed it closed her mouth for the time.
But my companion knew very well what he was doing ;

KIDNAPPED. 279

and for as simple as he was in some things of life, had
a great fund of roguishness in such affairs as these.

'*Ye neednae tell me," she said at last — ''ye're
gentry."

" Well," said Alan, softened a little (I believe against
his will) by this artless comment, "and suppose we
were ? did ever you hear that gentrice put money in
folk's pockets ? "

She sighed at this, as if she were herself some disin-
herited great lady. ''No," says she, "that's true in-
deed."

I was all this while chafing at the part I played, and
sitting tongue-tied between shame and merriment ; but
somehow at this I could hold in no longer, and bade
Alan let me be, for I was better already. My voice
stuck in my throat, for I ever hated to take part in lies ;
but my very embarrassment helped on the plot, for the
lass no doubt set down my husky voice to sickness and
fatigue.

"Has he nae friends ?" said she, in a tearful voice.

"That has he so," cried Alan, "if we could but win
to them ! — friends and rich friends, beds to lie in, food
to eat, doctors to see him— and here he must tramp in
the dubs and sleep in the heather like a beggarman."

" And why that ?" says the lass.

"My dear," says Alan, "I cannae very safely say;
but I'll tell ye what I'll do instead," says he, "I'll
whistle ye a bit tune." And with that he leaned pretty

280 KIDNAPPED.

far over the table, and in a mei'c breath of a whistle, but
with a wonderful pretty sentiment, gave her a few bars
of " Charlie is my darling."

" Wheesht," says she, and looked over her shoulder to
the door.

'* That's it," said Alan.

'' And him so young ! " cried the lass.

"He's old enough to " and Alan struck his fore-
finger on the back part of his neck, meaning that I was
old enough to lose my head.

"It would be a black shame," she cried, flushing
high.

"It's what will be, though," said Alan, "unless we
manage the better."

At this the lass turned and ran out of that part of the
house, leaving us alone together, Alan m high good
humour at the furthering of his schemes, and I in bitter
dudgeon at being called a Jacobite and treated like a
child.

"Alan," I cried, "I can stand no more of this."

" Ye'll have to sit it then, Davie," said he. " For if
ye upset the pot now, ye may scrape your own life out
of the fire, but Alan Breck is a dead man."

This was so true that I could only groan ; and even
my groan served Alan's purpose, for it was overheard by
the lass as she came flying in again with a dish of white
puddings and a bottle of strong ale.

" Poor lamb ! " says she, and had no sooner set the

KIDNAPPED. 281

meat before us, than she touched me on the shoulder
with a little friendly touch, as much as to bid me cheer
up. Then she told us to fall to, and there would be no
more to pay ; for the inn was her own, or at least her
father's, and he was gone for the day to Pittencrieff.
We waited for no second bidding, for bread and cheese
is but cold comfort, and the puddings smelt excellently
well ; and while we sat and ate, she took up that same
place by the next table, looking on, and thinking, and
frowning to herself, and drawing the string of her apron
through her hand.

" I'm thinking ye have rather a long tongue," she
said at last to Alan.

"Ay," said Alan; "but ye see I ken the folk I
speak to."

"I would never betray ye," said she, "if ye mean
that."

" No," said he, " ye're not that kind. But I'll tell
ye what ye would do, ye would help,"

" I couldnae," said she, shaking her head. " Na, I
couldnae."

" No," said he, " but if ye could ?"

She answered him nothing.

"Look here, my lass," said Alan, "there are boats
in the kingdom of Fife, for I saw two (no less) upon
the beach, as I came in by your town's end. Now if
we could have the use of a boat to pass under cloud of
night into Lothian, and some secret, decent kind of a

282 KIDNAPPED.

man to bring that boat back again and keep his council,
there would be two souls saved — mine to all likelihood
— his to a dead surety. If we lack that boat, we have
but three shillings left in this wide world ; and where
to go, and how to do, and what other place there is for
us except the chains of a gibbet — I give you my naked
word, I kenna ! Shall we go wanting, lassie ? Are ye
to lie in your warm bed and think upon us, when the
wind gowls in the chimney and the rain tirls on the
roof ? Are ye to eat your meat by the cheeks of a red
fire, and think upon this poor sick lad of mine, biting
his finger-ends on a blae muir for cauld and hunger ?
Sick or sound, he must aye be moving ; with the death-
grapple at his throat, he must aye be trailing in the rain
on the long roads ; and when he gants his last on a
rickle of cauld stanes, there will be nae friends near him
but only me and God."

At this appeal, I could see the lass was in great
trouble of mind, being tempted to help us, and yet in
some fear she might be helping malefactors ; and so now
I detei'mined to step in myself and to allay her scruples
with a portion of the truth.

"Did you ever hear," said I, "of Mr. Rankeillor of
the Queen sferry ?"

"Rankeillor the writer?" said she. "I daursay
that ! "

" Well," said I, " it's to his door that I am bound,
so you may judge by that if I am an ill-doer ; and I will

KIDNAPPED. 283

tell you more, that though I am indeed, by a dreadful
error, in some peril of my life, King George has no
truer friend in all Scotland than myself."

Her face cleared up mightily at this, although Alan's
darkened.

"That's more than I would ask," said she. "Mr.
Rankeillor is a kennt man." And she bade us finish our
meat, get clear of the Clachan as soon as mightbe, and
lie close in the bit wood on the sea-beach. "And ye
cau trust me," says she, "I'll find some means to put
you over."

At this we waited for no more, but shook hands
with her upon the bargain, made short work of the
puddings, and set forth again from Limekilns as far as
to the wood. It was a small piece of perhaps a score of
elders and hawthorns, and a few young ashes, not thick
enough to veil us from passers-by upon the road or
beach. Here we must lie, however, making the best of
the brave warm weather and the good hopes we now
had of a deliverance, and planning more particularly
what remained for us to do.

We had but one trouble all day : when a strolling
piper came and sat in the same wood with us ; a red-
nosed, blear-eyed, drunken dog, with a great bottle of
whiskey in his pocket, and a long story of wrongs that
had been done him by all sorts of persons, from the
Lord President of the Court of Session who had denied
him justice, down to the Baillies of Inverkeithing who

284 KIDNAPPED.

liiid given him more of it than he desired. It was im-
possible but he should conceive some suspicion of two
men lying all day concealed in a thicket and having no
business to allege. As long as he stayed there, he kept
us in hot water with prying questions ; and after he was
gone, as he was a man not very likely to hold his
tongue, we were in the greater impatience to be gone
ourselves.

The day came to an end with the same brightness ;
the night fell quiet and clear ; lights came out in houses
and hamlets and then, one after another, began to be
put out ; but it was past eleven, and we were long since
strangely tortured with anxieties, before we heard the
grinding of oars upon the rowing-pins. At that, we
looked out and saw the lass herself coming rowing to us
in a boat. She had trusted no one with our affairs, not
even her sweetheart, if she had one ; but as soon as her
father was asleep, had left the house by a window, stolen
a neighbour's boat, and come to our assistance single-
handed.

I was abashed how to find expression for my thanks ;
but she was no less abashed at the thought of hearing
them ; begged us to lose no time and to hold our peace,
saying (very properly) that the heart of our matter was
in haste and silence ; and so, what with one thing and
another, she had set us on the Lothian shore not far
from Carriden, had shaken hands with us, and was out
again at sea and rowing for Limekilns, before there

KIDNAPPED. 285

was one word said either of her service or our grati-
tude.

Even after she was gone we had nothing to say, as
indeed nothing was enough for such a kindness. Onl}^
Ahm stood a great while upon the shore shaking his
head.

"It is a very fine lass," lie said at last. " David, it
is a very fine lass." And a matter of an hour later, as
we were lying in a den oil the seashore and I had been
already dozing, he broke out again in commendations of
her character. For my i)art, I could say nothing, she
was so simple a creature that my heart smote me both
with remorse and fear ; remorse, because we had traded
upon her ignorance ; and fear, lest we should have any-
way involved her in the dangers of our situation.

CHAPTER XXVII.

I COME TO MR. RANKEILLOR.

The next day it was agreed that Alan should fend for
himself till sunset ; but as soon as it began to grow dark,
he should lie in the fields by the roadside near to New-
halls, and stir for naught until he heard me whistling.
At first, I proposed I should give him for a signal the
"Bonnie House of Airlie," which was a favourite of mine;
hut he objected that as the piece was very commonly
known, any ploughman might whistle it by accident ;
and taught me instead a little fragment of a Highland
air, which has run in my head from that day to this,
and will likely run in my head when I lie dying. Every
time it comes to me it takes me off to that last day of
my uncertainty, with Alan sitting up in the bottom of
the den, whistling and beating the measure with a finger,
and the gray of the dawn coming on his face.

I was in the long street of Queensferry before the sun
was up. It was a fairly built burgh, the houses of good
stone, many slated ; the town-hall not so fine, I thought,
as that of Peebles, nor yet the street so noble ; but take
it altogether, it put me to shame for my foul tatters.

As the morning went on, and the fires began to be

KIDNAPPED. 287

kindled, and the windows to open, and the people to
appear out of the houses, my concern and despondency
grew ever the blacker. I saw now that I had no
grounds to stand upon ; and no clear proof of my rights,
nor so much as of my own identity. If it was all a
babble, I was indeed sorely cheated and left in a sore
pass. Even if things were as I conceived, it would in
all likelihood take time to establish my contentions ;
and what time had I to spare with three shillings in my
l)ocket, and a condemned, hunted man upon my hands
to ship out of the country ? Truly, if my hope broke
with me, it might come to the gallows yet for both of
us. And as I continued to walk up and down, and saw
people looking askance at me upon the street or out of
windows, and nudging or speaking one to another With
smiles, I began to take fresh apprehension ; that it
might be no easy matter even to come to speech of the
lawyer, far less to convince him of my story.

For the life of me I could not muster up the courage
to address any of these reputable burghers ; I thought
shame even to speak with them in such a pickle of rags
and dirt ; and if I had asked for the house of such a
man as Mr. Rankeillor, I supposed they would have
burst out laughing in my face. So I went up and
down, and through the street, and down to the har-
bour-side, like a dog that has lost its master, with a
strange gnawing in my inwards, and every now and
then a movement of desoair. It grew to be high day at

288 KIDNAPPED.

last, perhaps nine in the forenoon ; and I was worn with
these wanderings, and chanced to have stopped in front
of a very good house on the landward side, a house with
beautiful, clear glass windows, flowering knots upon
the sills, the walls new-harled,* and a chase-dog sitting
yawning on the step like one that was at home. Well,
I was even envying this diimb brute, when the door
fell open and there issued forth a little shrewd, ruddy,
kindly consequential man in a well-powdered wig and
spectacles. I was in such a plight that no one set eyes
on me once, but he looked at me again ; and this gentle-
man, as it proved, was so much struck with my poor
appearance that he came straight up to me and asked
me what I did.

I told him I was come to the Queensferry on business,
and taking heart of grace, asked him to direct me to the
house of Mr. Rankeillor.

^' Why," said he, " that is his house that I have just
come out of ; and for a rather singular chance, I am
that Tery man."

'' Then, sir," said I, "I have to beg the favour of an
interview."

" I do not know your name," said he, " nor yet your
face. "

" My name is David Balfour," said I.

''David Balfour ?" he repeated, in rather a high tone,
like one surprised. " And where have you come from,
* Newly rough cast.

KIDNAPPED. 289

Mr. David Balfour ? " he asked, looking me pretty drily
in the face.

"I have come from a great many strange places, sir,"
said I; "but I think it would be as well to tell you
where and how in a more private manner."

He seemed to muse awhile, holding his lip in his
hand, and looking now at me and now upon the cause-
way of the street.

"Yes," says he, "that will be the best, no doubt."
And he led me back with him into his house, cried out
to some one whom I could not see that he would be
engaged all morning, and brought me into a little dusty
chamber full of books and documents. Here he sate
down, and bade me be seated ; though I thought he
looked a little ruefully from his clean chair to my
muddy rags. "And now," says he, "if you have any
business, pray be brief and come swiftly to the point.
JVec germino bellum Trojanum orditur ab ovo — do you
understand that ?" saj^s he, with a keen look.

" I will even do as Horace says, sir," I answered,
smiling, "and carry you in medias res." He nodded
as if he was well pleased, and indeed his scrap of Latin
had been set to test me. For all that, and though I
was somewhat encouraged, the blood came in my face
when I added : " I have reason to believe myself some
rights on the estate of Shaws."

He got a paper book out of a drawer and set it before
him open. " Well ? " said he.
19

290 KIDNAPPED.

But I had shot my bolt and sat speechless.

"Come, come, Mr. Balfour," said he, "you must
continue. Where were you born ?"

" In Essendean, sir," said I, "in the year 1734, the
12th of March."

He seemed to follow this statement in his paper book ;
but what that meant I knew not. " Your father and
mother ? " said he.

'' My father was Alexander Balfour, schoolmaster of
that place," said I, "and my mother Grace Pitarrow ; I
think her people were from Angus."

" Have you any papers proving your identity ? "
asked Mr. Rankeillor.

" No, sir," said I, "but they are in the hands of Mr.
Campbell, the minister, and could be readily produced.
Mr. Campbell, too, would give me his word ; and for
that matter, I do not think my uncle would deny
me."

" Meaning Mr. Ebenezer Balfour ? " says he.

" The same," said I.

" Whom you have seen ? " he asked.

" By whom I was received into his own house," I
answered.

" Did you ever meet a man of the name of Hoseason ? "
asked Mr. Rankeillor.

"I did so, sir, for my sins," said I ; "for it was by
his means and the procurement of my uncle, that I
was kidnapped within sight of this town, carried to

KIDNAPPED. 291

sea, suffered shipwreck and a hundred other hardships,
and stand before you to-day in this poor accoutre-
ment."

"You say you were shipwrecked," said Rankeillor ;
" where was that ? "

"Off the south end of the Isle of Mull," said I.
"The name of the isle on which I was cast up is the
Island Earraid."

"Ah !" said he smiling, "you are deeper than rae
in the geography. But so far, I may tell you, this
agrees pretty exactly with other informations that
I hold. But you say you were kidnapped ; in what
sense ? "

"In the plain meaning of the word, sir," said I.
"I was on my way to your house, when I was trepanned
on board the brig, cruelly struck down, thrown below,
and knew no more of anything till we were far at sea.
I was destined for the plantations ; a fate that, in God's
providence, I have escaped."

" The brig was lost on June the 27th," says he, look-
ing in his book, "and we are now at August the 24th.
Here is a considerable hiatus, Mr. Balfour, of near
upon two months. It has already caused a vast amount
of trouble to your friends ; and I own I shall not be
very well contented until it is set right."

"Indeed, sir," said I, "these months are very easily
filled up ; but yet before I told my story, I would be
glad to know that I was talking to a friend."

292 KIDNAPPED.

" This is to argue in a circle," said the lawyer. "I
cannot be convinced till I have heard you. I cannot be
your friend until I am properly informed. If you were
more trustful, it would better befit your time of life.
And you know, Mr. Balfour, we have a proverb in the
country that evildoers are aye evil-dreaders."

"You are not to forget, sir," said T, "that I have
already suffered by my trustfulness ; and was shipped
off to be a slave by the very man that (if I rightly under-
stand) is your employer."

All this while I had been gaining ground with Mr.
Rankeillor, and in proportion as I gained ground,
gaining confidence. But at this sally, which I made
with something of a smile myself, he fairly laughed
aloud.

"No, no," said he, "it is not so bad as that. Fiii,
non sum. I was indeed your uncle's man of business ;
but while you {imherbis juvenis custode remoto) were
gallivanting in the west, a good deal of water has run
under the bridges ; and if your ears did not sing, it was
not for lack of being talked about. On the very day of
your sea disaster, Mr. Campbell stalked into my office,
demanding you from all the winds. I had never heard
of your existence ; but I had known your father ; and
from matters in my competence (to be touched upon
hereafter) I was disposed to fear the worst. Mr. Eben-
ezer admitted having seen you ; declared (what seemed
improbable) that he had given you considerable sums ;

KIDNAPPED. 293

and that you had started for the continent of Europe,
intending to fulfil your education, which was probable
and praiseworthy. Interrogated how you had come to
send no word to Mr. Campbell, he deponed that you had
expressed a great desire to break with your past life.
Farther interrogated where you now were, protested
ignorance, but believed you were in Leyden. That is a
close sum of his replies. I am not exactly sure that any
one believed him," continued Mr. Eankeillor with a
smile ; " and in particular he so much disrelished some
expressions of mine that (in a word) he showed me to
the door. We were then at a full stand ; for whatever
shrewd suspicions we might entertain, we had no shadow
of probation. In the very article, comes Captain Ho-
season with the story of your drowning ; whereupon all
fell through ; with no consequences but concern to Mr.
Campbell, injury to my pocket, and another blot upon
your uncle's character, which could very ill afford it.
And now, Mr. Balfour," said he, ''you understand the
whole process of these matters, and can judge for your-
self to what extent I may be trusted."

Indeed he was more pedantic than I can represent
him, and placed more scraps of Latin in his speech ; but
it was all uttered with a fine geniality of eye and manner
which went far to conquer my distrust. Moreover, I
could see he now treated me as if I was myself bej'ond
a doubt ; so that first point of my identity seemed fully
granted.

294 KIDNAPPED.

"Sir," said I, "if 1 tell you my story, I must com-
mit a friend's life to your discretion. Pass me your
word it shall be sacred ; and for what touches myself, I
will ask no better guarantee than Just your face."

He passed me his word very seriously. "But," said
he, "these are rather alarming prolocutions ; and if
there are in your story any little Jostles to the law, I
would beg you to bear in mind that I am a lawyer, and
pass lightly."

Thereupon I told him my story from the first, he lis-
tening with his spectacles thrust up and his eyes closed,
so that I sometimes feared he was asleep. But no such
matter ! he heard every word (as I found afterward)
with such quickness of hearing and precision of memory
as often surprised me. Even strange, outlandish Gaelic
names, heard for that time only, he remembered and
would remind me of years after. Yet when I called
Alan Breck in full, we had an odd scene. The name of
Alan had of course rung through Scotland, with the
news of the Appin murder and the offer of the reward ;
and it had no sooner escaped me than the lawyer moved
in his seat and opened his eyes.

" I would name no unnecessary names, Mr. Balfour,"
said he ; "above all of Highlanders, many of whom are
obnoxious to the law."

"Well, it might have been better not," said I ; "but
since I have let it slip, I may as well continue."

"Not at all," said Mr. Rankeillor. " I am somewhat

KIDNAPPED. 295

dull of hearing, as you may have remarked ; and I am
far from sure I caught the name exactly. We will call
your friend, if you please, Mr. Thomson — that there
may be no reflections. And in future, I would take
some such way with any Highlander that you may have
to mention — dead or alive."

By this, I saw he must have heard the name all too
clearly and had already guessed I might be coming to
the murder. If he chose to play this part of ignorance,
it was no matter of mine ; so I smiled, said it was no
very Highland sounding name, and consented. Through
all the rest of my story Alan was Mr. Thomson ; which
amused me the more, as it was a piece of policy after
his own heart. James Stewart, in like manner, was
mentioned under the style of Mr. Thomson's kinsman ;
Colin Campbell passed as a Mr. Glen ; and to Cluny,
when I came to that part of my tale, I gave the name of
*'Mr. Jameson, a Highland chief." It was truly the
most open farce, and I wondered that the lawyer should
care to keep it up ; but after all it was quite in the taste
of that age, when there were two parties in the state,
and quiet persons, with no very high opinions of their
own, sought out every cranny to avoid offence to
either.

" Well, well," said the lawyer, when I had quite
done, " this is a great epic, a great Odyssey of yours.
You must tell it, sir, in a sound Latinity when your
scholarship is riper ; or in English, if you please, though

296 KIDNAPPED.

for my part I prefer the stronger tongue. Yon have
rolled much ; qum regio in terris — what parish in Scot-
land (to make a homely translation) has not been filled
with your wanderings ? You have shown besides a
singular aptitude for getting into false positions ; and,
yes, upon the whole, for behaving well in them. This
Mr. Thomson seems to me a gentleman of some choice
qualities, though perhaps a trifle bloody-minded. It
would please me none the worse, if (with all his merits)
he Avere soused in the North Sea; for the man, Mr.
David, is a sore embarrassment. But you are doubtless
quite right to adhere to him ; indubitably, he adhered to
you. It comes — we may say — he was your true com-
panion ; nor less, paribus curis vestigia jigit, for I dare-
say you would both take an orra thought upon the gal-
lows. Well, well, these days are fortunately by ; and I
think (speaking humanly) that you are near the end of
your troubles."

As he thus moralized on my adventures, he looked
upon me with so much humour and benignity that I
could scarce contain my satisfaction. I had been so
long wandering with lawless people, and making my
bed upon the hills and under the bare sky, that to sit
once more in a clean, covered house, and to talk ami-
cably with a gentleman in broadcloth, seemed mighty
elevations. Even as I thought so, my eye fell on my
unseemly tatters, and I was once more plunged in con-
fusion. But the lawyer saw and understood me. He

KIDNAPPED. 297

rose, called over the stair to lay another plate, for Mr.
Balfour would stay to dinner, and led me into a bed-
room in the upper part of the house. Here he set be-
fore me water and soap and a oomb ; and laid out some
clothes that belonged to his son : and here, with another
apposite tag, he left me to my toilet.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

I GO IN QUEST OF MY INHERITANCE.

Here I made what change I could in my appearance ;
and blithe was I to look in the glass and find the beggar-
man a thing of the past, and David Balfour come to
life again. And yet I was ashamed of the change, too,
and above all, of the borrowed clothes. When I had
done, Mr. Rankeillor caught me on the stair, made me
his compliments, and had me again into the cabinet.

"Sit ye down, Mr. David," said he, "and now that
you are looking a little more like yourself, let me see if I
can find you any news. You will be wondering, no
doubt, about your father and your uncle ? To be sure,
it is. a singular tale ; and the explanation is one that I
blush to have to offer you. For," says he, really with
embarrassment, "the matter hinges, on a love affair."

" Truly," said I, " I cannot very well join that notion
with my uncle."

"But your uncle, Mr. David, was not always old,"
replied the lawyer, " and what may perhaps surprise you
more, not always ugly. He had a fine, gallant air ;
people stood in tlieir doors to look after him, as he went
by upon a mettle horse. I have seen it with these eyes,

KIDNAPPED. 299

and I ingenuously confess, not altogether without envy ;
for I was a plain lad myself and a plain man's son ; and
in those days, it was a case of Odi te, qui hellus cs,
Sabelle. "

*'It sounds like a dream," said I.

" Ay, ay," said the lawyer, " that is how it is with
youth and age. Nor was that all, but he had a spirit of
his own that seemed to promise great things in the
future. In 1715, what must he do but run away to join
the rebels ? It was your father that pursued him,
found him in a ditch, and brought him back multum
gemeus ; to the mirth of the whole country. However,
majora canamus — the two lads fell in love, and that
with the same lady. Mr. Ebenezer, who was the ad-
mired and the beloved, and the spoiled one, made, no
doubt, mighty certain of the victory ; and Avhen he
found he had deceived himself, screamed like a pea-
cock. The whole country heard of it ; now he lay sick
at home, with his silly family standing round the bed in
tears ; now he rode from public-house to public-house
and shouted his sorrows into the lug of Tom, Dick, and
Harry. Your father, Mr. David, was a kind gentleman ;
but he was weak, dolefully weak ; took all this folly with
a long countenance ; and one day — by your leave ! — re-
signed the lady. She was no such fool, however ; it's
from her you must inherit your excellent good sense ;
and she refused to be bandied from one to another. Both
got upon their knees to her ; and the upshot of the

800 KIDNAPPED.

matter for that while, was that she showed both of them
the door. That was in August ; dear me ! the same year
I came from college. The scene must have been highly
farcical. "

I thought myself it was a silly business, but I could
not forget my father had a hand in it. " Surely, sir, it
had some note of tragedy," said I.

" Why, no, sir, not at all," returned the lawyer, "For
tragedy implies some ponderable matter in dispute, some
digmis vindice nodus ; and this piece of Avork was all
about tlie petulance of a young ass that had been
spoiled, and wanted nothing so much as to be tied up
and soundly belted. However, that was not your father's
view ; and. the end of it w^as, that from concession to
concession on your father's part, and from one height to
another of squalling, sentimental selfishness upon your
uncle's, they came at last to drive a sort of bargain, from
whose ill-results you have recently been smarting. The
one man took the lady, the other the estate. Now, Mr.
David, they talk a great deal of charity and generosity ;
but in this disputable state of life, I often think the hap-
piest consequences seem to flow when a gentleman con-
sults his lawyer and takes all the law allows him. Any-
how, this piece of Quixotry upon your father's part, as
it was unjust in itself, has brought forth a monstrous
family of injustices. Your father and mother lived and
died poor folk ; you were poorly reared ; and in the
meanwhile, what a time it has been for the poor tenants

KIDNAPPED. 301

on the estate of Sliaws ! And I might add (if it was
a matter I cared much about) what a time for Mr.
Ebenezer ! "

"And yet that is certainly the strangest part of all,"
said I, "' that a man's nature should thus change."

"True," said Mr. Kaukeillor. "And yet I imagine
it was natural enough. He coitld not think that he had
played a handsome part. Those who knew the story
gave him the cold shoulder ; those who knew it not, see-
ing one brother disappear, and the other succeed in the
estate, raised a cry of murder ; so that upon all sides, he
found himself evited. Money was all he got by his bar-
gain ; well, he came to think the more of money. He
was selfish when he was young, he is selfish now that he
is old ; and the latter end of all these pretty manners
and fine feelings you have seen for yourself."

"Well, sir," said I, "and in all- this, what is my posi-
tion ? "

" The estate is yours beyond a doubt," replied the
lawyer. "' It matters notliing what your father signed,
you are the heir of entail. But your uncle is a man to
fight the indefensible ; and it would be likely your iden-
tity that he would call in question. A lawsuit is always
expensive, and a family lawsuit always scandalous ;
besides which, if any of your doings with your friend
Mr. Johnson were to come out, we might find that we
had burned our fingers. The kidnapping, to be sure,
would be a court card upon our side, if we could only

302 KIUXAPPED.

prove it. But it may be diflBcult to prove ; and my ad-
vice (upon the whole) is to make a very easy bargain
with your uncle, perhaps even leaving him at Shaws
where he has taken root for a quarter of a century, and
contenting yourself in the meanwhile with a fair pro-
vision.

I told him I was very willing to be easy, and that
to carry family concerns before the public was a step
from which I was naturally much averse. In the mean-
time (thinking to myself) I began to see the outlines of
that scheme on which we afterwards acted.

''The great affair," I asked, "is to bring home to
him the kidnapping ? "

" Surely," said Mr. Rankeillor, " and if possible, out
of court. For mark you here, Mr. David, we could
no doubt find some men of the Covenant who would
swear to your reclusion ; but once they were in the box,
we could no longer check their testimony, and some word
of your friend Mr. Thomson must certainly crop out.
Which (from what you have let fall) I cannot think to
be desirable."

"Well, sir," said I, "here is my way of it." And
I opened, my plot to him.

" But this would seem to involve my meeting the
man Thomson ? " says he, when I had done.
" I think so, indeed, sir," said I.

" Dear doctor ! " cries he, rubbing his brow. " Dear
doctor ! No, Mr. David, I am afraid your scheme is

KIDNAPPED. 303

inadmissible. I say nothing against your friend Mr.
Thomson ; I know nothing against him, and if I did —
mark this, Mr. David ! — it would be my duty to lay
hands on him. Now I put it to you : is it wise to meet ?
He may have matters to his charge. He may not have
told you all. His name may not be even Thomson ! "
cries the lawyer, twinkling ; " for some of these fellows
will pick up names by the roadside as another would
gather haws."

" You must be the judge, sir,'' said I.

But it was clear my plan had taken hold upon his
fancy, for he kept musing to himself till we were called
to dinner and the company of Mrs. Rankeillor ; and that
lady had scarce left us again to ourselves and a bottle of
wine, ere he was back harping on my proposal. When
and where was I to meet my friend Mr. Thomson ; was
I sure of Mr. T.'s discretion ; supposing we could catch
the old fox tripping, would I consent to such and such
a term of an agreement — these and the like questions
he kept asking at long intervals, while he thoughtfully
rolled his wine upon his tongue. When I had answered
all of them, seemingly to his contentment, he fell into a
still deeper muse, even the claret being now forgotten.
Then he got a sheet of paper and a pencil, and sot to
work writing and weighing every word ; and at last
touched a bell and had his clerk into the chamber.

" Torrance," said he, " I must have this written out
fair against to-night ; and when it is done, you will

304 KIIiNAPPED.

be so kind as put on your hat and be ready to come
along with this gentleman and me, for you will probably
be wanted as a witness."

" What, sir," cried I, as soon as the clerk- was gone,
" are you to venture it ? "

"Why, so it would appear," says he, filling his glass.
" But let us speak no more of business. The very sight
of Torrance brings in my head a little, droll matter of
some years ago, when I had made a tryst with the poor
oaf at the cross of Edinburgh. Each had gone his
proper errand ; and when it came four o'clock, Torrance
had been taking a glass and did not know his master, and
I, who had forgot my spectacles, was so blind without
them, that I give you my word I did not know my own
clerk." And thereupon he laughed heartily.

I said it was an odd chance, and smiled out of polite-
ness ; but Avhat held me all the afternoon in wonder, he
kept returning and dwelling on this story, and telling it
again with fresh details and laughter ; so that I began
at last to be quite out of countenance and feel ashamed
for my friend's folly.

Towards the time I had appointed with Alan, we set
out from the house, Mr. Rankeillor and I arm in arm,
and Torrance following behind with the deed in his
pocket and a covered basket in his hand. All through
the town, the lawyer was bowing right and left, and con-
tinually being buttoned-holed by gentlemen on matters
of burgh or private business ; and I could see he was one

KIDNAPPED. 305

greatly looked up to in the country. At last we were
clear of the houses, and began to go along the side of
the haven and towards the Hawes Inn and the ferry
pier, the scene of my misfortune. I could not look upon
the place without emotion, recalling how many that had
been there with me that day were now no more : Ran-
some taken, I could hope, from the evil to come ; Shuan
passed where I dare not follow him ; and the poor souls
that had gone down with the brig in her last plunge.
All these, and the brig herself, I had outlived ; and
come through these hardships and fearful perils without
a scathe. My only thought should have been of grati-
tude ; and yet I could not behold the place without sor-
row for others and a chill of recollected fear.

I was so thinking when, upon a sudden, Mr. Ran-
keillor cried out, clapped his hand to his pockets, and
began to laugh.

"Why," he cries, *'if this be not a farcical adven-
ture ! After all that I said, I have forgot my glasses ! "

At that, of course, I understood the purpose of his
anecdote, and knew that if he had left his spectacles at
home it had been done on pui-pose, so that he might
have the benefit of Alan's help without the awkwardness
of recognizing him. And indeed it was well thought
upon ; for now (suppose things to go the very worst)
how could Rankeillor swear to my friend's identity, or
how be made to bear damaging evidence against myself ?
For all that, he had been a long while of finding out
20

306 KIDNAPPED.

his want, and had spoken to and recognized a good few
persons as we came through the town ; and I had little
doubt myself that he saw reasonably well.

As soon as we were past the Hawes (where I recog-
nised the landlord smoking his pipe in the door, and
was amazed to see him look no older) Mr. Rankeillor
changed the order of march, walking behind with
Torrance and sending me forward in the manner of a
scout. I went up the hill, whistling from time to time
my Gaelic air ; and at length I had the pleasure to hear
it answered and to see Alan rise from behind a bush.
He was somewhat dashed in spirits, having passed a
long day alone skulking in the county, and made but
a poor meal in an alehouse near Dundas. But at the
mere sight of my clothes, he began to brighten up ; and
as soon as I had told him in what a forward state our
matters were, and the part I looked to him to play in
what remained, he sprang into a new man.

"And that is a very good notion of yours," says he;
'' and I dare to say that you could lay your hands upon
no better man to put it through, than Alan Breck. It
is not a thing (mark ye) that any one could do, but takes
a gentleman of penetration. But it sticks in my head
your lawyer-man will be somewhat wearying to see me,"
says Alan.

Accordingly, I cried and waved on Mr. Rankeillor,
who came up alone and was presented to my friend, Mr.
Thomson.

KIDNAPPED. 307

''Mr. Thomson, lam pleased to meet you," said he.
" But I have forgotten my glasses ; and our friend,
Mr. David here " (clapping me on the shoulder) " will
tell you that I am little better than blind, and that you
must not be surprised if I pass you by to-morrow."

This he said, thinking that Alan would be pleased ;
but the Highlandman's vanity was ready to startle at a
less matter than that.

"Why, sir," says he, stiffly, "I would say it mat-
tered the less as we are met liere for a particular end, to
see justice done to Mr. Balfour ; and by what I can see,
not very likely to have much else in common. But I
accept your apology, which was a very proper one to
make."

"And that is more than I could look for, Mr. Thom-
son," said Rankeillor, heartily. " And now as you and
I are the chief actors in this enterprise, 1 think we
should come into a nice agreement ; to which end, I
propose that you should lend me your arm, for (what
with the dusk and the want of my glasses) I am not
very clear as to the path ; and as for you, Mr. David,
you will find Torrance a pleasant kind of body to speak
with. Only let me remind you, it's quite needless he
should hear more of your adventures or those of-^ahem
—Mr. Thomson."

Accordingly, these two went on ahead in very close
talk, and Torrance and I brought up the rear.

Night was quite come when we came in view of the

808 KIDNAPPED.

house of Shaws. Ten had been gone some time ; it was
dark and mild, with a pleasant, rustling wind in the
south-west that covered the sound of our approach ; and
as we drew near we saw no glimmer of light in any
portion of the building. It seemed my uncle was already
in bed, which was indeed the best thing for our arrange-
ments. We made our last whispered consultations some
fifty yards away ; and then the lawyer and Torrance and
I crept quietly up and crouched down beside the corner
of the house ; and as soon as we were in our places,
Alan strode to the door without concealment aud began
to knock.

CHAPTER XXIX.

I COME INTO MY KINGDOM.

Foe some time Alan volleyed upon the door, and his
knocking only roused the echoes of the house and neigh-
bourhood. At last, however, I could hear the noise of
a window gently thrust up, and knew that my uncle
had come to his observatory. By what light there was,
he would see Alan standing, like a dark shadow, on the
steps ; the three witnesses were hidden quite out of his
view ; so that, in what he saw, there was nothing to
alarm an honest man in his own house. For all that,
he studied his visitor awhile in silence, and when he
spoke his voice had a quaver of misgiving.

" What's this," says he. "This is nae kind of time
of night for decent folk ; and I hae nae trokings * wi'
night-hawks. What brings ye here ? I have a blun-
derbush."

" Is that yoursel', Mr. Balfour ? " returned Alan,
stepping back and looking up into the darkness. " Have
a care of that blunderbuss ; they're nasty things to
burst."

* Dealings.

310 KIDNAPPED.

*' What brings ye here ? and whae are ye ?" says my
uncle, angrily.

" I have no manner of inclination to rowt out my
name to the countryside," said Alan ; " but what brings
me here is another story, being more of your affairs than
mine ; and if ye're sure it's what ye would like, I'll set
it to a tune and sing it to you."

" And what is't ?" asked my uncle.

*' David," says Alan.

"What was that?" cried my uncle, in a mighty
changed voice.

"Shall I give ye the rest of the name then ?" said
Alan.

There was a pause ; and then, " I'm thinking I'll
better let ye in," says my uncle, doubtfully.

"I daresay that," said Alan; "but the point is,
Would I go ? Now I will tell you what I am thinking.
I am thinking that it is here upon this doorstep that we
must confer upon this business ; and it shall be here or
nowhere at all whatever ; for I would have you to under-
stand that I am as stiff-necked as yoursel', and a gentle-
man of better family."

This change of note disconcerted Ebenezer ; he was
a little while digesting it ; and then says he, " Weel,
weel, what must be must," and shut the window. But
it took him a long time to get down-stairs, and a still
longer to undo the fastenings, repenting (I daresay) and
taken with fresh claps of fear at every second step and

KIDNAPPED. 311

every bolt and bar. At last, however, we heard the
creak of the hinges, and it seems my uncle slipped gin-
gerly out and (seeing that Alan had stepped back a pace
or two) sate him down on the top doorstep with the
blunderbuss ready in his hands.

** And now," says he, "mind I have my blunderbush,
and if ye take a step nearer ye're as good as deid."

"And a very civil speech," says Alan, " to be sure."

"Na," says my uncle, "but this is no a very chancy
kind of a proceeding, and I'm bound to be prepared.
And now that we understand each other, ye'll can name
your business."

"Why," says Alan, "you that are a man of so much
understanding, will doubtless have perceived that I am
a Hieland gentleman. My name has nae business in
my story ; but the county of my friends is no very far
from the Isle of Mull, of which ye will have heard. It
seems there was a ship lost in those parts ; and the
next day a gentleman of my family was seeking wreck-
wood for his fire along the sands, when he came upon a
lad that was half drowned. Well, he brought him to ;
and he and some other gentlemen took and clapi^cd him
in an auld, ruined castle, where from that day to this
he has been a great expense to my friends. My friends
are a wee wild-like, and not so particular about the law
as some that I could name ; and finding that the lad
owned some decent folk, and was your born nephew,
Mr. Balfour, they asked me to give ye a bit call and to

812 KIDNAPPED.

confer upon the matter. And I may tell ye at the off-
go, unless we can agree upon some terms, ye are little
likely to aet eyes upon him. For my friends," added
Alan, simply, " are no very well off. "

My uncle cleared his throat. "I'm no very caring,"
says he. "He wasnae a good lad at the best of it, and
I've nae call to interfere."

"Ay, ay," said Alan, "I see what ye would be at:
pretending ye don't care, to make the ransome smaller."

"Na," said my uncle, "it's the mere truth. I take
nae manner of interest in the lad, and I'll pay nae ran-
some, and ye can make a kirk and a mill of him for
what I care."

"Hoot, sir," says Alan. "Blood's thicker than
water, in the deil's name ! Ye caunae desert your
brother's son for the fair shame of it ; and if ye did,
and it came to be kennt, ye wouldnae be very popular
in your countryside, or I'm the more deceived."

"I'm no just very popular the way it is," returned
Ebenezer ; "and I dinnae see how it would come to be
kennt. No by me, onyway ; nor yet by you or your
friends. So that's idle talk, my buckie," says he.

"Then it'll have to be David that tells it," said
Alan.

" How that ?" says my uncle, sharply.

" Ou, just this way," says Alan. "My friends would
doubtless keep your nephew as long as there was any
likelihood of siller to be made of it, but if there was

KIDNAPPED. 313

naue, I am clearly of opinion they would let him gang
where lie pleased, and be damned to him ! "

"Ay, but I'm no very caring about that either," said
ray uncle. "I wouldnae be muckle made up with
that."

"1 was thinking that," said Alan.

"And what for why ?" asked Ebenezer.

"Why, Mr. Balfour," replied Alan, " by all that I
could hear, there were two ways of it : either ye liked
David and would 2:)ay to get him back ; or else ye had
very good reasons for not wanting him, and would pay
for us to keep him. It seems it's not the first ; well
then, it's the second ; and blythe am I to ken it, for it
should be a pretty penny in my pocket and the pockets
of my friends."

"I dinnae follow ye there," said my uncle.

"No?" said Alan. "Well, see here: you dinnae
want the lad back ; well, what do ye want done with
him, and how much will ye pay ?"

My uncle made no answer, but shifted uneasily on his
seat.

" Come, sir," cried Alan. "I would have ye to ken
that I am a gentleman ; I bear a king's name ; I am
nae rider to kick my shanks at your hall door. Either
give me an answer in civility, and that out of hand ; or
by the top of Glencoe, I will ram three feet of iron
through your vitals."

"Eh, man," cried my uncle, scrambling to his feet.

314 KIDNAPPED.

" give me a meenit ! What's like wrong with ye ? I'm
just a plain man, and nae dancing-master ; and I'm
trying to be as ceevil as it's morally possible. As for
that wild talk, it's fair disrepitable. Vitals, says you !
and wliei-e would I be with my blunderbush? " he snarled.

" Powder and your auld hands are but as the snail to
the swallow against the bright steel in the hands of
Alan," said the other. " Before your jottering finger
could find the trigger, the hilt would dirl on your breast-
bane."

" Eh, man, whae's denying it ? " said my uncle.
'' Pit it as ye please, hae't your ain way ; I'll do nae-
thing to cross ye. Just tell me what like ye'll be want-
ing, and ye'll see that we'll can agree fine,"

"Troth, sir," said Alan, ''I ask for nothing but
plain dealing. In two words : do ye want the lad killed
or kept ? "

"0, sirs !" cried Ebenezer. " 0, sirs, me ! that's no
kind of language ! "

" Killed or kept ? " repeated Alan.

"0 keepit, keepit !" wailed my uncle. " We'll have
nae bloodshed, if you please."

''Well," says Alan, "as ye please; that'll be the
dearer."

" The dearer ?" cries Ebenezer. " Would ye fyle your
hands wi' crime ? "

" Hoot ! " said Alan, " they're baith crime, whatever !
And the killing's easier, and quicker, and surer. Keep-

KIDNAPPED. 315

ing the lad'll be a fashions* Job, a fashions, kittle busi-
ness."

"I'll have him keepit, though," returned my uncle.
*'I never had naething to do with anything morally
wrong ; and I'm no gaun to begin to pleasure a wild
Hielaudman."

"Ye're unco scrupulous," sneered Alan.

'Tm a man o' principle," said Ebenezer simply;
"and if I have to pay for it, I'll have to pay for it.
And besides," says he, "ye forget the lad's my brother's
son."

"Well, well," said Alan, "and now about the price.
It's no very easy for me to set a name upon it ; I would
first have to ken some small matters. I would have to
ken, for instance, what ye gave Hoseason at the first oS-
go?"

" Hoseason ? " cries my uncle, struck aback. " What
for ? "

"For kidnapping David," says Alan.

" It's a lee, it's a black lee ! " cried my uncle. " He
was never kidnapped. He leed in his throat that tauld
ye that. Kidnapped ? He never was ! "

" That's no fault of mine nor yet of yours," said
Alan; "nor yet of Hoseason's, if he's a man that can
be trusted."

" What do ye mean ? " cried Ebenezer ; " did Hoseason
tell ye ? "

* Troublesome.

316 KIDNAPPED.

"Why, ye doiinered auld runt, how else would I
ken ?" cried Alan. '• Hoseasou and I are partners; we
gang shares ; so ye can see for yoursel', what good ye
can do leeing. And I must plainly say ye drove a fool's
bargain when ye let a man like the sailor-man so far
forward in your private matters. But that's past pray-
ing for ; and ye must lie on your bed the way ye made it.
And the point in hand is just this : what did ye pay him? "

" Has he tauld ye himsel' ? " asked my uncle.

"That's my concern," said Alan.

" Weel," said my uncle, "I dinuae care what he said,
he leed, and the solemn God's truth is this, that I gave
him twenty pound. But I'll be perfec'ly honest with
ye : forby that, he was to have the selling of the lad in
Caroliny, whilk would be as muckle mair, but no from
my pocket, ye see."

'' Thank you, Mr. Thomson. That will do excellently
well," said the lawyer, stepping forward ; and then
mighty civilly, "Grood evening, Mr. Balfour," said he.

And, "Good evening, Uncle Ebenezer," said I.

And "It's a braw nicht, Mr. Balfour," added Tor-
rance.

Never a word said my uncle, neither black nor white ;
but just sat where he was on the top doorstep and stared
upon us like a man turned to stone. Alan filched away
his blunderbuss; and the lawyer, taking him by the
arm, plucked him up from the doorstep, led him into
tiie kitchen, whither we all followed, and set him down

KIDNAPPED. 317

in a chair beside the hearth, where the fire was out and
only a rushlight burning.

There we all looked upon him for awhile, exulting
greatly in our success, but yet with a sort of pity for
the man's shame.

''Come, come, Mr. Ebenezer,'' said the lawyer, "you
must not be down-hearted, for I promise you we shall
make easy terms. In the meanwhile give us the cellar
key, and Torrance shall draw us a bottle of your father's
wine in honour of the event." Then, turning to me
and taking me by the hand, "Mr. David," says he, "I
wish you all joy in your good fortune, which I believe
to be deserved." And then to Alan, with a spice of
drollery, "Mr. Thomson, I pay you my compliment; it
was most ai-tfully conducted ; but in one point you
somewhat outran my comprehension. Do I understand
your name to be James ? or Charles ? or is it George,
perhaps ? "

*'And why should it be any of the three, sir?"
quoth Alan, drawing himself up, like one who smelt an
offence.

"Only, sir, that you mentioned a king's name,'' re-
plied Kankeillor ; "and as there has never yet been a
King Thomas, or his fame at least has never come my
way, I judged you must refer to that you had in bap-
tism."

This was just the stab that Alan would feel keenest,
and I am free to confess he took it very ill. Not a word

318 KIDNAPPED,

would he answer, but stepfc off to the far end of the
kitchen, and sat down and sulked ; and it was not till I
stejiped after him, and gave him my hand, and thanked
him by title as the chief spring of my success, that he
began to smile a bit, and was at last prevailed upon to
join our party.

By that time we had the fire lighted, and a bottle of
wine uncorked ; a good supper came out of the basket,
to which Torrance and I and Alan set ourselves down ;
while the lawyer and my uncle passed into the next
chamber to consult. They stayed there closeted about
an hour ; at the end of which period they had come to
a good understanding, and my uncle and I set our hands
to the agreement in a formal manner. By the terms of
this, my uncle was confirmed for life in the possession
of the house and lands ; and bound himself to satisfy
Eankeillor as to his intromissions, and to pay me two
clear thirds of the yearly income.

So the beggar in tlie ballad had come home ; and when
I lay down that night on the kitchen chests, I was a
man of means and had a name in the country. Alan
and Torrance and Eankeillor slept and snored on their
hard beds ; but for me, who had lain out under heaven
and upon dirt and stones, so many clays and nights, and
often with an empty belly, and in fear of death, this
good change in my case unmanned me more than any of
the former evil ones ; and I lay till dawn, looking at the
fire on the roof and planning the future.

CHAPTER XXX.

GOOD-BYE,

So far as I was concerned myself, I had come to port;
but I had still Alan, to whom I was so much beholden,
on my hands ; and I felt besides a heavy charge in the
matter of the murder and James of the Glens. On both
these heads I unbosomed to Rankeillor the next morn-
ing, walking to and fro about six of the clock before the
house of Shaws, and with nothing in view but the fields
and woods that had been my ancestors' and were now
mine. Even as I spoke on these grave subjects, my eye
would take a glad bit of a run over the prospect, and
my heart Jump with pride.

About my clear duty to my friend, the lawyer had no
doubt ; I must help him out of the county at whatever
risk ; but in the case of James, he was of a different
mind.

"Mr. Thomson," says he, ''is one thing, Mr. Thom-
son's kinsman quite another. I know little of the facts ;
but I gather that a great noble (whom we will call, if
you like, the D. of A. ) * has some concern and is even
supposed to feel some animosity in the matter. The
D. of A. is doubtless an excellent nobleman ; but, Mr.
* The Duke of Argyll.

820 KIDNAPPED.

David, timeo qui nocere deos. If you interfere to baulk
his vengeance, you should remember there is one way to
shut your testimony out ; and that is to put you in
the dock. There, you would be in the same pickle
as Mr. Thomson's kinsman You will object that you
are innocent ; well, but so is he. And to be tried for
your life before a Highland Jury, on a Highland quar-
rel, and with a Highland judge upon the bench, would
be a brief transition to the gallows."

Now I had made all these reasonings before and
found no very good reply to them ; so I put on all the
simplicity I could. ''In that case, sir," said I, "I
would just have to be hanged — would I not ?"

"My dear boy," cries he, "go in God's name, and do
what you think is right. It is a poor thought that at
my time of life I should be advising you to choose the
safe and shameful ; and I take it back with an apology.
Go and do your duty ; and be hanged, if you must, like
a gentleman. There are wors3 things in the world than
to be hanged."

"Not many, sir," said I, smiling.

"Why, yes, sir," he cried, "very many. And it
would be ten times better for your uncle (to go no fur-
ther afield) if he were dangling decently upon a gibbet."

Thereupon he turned into the house (still in a great
fervour of mind, so that I saw I had pleased him heart-
ily) and there he wrote me two letters, making his com-
ments on them as he wrote.

KIDNAPPED. 321

"This," says lie, "is to my bankers, the British
Linen Company, placing a credit to your name. Con-
sult Mr. Thomson ; he Avill know of ways ; and yon,
with this credit, can supply the means. I trust you
will be a good husband of your money ; but in the
affair of a friend like Mr. Thomson, I would be even
prodigal. Then, for his kinsman, there is no better
way than that you should seek the Advocate, tell him
your tale, and offer testimony ; whether he may take it
or not, is quite another matter, and will turn on the D.
of A. Now that yon may reach the Lord Advocate
well recommended, I give you here a letter to a name-
sake of your own, the learned Mr. Balfour of Pilrig, a
man whom I esteem. It will look better that you should
be presented by one of your own name ; and the laird of
Pilrig is much looked up to in the Faculty and stands
well with Lord Advocate Grant. I would not trouble
him, if I were you, with any particulars ; and (do you
know ?) I think it would be needless to refer to Mr.
Thomson. Form yourself upon the laird, he is a good
model ; when you deal with the Advocate, be discreet ;
and in all these matters, may the Lord guide you, Mr.
David ! "

Thereupon he took his farewell, and set out with
Torrance for the Ferry, while Alan and I turned our
faces for the city of Edinburgh. As we went by the
footpath and beside the gateposts and the unfinished
lodge, we kept looking back at the house of my fathers.

322 KIDNAPPED.

It stood there, bare and great and smokeless, like a place
not lived in ; only in one of the top windows, there was
the peak of a nightcap bobbing up and down and back
and forward, like the head of a rabbit from a barrow.
I had little welcome when I came, and less kindness
while I stayed ; but at least I was watched as I went
away.

In the meanwhile Alan and I went slowly forward
upon our way, having little heart either to walk or
speak. The same thought was uppermost in both, that
we were near the time of our parting ; and remembrance
of all the bygone days sate upon us sorely. We talked
indeed of what should be done ; and it was resolved that
Alan should keep to the county, biding now here, now
there, but coming once in a day to a particular place
where I might be able to commu.nicate with him, either
in my own person or by messenger. In the meanwhile,
I was to seek out a lawyer, who was an Appin Stewart,
and a man therefore to be wholly trusted ; and it should
be his part to find a ship and to arrange for Alan's safe
embarcation. No sooner was this business done, than
the words seemed to leave us ; and though I would seek
to jest with Alan under the name of Mr. Thomson,
and he with me on my new clothes and my estate, you
could feel very well that we were nearer tears than
laughter.

AVe came the b\"-way over the hill of Corstorphine;
and when we got near to the i)lace called Rest-and-be-

KIDNAPPED. 323

Thankful, and looked down on Corstorphine bogs and
over to the city and the castle on the hill, we both
stopped, for we both knew, without a word said, that we
had come to where our ways parted. Here he repeated
to me once again what had been agreed upon between
us : the address of the lawyer, the daily hour at which
Alan might be found, and the signals that were to be
made by any that came seeking him. ' Then I gave what
money I had (a guinea or two of Rankeillor's), so that
he should not starve in the meanwhile ; and then we
stood a space, and looked over at Edinburgh in silence.

"Well, good-bye," said Alan, and held out his left
hand.

''Good-bye," said I, and gave the hand a little grasp,
and went off down hill.

Neither one of us looked the other in the face, nor so
long as he was in my view did I take one back glance at
the friend I was leaving. But as I went on my way to
the city, I felt so lost and lonesome, that I could have
found it in my heart to sit down by the dyke, and cry
and weep like a baby.

It was coming near noon, when I passed in by the
West Kirk and the Grassmarket into the streets of the
capital. The huge height of the buildings, running up
to ten and fifteen storeys, the narrow arclicd entries that
continually vomited passengers, the wares of the mer-
chants in their windows, the hublmb and endless stir,
the foul smells and the fine clothes, and a hundred other

324 KIDNAPPED.

particulars too small to mention, struck me into a kind
of stupor of surprise, so that I let the crowd carry me
to and fro ; and yet all the time what I was thinking
of was Alan at Rest-and-be-Thankful ; and all the time
(although you would think I would not choose but be
delighted with these braws and novelties) there was a
cold gnawing in my inside like a remorse for something
wrong.

The hand of Providence brought me in my drifting
to the very doors of the British Linen Company's bank.

[Just there, with his hand upon his fortune, the
present editor inclines for the time to say farewell to
David. How Alan escaped, and what was done about
the murder, with a variety of other delectable particulars,
may be some day set forth. That is a thing, however,
that hinges on the public fancy. The editor has a great
kininess for both Alan and David, and would gladly
spend much of his life in their society ; but in this he
may find himself to stand alone. In the fear of which,
and lest any one should complain of scurvy usage, he
hastens to protest that all went well with both, in the
limited and human sense of the word "well;" that
whatever befell them, it was not dishonour, and what-
ever failed them, they were not found wanting to them-
selves.]

POPULAR BOOKS

/;/ Paper Covers.
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, ----- Publishers.

OLD CREOLE DAYS.

By GEORGE W. CABLE.
Popular Edition, in Two Parts; each Complete. 30 cents.

PART n.

PART I.
Madame Delphine.

Cafb des ExiLfis.
Belles Demoiselles Plantation.

" PossoN Jone'."

Jean-ah Poquelin.
'Tite Poulette.
'Sieur George.

Madame DfinciEUSE.

" Here is true art at work. Here is poetry, pathos, trugedy, humor. Here is
an entrancing style. Here is a new field, one full of passion and beauty. Here
is a local color, with strong drawing. Here, in this litt'.e volume, is life, breath,
and blood. The author of this book is an r.rtist, and over such a revelation one
may be permitted strong words." — Cincinnati Titnes.

"I have read all thy stories and like them very much. Thee has found an
untrodden field of romance in New Orleans ; and I think thee the writer whom we
have so long waited to see come up in the South." — The Poet Whittier to
Mr, Caule.

MRS. BURNETT'S EARLIER STORIES.

Lindsays' Liick, 30 cents.

Pretty Polly Pemberton, 40 cents.
Kathleen, 40 cents.

Mkss Cresi'ignv, 30 cents.

" Each of these narratives have a distinct spirit, and can be profitably road by
all classes of people. They are tnld not only with true art but with deep pathos." —
Boston Post.

RUDDER GRANGE.

By FRANX R. STOCKTON.
I vol., I 2mo, paper, - - 60 cents.

" Humor like this is perennial." — Washing-ton Post.

"Mr. Stockton has rare gifts for this style of writmg, and has developed in
these papers remarkable genius." — Pittsburgh Gazette.

POPULAR BOOKS

//; Yellow Paper Covers.

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, ----- PuBLiSHERa

THE MARK OF CAIN.

By ANDREW LANG.
I vol., l2mo, paper, - - - 25 cents.

In this story Mr. Lang shows us again his remarkable literary de.vterity. It i;
a novel of modern life in London, absorbing, full of spirited and original incidents,
excitmg to the verge of sensationalism. It is one of those fortunate books which
hold the reader's mterest to the full from the first page to the last.

gth Thousand.

" Noihing Mr. Stevenson has written yet has so strongly impressed us with the
versatility of his very original genius." — London Times.

STRANGE CASE OF DR. JEKYLL AND
MR. HYDE.

By ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.
I vol., l2mo, paper, - - - 25 cents.

"It IS a work of incontestable genius. Nothing, in my judgment, by Edgar
Allan Poe, to be generous, is to be compared to it ; it has all his weird and eerie
power, but combined with a graphic lealism that immensely heightens the effect.
I read it in a four-wheeled cab the other night, by the help of a reading-lamp, as I
traveled through miles of snow-bound streets, quite unconscious of the external
circumstances of that melancholy journey. What is worth mentioning, because
otherwise a good many people will miss it, is that a noble moral iinderlies the mar-
velous tde."— James Pavn in Indepi-ndent .

THE DIAMOND LENS

WlJE OTHER STORIES.

By FITZ-JAMES O'BRIEN.

I vol., I 2mo, paper, ------ 50 cents.

STOK/SS:

Thk Diamond Lens. The Pot of Tulips.

The Wondersmith. The Golden Ingot.

ToMMAToo. Mv Wife's Tempier.

Mother op Pearl. What Was It

^HE Bohemian. - Duke Humphrey's Dinner.

The Lost Room. Milly Dovk.

The Dragon Fang.

"The stories are the only things in literature to be compared with Poe's work,
and if they do not equal it in workmanship, they certainly do not yield to it in
or\g\n3Mly. "—PhilaJelphia Record.

"Nothing more fascinating in their way, and showing better literary workman-
ship, has of late come to the front in the shape of short stories." — Toronto IVeek.

POPULAR BOOKS

/;/ Yellow Paper Covers.
Each I vol., l2mo, 50 cents.

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, Publishers.

GUERNDALE.

By J. S., OF Dale.

"After endless novels of culture, here is a novel of power; after a flood of
social analysis and portraiture, "here is a story of genuine passion and of very
considerable insight of the deeper sort." — Christian Union.

"The plot of the story, or rather of the romance, for no other name properly
describes it, is full of delicacy and beauty. . . The author has given us a story
such as we have not had in this country since the time of Hawthorne." — Boston
Advertiser.

'" Guemdale ' will at once take rank as one of the cleverest and be
A-orks of fiction of the year." — Chicago Tribune.

, George T arsons Lathrop's Novels.
NEWPORT.

" Mr. Lathrop has caught better than any other writer the best side of refined
Newport life, and set it off agains' the silliness and vulgarity of the Blazer set ;
and it is not hard to guess at the originals of many of his characters, Old Thorburn,
Raish Porter, Mrs. Blazer and some of the others. One gets to quite like Octavia
and Vivian and Josephine. And the young men are manly, without the oversensi-
tiveness and meanness which the heroes of this ultra refined school are apt to
display." — Boston Traveller.

AN ECHO OF PASSION.

"The strength of the work is in its masterly development of the central motif.
The ebb and flow of the passion, its apparent checks yet real accumulation of
power, are true to nature, and the whole story is remarkable for the skill with
which very natural and probable incidents are made to present a spiritual conflict."
— The Atlantic Monthly.

IN THE DISTANCE.

A NOVEL.
In the Distance' presents an unusual ingenuity of plot, and contains sketches

of character which betray an acute observation ana an adequate power of expres
The Century Magazine

sion

POPULAR BOOKS

/;/ Yellow Paper Covers.
Each I vol., l2mo, 50 centS'

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, Publishers,

THE LADY, OR THE TIGER?

-A.ND OTHER STOF4IES.

By frank R. STOCKTON.

CONTENTS:
The Lady, or the Tiger ? Our Story.

The Transferred Ghost. Mr. Tolman.

The Spectral Mortgage. On the Training of Parents.

Our Archery Clib. Our Fire-screen.

That Same Old 'Coon. A Piece of Red Calico.

His Wife's Deceased Sister. " Every Man His Own LETTER-wRiTEf

" Stockton has the knai:k, perhaps genius would be a better word, of writing ii
the easiest of colloquial English without descending to the plane of the vulgar OJ
common-place. The very perfection of his work hinders the reader from per-
ceiving at once how good of its kind it is. . . . With the added charm of a
most delicate humor — a real humor, mellow, tender, and informed by a singularly
quaint and racy fancy — his stories become irresistibly attractive." — Philadelphia
Times.

THAT LASS O' LOWRIE'S.

By FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT.

"The publication of a story like ' That Lass o' Lowrie"s' is a red-letter day In
the world of literature." — New York Herald.

" We know of no more powerful work from a woman's hand in the English
langiinge, not even excepting the best of George YX\ox.''?,."— Boston Transcript.

"The best original novel that has appeared in this country tor many years." —
Philadelphia Press.

SAXE HOLM S STORIES.

First Series.

Draxy Miller's Dowry. The One-legged Dancers.

The Elder's Wife. How One Woman Kept Her Husband.

Whose Wife was She? Esther Wvnn's Love-letters.

Second Series.

A Four-leaved Clover. My Tourmaline.

Farmer Bassett's Romance. Joe Hale's Red Stockings.

Susan Lawton's Escape.

"Whoever is the author, she is certainly entitled to the high credit of writing
stories which charm by their sweetness, impress by their power, and hold attention
by their originality." — Albany Argus.

"The second series of ' Saxe Holm's Stories well sustains the interest which
has made the name of the author a subject of discussion with literary gossips, and
won the admiration of intelligent readers for such attractive specimens of pure
and wholesome fiction."— A'Ira/ York Tribune,

Fresh and delightful." — New York Evening Post.

A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES

By ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

l2iuo, boards, gilt top, - - - . $1.00.

" He takes an inland voyage up the river of Memory, and sketches
with his clear, crisp, vivid touch, a few of his adventures and experi-
ences, . . . and draws with charming simplicity."— /"a// Mall
Gazette.

" The collection will bear to be spoken of with enthusiasm, and will
not only tend to keep alive the child feeling in the hearts of the elders,
by having embodied it in speaking verse, but will give the children songs
which will sing over in their hearts the purest and healthiest happiness
of their young lives." — The Independent.

"A more exqui.site and dainty art than Mr. Stevenson's has not
come to the service of children and their interpretation." — Springjfield
Rcpubliean.

"Fresh and attractive. We commend them heartily." — New York
Suit.

"These verses are simply exquisite. They are the child's thought
in the child's language, and yet altogether poetical. We do not know
anything in the whole range of English literature to equal them in their
own peculiar charm. There is a subtle beauty in them which is inde^
scribable and unequaled."— 7"//^' Churchman.

"A model of books for the young of all ages." — Philadelphia Record

*x-* For sale by all booksellers, or sent, post-paid, on receipt of price, by

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS,

743 and 74-5 Broadway, New York.

" Mr. Stockton has written a book which you can'' t discuss with-
out laughing; and that is proof e7iough of its quality y

— N. Y. Tribune.

The Late Mrs. Null

By FRANK R. STOCKTON.

One Volume. 12mo. Cloth. $1.50.

"The Late Mrs. Null" is one of those fortunate books that
goes beyond all expectation. Even those readers whose hopes
have been raised the highest have before them — especially in the
fact that they receive the story complete and at once, without
intermediate serial publication— such an enjoyment as they hard-
jy foresee.

It is enough to say of the scene that it is chiefly in Virginia,
to show the possibilities of local character-drawing open to Mr.
Stockton in addition to his other types ; and to say that every
character is full of the most ingenious and delicious originality
is altogether needless. In an increasing scale, the situations are
still more complicated, ingenious, and enjoyable than the charac-
ters ; and finally, the plot is absolutely baffling in its clever in-
tricacy yet apparent simplicity— a true device of Mr. Stockton's
tireless fancy.

"We congratulate the novel reader upon the feast there is in 'The Late Mrs.
Null.' "-Hart/ord Post.

" We can assure prospective readers that their only regret after finishing the book
will be that never again can they hope for the pleasure of reading it again for the
first time." — Tke Critic.

"Original, bright, and full of the author's delicate humor." — New York Journal
of Commerce,

" ' The Late Mrs. Null' is delicious."— /}ost,yn/ou ma/.

Por sale hv all booksellers, or sent, post-paid, by the publishers,

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS,

^4} Sr J4^ Broadway, New-York.

^ ^BEAUTIFUL ^ElV EDITION.

By FRANK R. STOCKTON.

ILLTJSTRATED BY A.. B. FROST.

Owe vol., 12mo,

$2.00.

The new Rudder Grange has not been illustrated in a conventional
way. Mr. Fr^st has given us a series of interpretations of Mr.
Stockton's fancies, which will delight every appreciative reader, —
sketches scattered through the text ; larger pictures of ^'?%.

the many great and memorable events, and everywhere quaint orna-
ments. It is, on the whole, one of the best
existing specimens of the complete supple-
menting vi one another by author and
artist. The book is luxurious in the best ^^^"oV-f
sense of th ; word, admirable in typography,
convenient in size, and bound in a capital cover of Mr. Frost's design.

J^or sale by all booksellers, or sent, post-paid, by the Jjublishers,

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS.

743 ^ 745 Broadway, New-York.

DOMESTICLIS:

A T^LE OF THE IMPERML CITY.

By WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER,

Author of "Nothing to Wear," etc.

f volume, i2mo, $'.25

Mr. Butler, who made for himself a vast circle of
readers when he wrote " Nothing to Wear," has now given
them in this book a novel which is not less charming or
original than we had reason to expect from his pen. Con-
structed in unwonted lines, it is therefore the more accept-
able. It is the brightest and most thoroughly enjoyable
book in the lighter literature that has been published for
a long time.

" // is quaintly and delicately conceived, and agreeably

written His satire is never harsh or biting ;

on the contrary, it is light, ingenious, often graceful, and
invariably Just. In fact, he docs in prose here ivhat he so
felicitously accomplished in rhyme thirty years ago in
^Nothing to Wear.' "—New York Sun.

" The author s style is highly finished. One might
term it old-fashioned in its exquisite choiceness and pre-
cision. In these respects it affords a pleasant contrast to
the horridly written and slovenly ivorks zvhich make up so
large a share of inoder/i fiction.''— "^ev^ York Journal of
Commerce.

For sale by all booksellers, or sent, post-paid, by the publishers,

CHARLES SCRIBNERS SONS

J 4.'^ & 7^/5 Broadivay, Neiv- York.

New Dollar Novels

PUBLISHED BY

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS.

Each One Volume, 121110 Cloth, - - - ^i.oo

VALENTINO.

By IVILUAM WALDORF ASTOR.

Price reduced to One Dollar.

A romance founded upon the history of the Borgia family in the early pait
of the Sixteenth Century, during the lifetime of Pope Alexander VI.
and his son Cccsar Borgia. It presents a remarkab'y ca'efully studied
picture of those stirring times. A story full of spirit and action.

" The details of workmanship are excellent. Mr. Astor writes, appar-
ently, out of a full mind and a thoiough interest in his subject." — Atlantic
Monthly.

" His manner is dignified and his English pleasant and easy." — Boston
Advcrtist-r.

"It is well called a romance, and no romance indeed could be more
effective than the extraordinary extract from Italian a nals which it prcser es
in such vivid colors." — N. Y. Tribune.

"A signal addition to the really superior novels of the season." — The
Independent.

" One cannot read far in ' Valentino ' before perceiving that Mr. Astor
has written a very creditable roma ce in the historical field, and one tha^
would not have lacked readers bad the name been left off the tit'e." — N. Y,
Times,

2 SC/^IBNER'S NEW DOLLAR NOVELS.

THE LAST MEETING.

By BRANDER MATTHEIVS. '

Mr. Matthews combines successfully the old style of story, full of plot, and
the modern more subtle methods. The motif is most original and clear,
and at the same time the author shows an uncommon literary dexterity.
'1 he scene is laid in I\ew York.

*' It is an amusing story and the interest is carried through it from
beginning to end." — N. Y. Times.

" A wholesome society novel, a strikingly dramatic and thrilling tale,
and a tender love story, every word of which u worth reading." — Critic.

"A simple but ingenious plot, there is force and liveliness to the
narrative, and the pictures of New York social life are done by one ' to the
manner born.' " — Boston Post.

"A clever and thoroughly original tale, full of dramatic situations, and
replete with some new and most expressive Americanisms." — Literary
World.

WITHIN THE CAPES.

By HOWARD PYLE,

Author of " Tlie Merry Adventures of Robin Hood," etc., etc.

Mr. Pyle's novel is, first of all, an absorbingly interesting one. As a sea
story, pure and simple, it compares well with the best of Clak Russell's
tales, but it is much more ; ihe adventures of Tom Granger, the hero, are
by no means confined to sea life. Though never sensational, there are
plenty of exciting incidents and ever a well-developed mystery. The
plot is of the good old-fashioned thrilling sort and the style strong and
vigorous.

"Mr. Pyle proves himself a master of nautical technique and an
accurate observer. . . , His style is good and fresh, and in its concise
ncss resembles that of Marryatt." — A''. V. Journal of Covimerce.

"The style is so quaint, so felicitous, .-^o quietly humorous, that one
muU smile, wonder and admire." — LIa7-t ford Post.

SCRIBNER'S NEW DOLLAR NOVELS. 8

A WHEEL OF FIRE.

By ARLO BATES.

Mr. Bates' novel is sc unusually strong in its conception that it makes a
strong impression on this account alone. It is not only a striking s-tory,
but is told with remarkable power and intensity.

"A very powerful performance, not only original in its conception, but
full of fine literary art." — George Parsons Lathrop.

" One of the most fascinating storiesof the year." — Chicago Lnter-Ocean.

"A carefully written story of much originality and possessing great
interest." — Albany Argus,

" The plot is clearly conceived and carefully worked out ; the story is
well told with something of humor, and with a skillful management of
dialogue and narrative." — Art Lnterchange,

ROSES OF SHADOW.

By T. R. SULLIl^AN.

A most pleasant revival of a type of novel that has been growing rare. A
story well told, with the charm of a sincere self-respecting '"'e that
does not lose itself in a search after effects and oddities, and with a strong
and healthy plot, not frittered away by perpetual analysis.

"The characters of the story have a remarkable vividness and individ-
uality— every one of them — which mark at once Mr, Sullivan's strongest

promise as a novelist All of Mr. Sullivan's men are excellent.

John Musgrove, the grimly pathetic old beau, sometimes reminds us of a
touch of Thackeray." — Cincinnati Times-Star.

ACROSS THE CHASM.

^ STORY OF NORTH AND SOUTH.

A novel full of spirit and wit which takes up a new situation in American life.
The cleverness of the sketching, the admirable fairness of the whole,
and a cap.tal plot make the novel one of the brightest of recent years.'

"A story which will at once attract readers by its original and striking
ciUiilities."^^ournal of Commerce, N. V.

SCRTBNER'S NEW DOLLAR NOVELS.

"Nothing can be more freshly and prettily written than the last few
pages, when Louis and Margaret meet and peace' is made. It is a little idyl

of its kind 'Across the Chasm ' not being an impalpable stoiy,

but having a live young woman and a live man in its pages, deserves hearty
commendation." — N. Y. Times.

A DESPERATE CHANCE.

By Lieut, j. D.J. KELLEY, U.S.N.

"A Desperate Chance" is as absorbing as only a novel can be wlien told
with the verve of such a writer as Lieut. Kelley, It is a fresh, stirring story,
with sufficient adventure, romance and mystery to keep the reader absorbed.
It may safely be said that if the tale is once begun it will be finished in a
continuous reading, and we think of it as one of the stories we will always
remember distinctly, and which was well worth the reading.

"A stirring sea story." — New York Star.
" Lieut. J. D. J. Kelley's novel, 'A Desperate Chance,' is of the good
old-fashioned, exciting kind. Though it is a sea story, all the action is not
on board ship. There is a well-developed mystery, and while it is in no
sense sensational readers may be assured that they will not be tired out by
analytical descriptions, nor will they find a dull page from first to last." —
Brooklyn Union.

" 'A Desperate Chance' is a sea story of the best sort. It possesses the
charm and interest which attach us to sea life, but it does not bewilder the
reader by nautical extremes, which none but a professional s^ailor can under-
stand. 'A Desperate Chance' reminds us of Mr. Clark Russell's stories,
but Lieut. Kelley avoids the professional fault into which Mr. Russell has
fallen so often. The book is extraordinarily interesting, and this nowadays
is the highest commendation a novel can have." — Boston Courier

COLOR STUDIES.

By T. A. JANVIER (Ivory Black).

A series of most delightful pictures of artists' life in New York which first
attracted the attention of readers to Mr. Janvier as a writer of very
notable short stories. Certainly among stories dealing with artists' sur-
roundings there have never been written better tales than these which
are collected in this beautiful little volume.
"The style is bright, piquant and graphic, and the plots are full of

humor and originality." — Boston Traveler.

Charles Scribner's Sons.

PUBLISHERS,
"^4} &■ y4^ Broadway, New York.

POPULAR BOOKS

/// Yellow Paper Covers.
Each I Vol., l2mo, 50 cents.

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, Publishers.

THE AMERICA'S CUP!

HOW IT WAS WON BY THE YACHT AMERICA IN 1851, AND HOW
IT HAS BEEN SINCE DEFENDED.

WITH TWELVE FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS.

By Capt. ROLAND F. COFFIN.

"A history of all the races since 1851 for the possession of the trophy, the emblem
oi the yachting supremacy of the world— commonly called the Queen's Cup — with
an account of the English yachts Genesta and Galatea, entered for the races
sailed in September, 1885, for the possession of this most coveted prize. Also
descriptionsof the yachts Priscillaand Puritan. The book is interesting to thegen-
eral reader who wishes to keep informed upon a sport so fascinating to a large
class, and is invaluable to the yachtsman on account gf the completeness and
accuracy of its information." — Washington Post,

AN APACHE CAMPAIGN

IN THE SIERRA MADRE.

An Account of the Expedition in Pursuit of the Hostile Chiricahua Apaches in the
Spring of 1883. Illustrated.

By Capt. JOHN G. BOURKE.

"The publication of this book is of timely interest, following so soon upon the
lamented death of Capt. Emmet Crawford, who was conspicuous in the campaigns
described. . . . The subject is one of importance, and Capt. Bourke speaks
as one who is familiar with its practical branches.'' — N^'W York Times,

JOHN BULL AND HIS ISLAND.

By max O'RELL.

"Certainly not in our day has appeared a more biting, comprehensive and
clever satire than this anonymous French account of England. . . It is certainly
not to be wondered that the volume has produced a profound sensation in London ;
and it will undoubtedly be widely read in this country. Enemies of England will
read it with wicked glee; her friends with a mixture of pride and humiliation;
nobody, we apprehend, with indifference." — Boston Advertiser.

THE RUSSIANS ATTHE GATES OF HERAT.

By CHARLES MARVIN,

Principal authority of the English press on the Central Asia Dispute.
ILLUSTRATED WITH PORTRAITS AND MAPS.

"The most important contribution 10 a complete understanding of the present
quarrel between England and Russia." — A'ew ]'ork Tribune.

" Precisely meets the public want. The sale ought to reach 100,000 at least." —
New York Journal oj Comjnerce.

" IFi! know of vo more powerful work from a woman's
hand in the English language, nrt even excepting the lest of
George Eliot's." — Bos'iON TkansckH'T.

Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett's
Novels.

Uniform Library Edition.

THAT LASS O' LOIVRIE'S.

One volume, 121110, extra cloth - - - - $1.25

" The lest original fio7'el that has appeared in thit country
for many years." — I'HII.. 1'ress.

^'^ The publication of a story like ' That Lass d' Lowrie^s' is
a red-letter day in the world of literalure." — N. Y. IIerai.D.

" It creates a sensation among book-readers." — Hartford
Times.

•' The novel is one of the very best of recent fictions, and
th; novelist is hereafter a person of rank and consideration in
letters." — Hartfokd Courant.

" The story is one of mark, and let none of our readers who
enjoy the truest artistic work overlook it." — Coxgkegatio.n-

ALIST.

^ FAIR 'BARBARIAN.

One Volume, i2mo, extra cloth, . - - - $1.25

" The brightest and wittiest of Mrs. Burnett's stories." —
Baltimore Eveky Saiurdav.

'■''If a more amusing ot elver novelette than 'A Fair Bar-
barian has been given to the American public, we fail to recall
it." — Pittsburgh TtLEGRAi'H.

"A particularly sparkling story, the subject being the young
heiress of a Pacific silver-mine, thrown am-id the very proper
p ttv aristocracy of an English rural town," — SPRINGFIELD
Republican.

MRS. BURNETT'S NOVELS.

Through One zAdministration.

One volume, 121110, fxlra clolh, . . _ . $1.50
"/f / a study of Washington life, dealing largely with what
might be called social poitics, it is certainly a success. As a
society tio'el, it is indeed quite pc/ect." — I'HE CRnic.

" The pathetic fen'or which Mrs. Burnett showed so fully
in ' 7 hat Lass o' I.owrie's' is exhibited in many a touching
scene in her new story, 71 hie h is only to be fottnd fault with
because it is too touching."— I .o^Dos Athen^UM.

LOUISIANA.

One volume, i2mo, extra cloth, ... - f 1.25
"^ delightful little story, original and piquant in design,
and carried ottt with great artistic skill. " — BOSTON Sat. Eve.
Gaze 1 te.

" IFe commend this booh as the product of a skillful, tal-
ented, well-trained pen. Mrs. Burnett's admirers are already
numbered by the thousand, and every n.w work like this one
can only add to their number." — Chicago Tkibune.

haWorth's.

One volume, i2mo, extra cloth, .... $1.25
" ^Haworth's^ is a product of genius of a very high order.^'

— N. Y. Evening Post.

" // is but faint praise to speak of ' Ifmvorth's ' as merely a

good novel. Jt is one of the fezv great novels." — Hartford

COURANT.

SURL Y~^IM

AND OTHER STORIES.
One volume, i2mo, extra cloth, ... - $1.25

"''Each of these narratives have a distinct spirit, and can be
profitably read by nil classes of people. They are told not only
■with trtte art but w'ih deep pathos." — BosroN Post.

" The stories collected in the present volume are uncomtnonly
vigorous and truthful stories of human nature." — CHICAGO
Tribune,

Messrs. CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS take
pleasure in announcing that having become the
publisliers of all of Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett's
jvorks, they have begun the preparation of a new, uni-
form library edition. It is hardly necessary to speak
of the immense popularity of Mrs. Burnett's writings,
or of the need which has so often been expressed
of her books in a form suitable for preservation
upon the library shelves. The strength and power
of Joan Lowrie, " alike womanly and alike noble,"
the charm and loveliness of Olivia Bassett, the
" Fair Barbarian," and the distinctness and indi-
viduality of all of Mrs. Burnett's creations, ensure
for her books a high and lasting position in American
fiction.

In a critical estimate of the author's books, Mr.
R. H. Stoddard says :

" She discovers gracious secrets in rough and forbidding
natures- the sweetness that often underlies their

bitterness—the soul of goodness in things evil

Mrs. Burnett seems to have an intuitive perception of
character. If ive apprehend her personages, and I think
we do clearly, it is not because she describes them to us,
but because they reveal themselves in their actions. Mrs.
Burnett's characters are as veritable as Thackeray's.'"

€,