^r^^/ 
 
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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 IN MEMORY OF 
 
 James J, McBride 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 Margaret McBride
 
 ^^-. ^ 
 
 
 •V
 
 y60
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 AN INLAND VOYAGE. 
 
 EDINBURGH. 
 
 TRAVELS WITH A DONKEY. 
 
 VIRGINinUS 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. 
 
 (WITH NliS. STEVENSON.) 
 MORE NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS : The Dynamitek.
 
 t3>c'SHETL>ND 
 V' ISLANDS 
 
 1 
 
 ■ 
 
 / 
 
 'I 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 t 
 
 I 
 
 SCALE or MILES 
 
 Hi 100 
 
 n 
 
 lloa 
 ^.CLACKMANNAN 
 
 tC 

 
 KIDNAPPED: 
 
 BEING 
 
 flUmoirs of tljc ^.iiricnturcs of Daniii Calfour 
 
 IX THE YEAR 1751: 
 
 Hoio he iras Kidnapped and Cast aicay ; his Sufferings in a Desert 
 Isle; his Journey in the Wild Highlands ; his acquaintance rrith Alan 
 Breck Stewart and other notorious Highland Jacobites; ■with all that 
 he Suffered at the hands of his Uncle, Ehexezeu Balfour of Soaws, 
 
 falsely so-called : 
 
 mXxiXXtn l)|} ?t^imsclf. 
 
 and now set forth by 
 
 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNEE'S SONS. 
 
 1886. 
 
 [AU rights reserued.]
 
 I'ress of J. J. Little & Co. 
 Astor Place, New York.
 
 5484 
 1 QBCpo. 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 My dear Charles Baxter, 
 
 If you ever read this tale, you will likely ask yourself 
 more questions 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 wiiy the printed trial is silent as to all 
 that touches David Balfour. These are nuts 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 the tra- 
 dition of Appin clear in Alan's favour. If you inquire, 
 you may even liear that the descendants of " the other 
 man " who fired the shot are in the country to this day. 
 But 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 T am touched by the desire of accuracy. 
 
 1042224
 
 Vi DEDICATION. 
 
 TIlis is no furniture for the scholar's library, but ii 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 talc. 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 3'ou 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., iield 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. Vll 
 
 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 echo in your memory ! Let it 
 
 not echo often without some kind thoughts of your 
 
 friend. 
 
 R. L. S. 
 
 Skerryvore, 
 
 Bournemouth.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I SET OFF ON MY JOURNET TO THE HoUSE OF ShAWS 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 I COME TO AiY Journey's End 8 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 I MAKE Acquaintance with my Unci.e IG 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 I run a great Danger in the House of Shaws 27 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 I GO TO THE Queen's Ferry o9 
 
 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 Round-House 68 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 The Man with the Belt op Gold 76
 
 X CONTENTS. 
 
 TACiE 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The Siege op the Round House 90 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The Captain knuckles under 100 
 
 CHAPTER Xll. 
 
 1 UEAK OF THE ReD FOX 107 
 
 CHAPTER Xni. 
 The Loss of the Brig 120 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The Islet 129 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The Lad with the Silver Button : Through the Isle 
 OF Mull 143 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 The Lad with the Silver Button : Across Morven . . 154 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 The Death of the Red Fox 165 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 I Talk with Alan in the Wood of Lettermore 174 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 The House of Fear 186 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 The Flight in the Heather : The Rocks 196 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 The Flight in the Heather : The Heugh of Corryna- 
 
 kiegh. 
 
 209
 
 CONTENTS. XI 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 The Flight in the Heather : The Muir 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 286 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIIT. 
 I go in Quest of my Fortune 298 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 I come into my Kingdom 309 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 Good BYE ! ^^^^
 
 Kidnapped : 
 
 BEING 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE ADVENTURES OF DAVID 
 BALFOUR m THE YEAR 1751. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I SET OFF UPON MY JOURNEY TO THE HOUSE OF SHAWS. 
 
 I WILL begin the story 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 Essendean, was wait- 
 ing for me by the garden gate, good man ! He asked 
 me if I had breakfasted ; and hearing that I lacked for
 
 2 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 notliing, he took my hiind in l)otli of his, and clapped it 
 kindly under his arm. 
 
 " Well, Davie lad," said he, ''I Avill 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 Esscndean ? " said he, after a 
 while, 
 
 "Why, sir," sard 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 t^uth, if I thought 
 I had a chance to better myself where I was going, 1 
 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 
 Kilreunet, Campbell of Duns wire, 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 Shaws, these will be delivered 
 by my son, David Balfour." My heart was beating 
 hard at this great prospect aiow 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. 
 
 *'0f 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 sonie- 
 wluit 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 j)arting, and set you on 
 the right guard against the dangers of the world." 
 
 Here he cast about for a comfortable seat, lighted 
 on a big bonlder under a birch l)y 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. O 
 
 dinnae shame us ! In jon 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 : the 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, 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, which is cubical, that'll see you, it's my prayerful 
 wish, into a better land." ,
 
 6 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 Witli 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-leugth, 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 of 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 flowers, put into 
 a Glasse, close stopt, and set into ane hiU 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 mother lay.
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 T 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 tlie 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 tlic hearing of that merry 
 music. 
 
 A little farther ou, and I was told I was in Cramond
 
 KIDNAPPED. 9 
 
 parish, and began to substitute in my inquiries the 
 name of the house of Shaws. It was a word that seemed 
 to surprise those of whom -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," saj's 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'll like be your 
 business, mannie ? " 
 
 "I was led to think that I would get a situation," 
 I said, looking 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'li 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 tlie 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 hours 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 ])roof ; 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 hunner 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 <i skip, and was gone. 
 I stood wliere she left me, with my liair 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 nic 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 upon 
 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 the one wing of a house that had never 
 been finished. What should have been the inner end 
 stood open on the upper fioors, 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 cautiou.sly, 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 tlie dim light, 
 was a great pi^ce 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 wliole 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 
 month of a blunderbuss, at one of the first storey 
 windows. 
 
 " It's loaded," said a voice. 
 
 "1 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, 1 made sure the man started, for I heard the 
 blunderbuss rattle on the window-sill ; and it Avas 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.
 
 chaptp:r hi. 
 
 I MAKE ACQUAINTANCE OF MY UNCLE. 
 
 Presently 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 sleekens* my cough." He drank 
 the cup about half out, still keeping an eye upon me as 
 he drank; and then suddenly held out his band. ''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.
 
 18 KIDNAPPED. L 
 
 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, 'Hhat 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 mo. 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 his meat, I
 
 KIDNAPPED. 19 
 
 mind ; he was a hearty, 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. "JHe never said muckle when he 
 was young. He'll never have spoken muckle of me ? " 
 
 " I never knew, sir, 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. 1^ 
 
 "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 me 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 Ebenezer, "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 well, 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 lay down upon the floor 
 under the lee of the big bedstead, and fell speedily 
 asleep. 
 
 With the first peep 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 a^ 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 wc 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 meenistry, 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 Til 
 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, *'Fve 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 ii.ao warlock, to find a fortune for you in the bottom 
 of a parritch 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 liunner 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 proclaimed witch ! 
 I'll aff and see the session clerk." 
 
 * Sold up.
 
 KIDNAPPED. 25 
 
 And with that he opened a chest, and got out a very 
 old and well-preserved bine 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. 
 
 "1 cannae leave you by yoursel' in the house," said 
 he. *'ril 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 -comer of 
 the floor — "this is no the way to win ray 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 i 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, "I'll 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 GEEAT DANGEE IN THE HOUSE OF SHAWS. 
 
 Foe 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 
 ray distrust. 
 
 One thing I discovered, which put me in some doiibt. 
 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 Ebenezer 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' ; I 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 shonldnae
 
 KIDNAPPED. 29 
 
 speak to me about jour 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 with 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.
 
 30 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, 
 witii 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 daffing 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 1 said," returned my uncle ; '' pounds 
 sterling ! And if you'll step out-by to the 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 Avord ! " 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 mo 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;
 
 82 KIDNAPPED, 
 
 for as to the reason he liad 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 tlie 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 nae bannisters. 
 But the stairs are grand underfoot." 
 
 Out I went into the night. The wind was still 
 moaning in the distance, though never a breath of it
 
 KIDNAPPED. 33 
 
 came near the bouse of Sliaws. It had fallen blacker 
 than ever ; and I 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 bad got the key into the 
 keyhole and had Just turned it, when all upon a 
 sudden, without sound of wind or thunder, the whole 
 sky was lighted up with wild fire and went black again. 
 I had to put my band 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 bouse 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 thought 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 tluiL 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 i)assing 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. 
 The darkness, by contrast with the flash, appeared to 
 have redoubled ; nor was that all ; for my ears Avere 
 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 l)cen carried no 
 higher: to set a stranger mounting it in the darkness 
 was to send hiui straight to his death; and (although,
 
 KIDNAPrED. 35 
 
 thanks to the lightning and my own precautions, I was 
 safe enough) the mere thought of the peril in which I 
 might 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, whicli 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 ujion the heels of it, a 
 great tow-row of thunder. 
 
 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 ont ;i grcut case bottle of aqua 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 his lips, drink 
 down the raw spirits by the mouthful. 
 
 I stepped forward, came close behind him where ho 
 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 
 mvself 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 cuj^board 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 purpose. 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 tilings (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. 37 
 
 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. " man, are ye alive ?" 
 
 " That am I," said I. "Small 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." His breath came slower still. 
 
 t 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 speed 
 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 KTDXAPPED. 
 
 liiul tried to kill mo. lie lieiinl 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 death 
 I will." 
 
 And so weak was lie 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 had not shone there for many a long 
 year, and wrapping myself in my pliitl, lay down npon 
 the chests and fell asleep.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 I GO TO THE queen's FERRY. 
 
 Much rain fell in the ni^ht ; and the next morning 
 there blew a bitter wintry wind out of the north-west, 
 driving scattered clouds. For all that, and before the 
 Sim began to peep or the last of the stars had vanished, 
 Tmade 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 shrcAvdness. 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 whicli men could 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 np-stairs 
 and gave my prisoner his liljerty. 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 yon 
 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 
 countjy Johnnie Eaw, 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 liiin so, 
 when 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 tlie 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 ray delight, of a shiny night 
 In the season of the 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 you shall 
 have a bite if I go empty for it." 
 
 With that I brought him in and set him down to 
 my own place, where he fell-to greedily on the remaiais
 
 42 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 of breakfast, winkino^ to mo between whiles, and makinf? 
 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 ai)art into the 
 furthest corner of the room. 
 
 ''Read that," said he, and put the letter in my 
 hand. 
 
 Hero it is, lying before me as I write : 
 
 " The Hawes Tnn, at tho Queen's Perry. 
 " Sir, — T lie hero with my hawser up and down, and send niy 
 cabin-boy to infornio. If you have any I'urtlier coininnnds for 
 ovor-scas, to-day will he the last occasion, as the wind will serve 
 us well out of the firth. I will not seek to deny that I have had 
 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 nuui 
 Hoseason, the captain of a trading brig, the Covounit, 
 of Dysart. Now, if you 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. Eankeillor's, After a' that's come and 
 gone, ye would be swier f to believe me upon my 
 
 * Agent. f Unwilling.
 
 KIDNAPPED. 43 
 
 naked word ; but ye'll can believe Eankeillor. He's 
 factor to half the gentry in these jiarts ; an auld 
 man, forby : highly respeckit ; and he kenned your 
 father." 
 
 I stood awliile and tliought. I was goiiig to some 
 place of ship^iing, which was doubtless populous, and 
 where my uncle durst attemjit 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 propos- 
 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 month 
 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 fi'ost. 
 
 Uncle Ebcnezer trudged in the ditch, jogging from
 
 44 KTDXAPPET). 
 
 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 Captain 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 cabin-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. "That's Mr. 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 pride. 
 
 *' What !" I cried, "do you take such savage usage 
 at his hands ? Why, 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 me see him try ; I dare him to ; 
 I'll do for him! 0, he ain't the first!" And he 
 confirmed it with a poor, silly, ugly oath. 
 
 I have never felt such a pity for any one in this wide 
 world as I felt for that lialf-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. 
 
 He 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 he ran the coiitinuiil peril of his 
 life, not alone from wind and sea, but by the horrid 
 cruelty of those who were his masters. lie 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 wollo}> 'em." And so he ran 
 on, until it came in on mc that what he meant by 
 twenty- pounders Avcre 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 word went) for ])rivate interests or 
 vengeance. 
 
 Just then we came to the top of the hill, and looked 
 down on the ferry and the hope. Tiie Firth of Forth 
 (as is very well known) narrows at this point to tlie 
 width of a good-sized river, which makes a couveu-
 
 KIDNAPPED. -17 
 
 ient ferry going north, and turns the upper reach 
 into a land-locked haven for all manner of ships. Right 
 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 Hawes 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 with pas- 
 sengers. A skitf, however, lay beside the pier, Avith 
 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 Avind 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 Avay, 
 I looked at that ship with an extreme abhorrence ; and 
 from the bottom of my 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."
 
 CHArTER 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 ears ; 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 the 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 KIDNAPPEI). 
 
 turc. Sir, it's the same with most men tluit have been 
 carbonadoed, as they call it, in ilic 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 share in my misfortunes. For though I had 
 promised myself not to let my kinsman out of sight, I 
 was both so impatient 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 tlic 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 Avceds 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 oC 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 
 with 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 that looked 
 less desperate than his fellows, and asked him of the 
 sailing of the brig. He said they would get under way 
 as soon as the ebb set, and expressed his gladness to be 
 out of a port where there Avere no taverns and fiddlers ; 
 but all with such horrifying oaths, that I made haste to 
 get away from him. 
 
 This threw me back on Ransome, 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 jiunch. I told 
 him I 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 called me names ; but he was 
 glad to get the ale, for all that ; and presently we 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. Rankeillor. 
 
 *' 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. 
 
 Tio fri(Mi(l of liis?"' lio luskecl, juciUiiiiL;', in (hc8cotcli 
 way, that 1 would Itc no relative. 
 
 I told liini no, none. 
 
 *' I thought not," said he ; " and yet yc have a kind 
 of gliff * of Mr. Alexander." 
 
 I said it seemed that El)onczer was ill-seen in the 
 country. 
 
 ''Nac doubt," said the landlord. "He's a wicked 
 auld man, and there's many would 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. 
 
 " On, just that he had killed him," said the hmd- 
 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 lie had been im- 
 patient to do from the beginning. 
 
 * Look. f Rope. I Itcport.
 
 KIDNAPPED. 63 
 
 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 rich 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 lieed 
 to what I saw ; only I remember 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 Ransomo 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 ; iiiul for my own ]);irt, 1 like 3'our looks. I 
 wish I was for lou^ca- here, tluit we mijjht make the 
 better friends ; l)nt 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 1 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, theboat'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 aloud, 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 ? tlie cardinal bird 
 Ihat 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. T 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. 55 
 
 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) lioseason, 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 whij^ped 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, help I Murder ! "—so that both sides of the
 
 C)C) KIDNAPPED. 
 
 ancliorage ran"; witli it, and my iinclo turned round 
 whero lie was sitting, and showed ine a face full of 
 cruelty and terror. 
 
 It was the last I saw. Already strong hands had 
 been plucking me back from the shi|)'s side ; and now a 
 thunderbolt seemed to strike me ; I saw a great Hash ot 
 fire, and fell senseless.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 I GO TO SEA IN THE BRIG "COVENANT" OF DYSART. 
 
 I CAME to myself in darkness, in groat pain, bound 
 hand and foot, and deafened by many unfamiliar noises. 
 There sounded in my ears a roaring of water as of 
 a huge mill-dam ; the thrashing of heavy sprays, tlie 
 thundering of the sails, and the shrill cries of seamen. 
 The whole world now heaved giddily up, and now 
 rushed 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 j)ain, to 
 realise that I must be Ivino^ somewhere bound in the 
 belly 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 the sickness of an unused lands-
 
 58 KIDNArPED. 
 
 man on Uio soa, Tti tliai time of my adventurous youth, 
 I sulTorod many liardslii])s ; hut nono that was so crush- 
 ini^ lo my mind and Ixxly, or lit by so few hopes, as 
 these first hours on board tl\e 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 ihc deep 
 sea, was welcome to mo. Yet it was no such matter ; 
 hut (as I was afterwards told) a common habit of the 
 captain's, which I here sot 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 whore old Mrs. Hoseason, 
 the captain's mother, luid 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 had 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 \ipon 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 liy the light of a hand-lantern shining 
 in my face. A small man of about thirty, Avith green 
 eyes and a tangle of fair hair, stood looking down at me.
 
 KIDNAPPED. 59 
 
 " Well," said he, "how goes it ?" 
 
 I answered by a sob ; and my visitor then felt my 
 pulse and temples, and set himself to wash and diess 
 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 
 my prison, I coiild 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. 
 lie was followed \)y the captain. Neither said a word ; 
 but the first set to and examined me, and dressed my 
 wound as before, while Iloseason looked me in my face 
 with an odd, black look. 
 
 ''Now, sir, you see for 3'onrsolf," 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 liole and j)ut in the 
 forecastle." 
 
 "What ye may want, sir, is a matter of concern to 
 nobody Imt yoursel','' returned the captain ; " but I can 
 tell ye that which is to be. Here he is : here he siiall 
 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 bo the second officer of this old tub ; and you ken 
 very well if I do my best to earn it. But 1 was paid 
 for nothing more." 
 
 " If ye could bold back your hand from the tin-pan, 
 Mr. Riach, I would have no comi)laint to make of ye," 
 returned the skip])er ; "and instead of asking riddles, I 
 make bold to say that ye would kee]) your l)reath 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. 
 
 Hoseason turned upon him with a flash. 
 
 "What's that?" he cried. "' What kind of talk is 
 that ? " 
 
 " It seems it is the talk that you can understand," 
 said Mr. Riach, looking liim 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 ! — it comes 
 from a bad heart and a black conscience. If ve sav the 
 lad will die " 
 
 "Ay, will he !" said Mr. Riach. 
 
 "Well, sir, is not that enough?" said Hoseason. 
 " Flit him where you jjlease !" 
 
 Tiicreupon the captain ascended the 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 jiftcrwurds my bonds were cut, I was 
 hoisted on u man's back, carried u]) to tlie 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 well again. 
 There were no bones broken, he exclaimed : "A clour* 
 on the head was nae thing. Man," said he, '' it was me 
 that gave it ye ! " 
 
 Here I lay for the sjiace of numy 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 miisters no less cruel. There were 
 some among them that had sailed with the pirates and 
 seen things it would be a shame even to s})eak of ; some 
 
 * Blow.
 
 KIDNAPPEJ). 63 
 
 were men that had run from the king's ships, and went 
 Avith a halter round their necks, of whicli they made no 
 secret; and all, as the saying goes, were "at a word and 
 a blow " Avith 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 luid drawn away 
 from them at the Ferry pier, as though they had been 
 unclean beasts. No class of man is altogether bad ; but 
 each has 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 mo 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 KlDNAPl'EI). 
 
 tliuugli it. Avas uboiil u thirel >siiurl, J was very yhul to 
 get it, and liopcd great good from it in tlic 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- 
 nies and the formation of the United States, it has, of 
 course, come to an end ; hut in these days of my youth, 
 white men were still sold into slavery on the plantations, 
 and that was the destiny to which my wicked uncle had 
 condemned me. 
 
 The cabin-boy Ransomc (from whom I had first 
 heard of these atrocities) came in at times from the 
 round-house, wliere he berthed and served, now nursing 
 a bruised limb in silent agony, now raving against the 
 cruelty of Mr. Shuan. It made my heart bleed ; but 
 the men had a great respect for the chief mate, who was, 
 as they said, ''tlie only seaman of the whole 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. liiach was sullen, unkind, and harsh 
 when he was sober, and Mr. Shuan would not hurt a 
 fly excejjt when he was drinking. I asked about the 
 captain ; but I was told drink made no difference upon 
 that man of iron. 
 
 I did my best in the small time allowed 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' stones : 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 house a place in which seamen 
 would be drugged 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 run 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. Kiach (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 u]) and 
 down against head-seas, so that the scuttle was almost 
 constantly shut, and tiio 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 \vas 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 got, 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 should 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 should be 
 mounting his horse at his own door at home ; many and 
 many ! And life is all a variorum, at the 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 forecastle.
 
 CHAPTER VI J I. 
 
 TTTE ROUND-HOUSE. 
 
 One night, about nine o'clock, ii 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 " 8hnan had done for him at last." There 
 was no need of a name ; wo 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 Ca])tain Hoseason came down the 
 ladder. He looked sharply rouiul the bunks in the toss- 
 ing light of the lantern ; and tlien, 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. 69 
 
 "Kim 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, under the arched foot of the fore- 
 sail, I could see the sunset still quite bright. This, at 
 such an hour of the night, surprised me 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 mc I need not be afraid of him just then ; and I 
 whispered in his car, *' 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. Riach came in. Me 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, with 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. Slman Avas on his feet in a trice ; he still looked 
 dazed, but he meant muixler, 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 murdei-ed 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 Avord, 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 
 ofiScer, took him by the shoulder, led him across to his 
 bunk, and bade him lie down and go to sleep, as you
 
 7-3 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. Eiach, 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 Kiach. "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 serve 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 di'am, and when a fresh w^atch 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-legs) 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 ten'or) 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 ? '' lie asked. 
 
 "No, sir," said I. 
 
 "There was another boy?" he asked again; and 
 when I had answered him, "Ah !*' says he, "I thought 
 Huit/'aiid went and sat down, without anotlier word, 
 except to call for brandy. 
 
 You 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 Lcith ; 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 ]nckles, 
 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 was 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 i)art of 
 the time, would sometimes unbuckle a bit, and tell me 
 of the fine countries he had visited. 
 
 The shadow of poor Ransome, 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 upon, and one of whom, at least, should
 
 KIDNAPPED. 75 
 
 have hung upon a gallows; that was for the present; 
 aud 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, rebuflfed 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, 
 which kept me from thinking.
 
 CHAPTElt IX. 
 
 THE MAN WITH THK I5ELT OF GOLD. 
 
 More than a week went by, in which the ill-hick that 
 had hitherto pursued the Cove?ianf upon this voyage 
 grew yet more strongly marked. Some days she made 
 a little way ; 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, wiien 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 as 
 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 Avith 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 
 ovea-coat 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 
 pistols on the table, and I saw that he was belted with 
 a great sword. His manners, besides, were elegant, and
 
 78 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 ho pledged the captain handsomely. Altogether I 
 thought of him, at the first sight, that here was a man 
 I would 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 luul 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 iiandsome silver lace : costly clothes, 
 though somewhat spoiled with 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 have 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 wi»rld 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 tlic face of them.
 
 KIDNAPPED. ' 79 
 
 " Well, sir," says the other, " and so has many a 
 pretty man, for the matter of that." 
 
 *' No doubt, sir," 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 eacli 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 quite 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 tlie 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 luivo that upon me will reward 
 you highly for your trouble." 
 
 "In France?" says the captain. *' No, sir; that I 
 cannot do. lint 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 aljout 
 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 chief tain " — 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 rae 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 (rather hur- 
 riedly, I thought), and left me alone in the round-liouse 
 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 those 
 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 oat. "And you, by 
 your long face, should be a Whig ? " * 
 
 " Betwixt and between," said I, not fo 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 gi'udged a dram ui)ou 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 Avind (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 why, 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 ; '^le 
 hasn' room to use his sword." 
 
 "^ Well, that's true," said Eiach ; "but he's hai'd to 
 come at." 
 
 " Hut !" said Hoseason. ''We can get the man in 
 talk, one upon each side, and pin him 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, aud tl)e bottle's out. \\ ill 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," lie 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 (piite 
 natural. 
 
 "The trouble is," resumed the captain, "that all our 
 firelocks, gj'eat 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 ])oar it in mind when it'll be good 
 for you to have friends ; and that's when we come to 
 Carolina." 
 
 Here Mr. Riach whispered him a little. 
 
 *'Very right, sir," said the captain; and then to 
 myself: "And see hero, David, yon man has a beltt'ul 
 of gold, and I give you my word that you shall have 
 your fingers in it." 
 
 I told him I wouhl do as he wished, though indeed
 
 KIDNAPPED. 85 
 
 I had scarce breath to speak wi th ; 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 mo. 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 jiart 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 wasliing round tlic 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 main battle. In that, 
 ye have no hand. And mind and dinnac 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, than ye must climb up 
 into yon bed where ye're handy at the window ; aud 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 I. "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 Alan. "Bat 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 ROUND-HOUSE. 
 
 But now our time of truce was come to nn 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 x\lan, 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 l)egins, 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 your hand keep your 
 head, for 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 rabbed 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 that made me 
 long to sell my life as dear as I 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 tliat 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 
 through 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 ray 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 80 swelled with triumph and fallen into so fine an
 
 KIDNAPPED. 93 
 
 attitude, that he looked to be invincible. Right before 
 hira 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 us, and done with 
 it, there'll be nae sleep for either you 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, Avlien I 
 began to hear stealtliy 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 Alan's side ; and I had begun to 
 think my share of the fight was at an end, when I heard 
 some one drop softly on the roof above me. 
 
 Then there 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 dashed 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 bod}'. 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 otliers, had run in 
 under his guard and caught him about the bod3^ 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 
 was driving theju 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 bi'ave ; and meanwhile the 
 seamen continued running and crying out as if he was 
 still behind them ; and we heard thera tumble one upon 
 another into the forecastle, and clap-to the hatch upon 
 the top. 
 
 The round-house was like a shambles; 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 ? '' 
 
 Tliereupon he turned to the four enemies, passed his 
 sword clean through oaeli of tiiem, 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 aii- ; 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 hnnd 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 tlie isles of the sea. 
 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 less than 
 just'to me, who stood beside him in tlie tussle. Mr. 
 Shuau and five more were eitlicr killed outright or 
 thoroughly disabled ; but of these, two fell by my hand, 
 the two that came by the skvlight. 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 l)reathe ; the thought of 
 the I wo men I had shot sat upon me like a nigiitmare ; 
 and nil u|)()n a sudden, and before T 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 slee]). 
 
 " 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 temper, that Mr. Riach and the captain had to 
 take turn and turn (like Alan and me), or the brig 
 might have gone ashore 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 jndged 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 roimd-house, I saw the great stone hills of Skye on 
 the riglit hand, and, a little more astern, the strange 
 isle of Rum.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE CAPTAIN KNUCKLKS UNDKR. 
 
 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 in the 
 ship — 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 1'ore-purt of 
 the shi}) 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 never from his bottle." 
 
 We made good comjmny 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. 
 
 round-house, 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. Mr. Riach, as I do not 
 think he had been very forward in the battle, so he hud 
 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 
 wounded. 
 
 " 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 tlie 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 Avord ! " 
 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 are better 
 able to talk to you." 
 
 "Ay ?" said Alan ; "and faith, I'll have a talk with
 
 104 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 thcin mysel' ! Unless there's luiebodj speaks English 
 in tiiat town, I luivc a bonny tale for them. Fifteen 
 tarry sailors upon the one side, and a man and a iialf- 
 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 officer 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 Morven, 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 feckless 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 l)y 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 fevv^ 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. Til 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 XII. 
 
 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 the 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 was 
 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 tiie 
 pwcll came up, was very pleasant, sailing, as we were, 
 in a bright sunshine and with many mountainous islands 
 upon (lilTerent 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 ns 
 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 more angry." 
 
 " You that are so wasteful of your buttons,'' said I, 
 " 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 Bhick 
 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 Batcher 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 
 fatiier, 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 
 (quality. 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 vsome say it was another ; but 
 the tiiith of it is, that it was Duncan Stewart, as 1 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 f Icll 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 
 liarht side at Preston Pans — and that's some comfort." 
 
 I could scarcely share this view : holding desertion 
 under arms 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 1 have 
 the King of France's commission in my pocket, which 
 would aye be some protection." 
 
 "I misdoubt it much," said I. 
 
 " 1 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 serve the King of France : recruits, ye see ; and 
 that's aye a little money. But 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 ; bvit this is the truth of it. And its 
 wonderful to me how little pressure is needed. But 
 that's the handiwork of juy 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." 
 
 Tills was the first time I heard the name of that 
 James Stewart, who was afterwards so famous at the 
 time of his hanging. 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 ; hut I call it noble. " 
 
 "Ay," said he, " ye're a Whig, but ye're a gentle- 
 man ; and that's what does it. Now, if ye were one of 
 the cursed race of Campbell, ye would gnash your 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, 
 Ardsliiel 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 
 strip]>ed him of his powers ; they stripped him of his
 
 114 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 lands ; tliey plucked the weapons from the hands of his 
 clansmen, that had borne arms for thirty centuries ; ay, 
 and the very clotlies 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 Glenure " 
 
 "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 Ap])in. 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 boumeu, 
 were wringing their very plaids to get a second rent, 
 and send it overseas for Ardshiel 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 l)o able to prevent it ? Ah ! 
 Red Fox, if ever I IujM 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 Maccolls, and Macrobs (for these are 
 all names in my clan, David), '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), otfered 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 Seech- 
 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 Fox. 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, there grows not enough 
 heather in all Scothind to hide him from my vengeance! " 
 
 ''Man Alan," said I, ''ye 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. Wliat 
 did he next ?" 
 
 " And that's a good observe, David," said Ahm. 
 "Troth and indeed, they will do him no harm; the 
 more's the pity ! And barring that about Christianity 
 (of whicli 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 
 tauglit 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 beliind 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 bo 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 wouldnae 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 
 the place where 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 Eed Colin ? If he can hurt Ard- 
 shiel, he has his wish ; if he can pluck the meat from 
 my 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 
 take less rents, be sure Government has a finger in 
 the pie. It's not this Campbell's fault, man — it's his 
 orders. And if ye killed this Colin to-morrow, what 
 better 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 
 ,'inger under his contempt that I thought it was wise to 
 change the conversation. 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 
 hare 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' houses and friends' byres and haystacks. And
 
 118 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 besides, when folk talk of a country covered with troops, 
 it's but a kind of a byword at the best, A soldier covers 
 nae mair of it than his boot-soles. I iiave fished a water 
 with a sentry on the otiier side of the brae, and 
 killed a fine trout; and I have sat in a heather bush 
 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 wiiat 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 biding 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
 
 KIDNAPPKD. 119 
 
 excellent fencer with the small sword as well as with 
 his own particular weapon. For his faults, they were 
 on his face, and 1 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 I 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.
 
 (IIIAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE LOSS OF THE BRIG. 
 
 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 lloseason 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 
 j)lain to both of us he 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 lingered ; 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 tis 
 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 tiie 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. Riuch 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. Riacli ; we'll 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 the oflficers ; 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 laiul 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 laud, 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
 
 12-i 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. *' Yc have 
 saved the brig, sir ; I'll mind that when we come to 
 clear accounts." And I believe he not only meant what 
 ho 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 iiad 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. Eiacli 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 
 breakinof of the heavier seas continiiullv 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 brig, 
 he seemed to suffer 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 upon the seas and cry us warning. Well, we had
 
 126 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 the boat about ready to be launclied, when this man 
 sung 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 hor over on 
 licr beam. Whether the cry came too late or my hold 
 was too weak, I know not ; liut at the sudden tilting of 
 the siiip, 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 tlu' 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 lo 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 together; but whether or 
 not they had yet launched the boat, I was too far off 
 and too low down to see. 
 
 While I was iiailing Ihe 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 ti-act 
 swung to one side, like the tail of a live sei-pent ; 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 
 mast 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 tlie 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. 
 
 The sea was here quite quiet ; there was no sound of 
 anv 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 was 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 moi-e grateful. 
 Both at least, I was : tired as I never was before that 
 night ; and grateful to God, as I trust I have been ofteti; 
 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-past 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 first 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. 
 9
 
 130 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 I Avas al'raicl 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 hnngcr, I had enough to 
 i rouble me without that. So I set oif 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 w^alking ; indeed tlie whole, 
 not only of Earraid, l)ut of the neighbouring part of 
 Mull (which they call the Eoss) 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 noHon 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 ears ; 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 np, I must have 
 cast myself down and given up. AVhether 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 
 some twenty feet in front of me.
 
 132 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 I hud borne up well until this last dis;i])pointmont ; 
 but lit that I came ashore, and Hung myself down upon 
 the sands and wept. 
 
 The time I spent upon tlic 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, they had 
 either their pockets full of tools, or a chest of things 
 would be thrown upon the beach along with them, as 
 if on ])urpose. 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 tiiat sheil-flsli 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 ^j^ 
 cold and raw as I found them ; and so hungry was I, 
 that at first they seemed to mo 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
 
 f 
 
 KIDNAPFED. 133 
 
 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 fish 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 Ross, opened out on the iiorth 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 peck at
 
 134 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 a time : and this was doubtless a convenience. But the 
 other reason went deeper. I luul 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 lona. 
 And on the other hand, over the low country of the 
 Ross, 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 
 burned. It was the same with the roofs of lona. 
 Altogether, this sight I had of men's homes and com- 
 fortable lives, although it ])ut 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 ])assi ng on the
 
 ^ 
 
 KIDNAPPED. 135 
 
 Ross, 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 
 lona. 
 
 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 w^as 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 upon 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 hole, 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 Ross 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 nails and grinding my face in the 
 earth. If a wisli 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 Avith 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 
 ujion 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 direction, 
 
 I began at once to hope and fear exceedingly ; for I 
 thought tliese 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 
 Ear raid 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 
 y^ 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 Avithin 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. 
 
 niG most of all, the new man tee-heeM with laughter as 
 he lalkod and looked at nie, 
 
 'IMion he stood np in the boat and addressed me a 
 long while, speaking fast and with many wavings of his 
 liand. I told him I had no (raelic ; 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" several times; but all the rest 
 was Gaelic, and might have been (xrcok and Hebrew for 
 me. 
 
 '' Whatever," said I, to show him I had caught a 
 word. 
 
 ''Yes, yes— yes, yes," says he, and then he looked at 
 the other men, as much as to say, " I told you I s])oke 
 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. 
 
 "Y>o you mean when the tide is out ? " T 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-iiee 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. 141 
 
 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, Avho had the tide 
 going out and in 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 had 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 my 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 Avicked men and fools, a great many of 
 both ; and I believe they both get paid in the end ; but 
 the fools first.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THK LAI) AVITH THE SILVER BUTTON : THROUGH THE 
 
 ISLE OE MULL. 
 
 The Ross of Mull, which I liiid now 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 countiy 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 often from the island ; and with all my great weari- 
 ness and the diflQculty of the way, came upon the house 
 at the bottom of u 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 had, 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 ;ind stockings, while the rest had sailors' 
 trousers. 
 
 "Ah," said I, "and he would have a feathered 
 hat ? " 
 
 He told me, no, that he 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 because my friend was safe, 
 partly to think of his vanity in dress. 
 
 And then the 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, i>utling my shoulder and smiling to me all the 
 time, for she had no English ; and the old gentleman 
 (not to be behind) brewed 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 {is 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 l^ressed 
 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 Avayside 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 
 rel)ellion, and the people condemned to the lowland 
 habit, which 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 
 an 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-way, 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 rapine 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 jilack 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 
 10
 
 146 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 them and pointed ; but instead of simply pointing in 
 reply, they would give nie 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 jwor a country, and held up one 
 of my guineas in my finger and thunil). 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 
 would 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. Tlie odd shilling he kept for himself, protesting 
 he could ill afford to have so great a sum of money 
 lying 'Hocked up." For all that he was very courteous
 
 KIDNAPPED. 147 
 
 and well spoken, made us both sifc down with his family 
 to dinner, and brewed punch in a fine china bowl ; over 
 which my rascal guide grcAV 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 live 
 shillings. But Maclean had taken his share of the 
 punch, and vowed that no gentleman should leave his 
 table after the bowl was 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 oiit 
 of sight of the back Avindows, 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 
 going with me."
 
 14:8 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 The impudent cheat answered me in the Gaelic that 
 lie 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 ve 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. " ila !'•' 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 chuckled 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 Avas 
 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 jiretty 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 I 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 groat 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 conld 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," saj's he, "where I 
 knew every stone and heath erbush 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 
 cocked 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 Ihe steel of the butt. But by 
 the better luck for nie, ho 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 rich, whether I could change 
 a five-shilling jjiece 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. AVe 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 catechist 
 grew angrier and angrier, and at last began to swear in 
 Gaelic and to strike for my legs with his staff. 
 
 Then I told him that, sure enough, I had a pistol iu 
 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 other, 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, wlio was a Maclean, it a])peared, of a very 
 liigli family ; for to keep an inn is thonglit even more 
 genteel in the Highlands than it is with us, perhaj)S 
 as ])artaking of hospitality, or jierhaps because the 
 trade is idle and drunken. He s[)oke good English, and 
 finding mo to be something of a scholar, tried me first 
 in French, where he easily beat me, and then in T^atin, 
 in which T don't know Avhich of ns did l»ost. Tins 
 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. 
 
 AVhen 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 another 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 part 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 had been at the 
 beginning.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE LAD WITH TUE SILVER BUTTON: ACROSS MORVEN. 
 
 There is a regular ferry from Torosay to Kinloclialine 
 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 boat, on the other hand, 
 was called Neil Roy Macrob ; and since Macrob was one 
 of the names of Alan's clansmen, and Alan himself had 
 sent me to that ferry, I w.is eager to come to private 
 speech of Neil Eoy. 
 
 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 
 Avhat with the songs, and the sea air, and the good 
 nature and spirit of all concerned, and the bright 
 weatlier, 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 the 
 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. 
 
 Tliereupon 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. 
 
 l)ent ut. the oars ; and the circumstances, and the music 
 of the song (wliicli 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 Ai)])in'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 (lie but- 
 ton lying in tiu^ 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 see 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 apologise ; 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 Daror of Apjiin. 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 i^rospects. 
 
 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 Ilighljinders. 1 was not only discontented 
 with my lodging, but with myself for my mismanuge- 
 ment of Neil, and thought I could luirdly be worse oif. 
 But very wrongly, 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 Avhich 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 Avith 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 jiarticnlar 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 I 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 wise : 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 KIDNAPrED. 
 
 1 (lioiii^lil, would seem natural enough in the mouth of 
 one travelling to that country. 
 
 He s;ii(l it was a had husincss. ''It's wonderful," 
 said hO;, " 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 ? No. Well, I'm hetter 
 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 (liens) 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 cue they call Alan Breck " 
 
 " Ah ! " cried I, " what of him ? " 
 
 "What of the wind that bloweth where it listeth ?" 
 said Ilenderland. "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 right 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 m 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 tlie 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, nae doubt 
 — they all hing together like bats in a steeple) and had 
 the proceedings stayed. And then Colin Campbell cam' 
 11
 
 162 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 in again, and had the npj^cr hand before the Barons of 
 Exchequer. And no\v 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 ii limbic way of it." 
 
 " Do you think they'll fight ?" I asked. 
 
 "Well," says Ilenderland, "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 wouldnac be well pleased till I got him home 
 again. They're queer customers, the Appin Stewarts." 
 
 I asked if they were worse than their neighbours. 
 
 "No they," said he. "And that's the worst jiart of 
 it. For if Colin Eoy can get his business done in Ap- 
 pin, he has it all to begin again in the next country, 
 which they call Mamore, and which 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 tiic day ; until at last, Mr. Ilenderland, 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. Hendcr- 
 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 great 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
 
 16i KIDNAPPKD. 
 
 said he had a duty to perform by Mr. CamplK'll, 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 lie 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 Avorld and among 
 cold, proud people ; but Mr. Henderland had their very 
 speech upon his tongue. And though I was a good deal 
 l)uffcd 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 left him poorer than myself.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE DEATH OF THE RED FOX. 
 1 
 
 The next day Mr. Heiulerland 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 uiul then, too, tlicre came little sparks and 
 lightnings, as thongh 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 T have heard it both ways) in Alan's country 
 of Appin. 
 
 Tliis 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. Ilenderland's and 
 think upon my situation. 
 
 Here T was not only troubled by a cloud of stinging
 
 KIDNAPPED, 167 
 
 midges, but far more by the doubts of my mind. What 
 I ouglit 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 v/earing 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 KIDKAPPED. 
 
 brew punch with) hanging at the saddle-how ; as was 
 often enoiigli the custom with hixurious travellers in 
 that part of the country. 
 
 As for the fourth, who hronght 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 starts 
 up out of the bracken, and sjjeers 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 uj) and were gazing 
 at me, while the two followers had halted about a stone- 
 cast in the rear. 
 
 "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 people 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 h^ard 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 yc 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. 
 
 The lawyer had caught him up and held him in his
 
 170 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 arms, the servant standing over and clasping liis hands. 
 And now the wounded man looked from one to another 
 with seared eyes, and there was a change in his voice 
 that 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, but 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 liis 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 
 seases ; 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, tliat 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 mj 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 oflBcer 
 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, had
 
 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 tlie 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 210 time for civilities ; only 
 " Come ! " says lie, 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.
 
 KIDNAPPED. 173 
 
 "Now," said he, " it's earnest. Do as I do for your 
 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 LETTERMORE. 
 
 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 mc, 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. 175 
 
 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 keu 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. 
 
 " No," 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 
 Skerryvore, 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 poke 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 groat 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 temj^ted ; but to take a 
 life in cold blood, Alan !" And I could say no more 
 for the moment. " And do you 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 5'et," 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. " The innocent 
 
 should surely come before the guilty," 
 
 " Why, David," said he, " the innocent have aye a 
 13
 
 178 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 chance to got assoiled in court ; but for the lad that 
 shot the bullet, I think the best i)lace for him will be 
 the heather. Them that havenae 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." 
 
 When 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. Ilenderland's words came back to me : 
 that Ave 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 lie 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 
 Apjiin 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. 
 
 *' ! " 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 here, 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 would 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 Altin, "that you Low country bodies 
 have uo 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 Ilielands, 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 liarder yet to lie shackled in a red- 
 coat prison." 
 
 I asked him whither we should flee ; and as he told 
 mo " 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 I. " I'll go with 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 : Nane. 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 birchwood ; 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 conld 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 us 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 tlian 
 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. 
 When she had struck first, it had been bows-on, so that 
 the stern had hitherto been lowest. But now her stem 
 was thrown in the air, and the bows plunged under the 
 sea ; and with that, tlie 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, begun 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. They 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. 
 
 "Riach,"saidl. 
 
 "Ay," said Alan, " Riach ! Well, it was him that 
 took up the clubs for me, asked the men 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. ^^Ile has some spunks of decency." 
 
 " Well," said I, "he was kind to me in liis way." 
 
 "And so he was to Alan," said he; "and by my 
 troth, I found his Avay 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 the 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 were 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 there's a 
 strip of Campbells in that end of Mull, which is no good 
 company for a gentleman like me. If ii hadnae been for
 
 KIDNAPPED. 185 
 
 that I would haye waited and looked for ye mysel', let 
 alone giving a hand to the little man." (It was droll 
 how Alan dwelt on Mr. Kiach'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 clan 
 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 wei-e walking, and the eloatls, which 
 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 liouse 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 he'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 third, 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 that, Alan ; it's Appiu that must pay ; and I am a 
 man that 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. Tliough 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 niere 
 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. AVe'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. But presently the gloom 
 returned u^wn 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 feai", and whimj)ering 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 unmannerly 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 repeatedly.
 
 190 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 ** Are you gone gyte ? " * be 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 lianging, throwing her apron over her face and 
 gobbing out louder than before. 
 
 This was all Avretched for a stranger like myself to 
 hear and see ; and I was right glad wlien Alan returned, 
 looking 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 
 inal)ility to use the former ; and witli 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 liad no more than seven- 
 teen-pence to his whole fortune ; and as for James, it 
 
 * Mad.
 
 - KIDNAPPED. 191 
 
 appears he had hrought himself so low with journeys to 
 Edinburgh and legal expenses on behalf of the tenants, 
 that he could only scrape together three and fivepence 
 halfpenny ; 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, 
 " 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 tliat you liavo said, it will look very black 
 against the two of us ; do ye mark that ? Well, follow 
 me ont, and ye'U sec that I'll liave 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 ! He'll be papered anyway ; Mungo Campbell '11 
 be sure to paper him ; what matters if I paper 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." 
 
 *' I 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 hereditary foes on the bench and in the jiiry- 
 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 me " What the Camerons 
 13
 
 :'i 
 
 194 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 would tliink?*' (wliieh ag;iin confirmed mc, it must 
 have been a Cameron from Mamorc that did the act), 
 and if I did not see that the lad might be caught ? " Ye 
 havenae suiely thouglit of tliat ?"' said they, with such 
 innocent earnestness, tiiat my hands droi)ped at my 
 side, and I despaired of argument. 
 
 "Very well, then," said I, "paper mc, if you please, 
 ])aper 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 1 can be liel])ful 
 to friends of his, [ 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 
 
 c- -^ bounden duty," she said. " But for this lad that has 
 
 ^V come here and seen us at our worst, and seen the good- 
 
 o 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, 1 will keej) 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 tiie less and ran the more. 
 Though, upon its face, that country appeared to be a 
 desert, yet there were huts and houses of the people, 
 of which we 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 awliile 
 at the window with 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 iiearing 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 the 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 deadiy sickness of fear, 
 and I put my hand over my eyes. Alan took mc 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 Jiis face was red Avith anger, and 
 that he stamped u])on 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, whicli sent 
 the blood into my head again. Then, jnitting his hands 
 to his mouth and liis mouth to my ear he shouted 
 "Hang or Drown!" and turning liis back upon me, 
 leaped over the farther branch of the stream, and landed 
 safe. 
 
 I was now alone upon 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 f 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 1 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 
 (thtmgh you may say he iiad 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. 
 Jlven now we were on the rock he said nothing, nor ro
 
 200 KIDNAPPED, 
 
 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 cliff. 
 
 Then at last Alan smiled. 
 
 " Ay," said he, " now we have a chance ; " and then 
 looking at mo with some amusement, " Ye're no very 
 gleg* at the jumping," said he. 
 
 At this I suppose I coloured Avith 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. And 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 have 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 offered, if 
 he 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 here 
 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, ;ind signed to me 
 to do the like. 
 
 It wns now high day, cloudless, and very hot. The 
 valley was as clear as in a picture. Ahout half-a-niile 
 up the walcr was a camp of red-coats ; a big lire blazed 
 ill ih'Av 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 tiic riverside were posted other sen- 
 tries ; here near together, there widelier scattered ; some 
 planted like the first, on places of command, some on 
 the ground level, and marching and counter-marching, 
 so as to meet half way. Higher ui) the glen, Avhere the 
 ground was more open, the chain of jiostswas continued 
 by horse-soldiers, whom we could see in the distance 
 riding to and fro. Lower down, the infantry continued ; 
 l»ut 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 hour of dawn, bristling 
 with arms and dotted with the red-coats and breeches. 
 
 ''Ye see," said Alan, "this was what I was afraid 
 of, Davie : (hat 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 lis 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." 
 
 Tiiat 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 npon a girdle ; the sun beat upon us 
 cruelly ; the rock grew so heated, a man could scarce 
 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 worse than nothing ; but we kept 
 the bottle as cool as we could, burying it in the earth, 
 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 needle in a bottle of hay ; and 
 being so hopeless a task, it was gone about with the less 
 care. Yet we could 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 sjieech ; 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 Ransome ; 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 spciiking in the mouth of a grown 
 man ; and indeed I have never grown used with it ; nor 
 3'et altogether with the English 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 the 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 with 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. 
 
 in the shade, now making a run for it, lieart 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. AVhen we must jiass 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 l)y 
 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 ])nt 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 tliis, 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 
 us, or the greed with which we drank of it. 
 
 We lay there (for the banks hid ns), drank again and 
 again, bathed our chests, let our wrists trail in the 2"un- 
 niug water till they ached Avith 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 makiug 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 both paused : I struck with wonder 
 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 way 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 piues. The burn was full of trout ; the wood of 
 cushat-doves ; on the opening side of the mountain be- 
 yond, whaups 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-loch that 
 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 CoiTy- 
 
 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 lieather 
 14
 
 210 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 bushes wliich we cut for that purpose, aud covering our- 
 selves with Ahin'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 Iiands 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 ill 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 run me Ihrough 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, wliich
 
 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 m3"self. 
 
 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, uiid 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 ani no just so 
 sure of. Ye see, David, there will bo 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 otlierwise, 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, "1 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, 
 Jolin 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 landlord and 
 shares with him the increase.
 
 KIDNAPPED. 213 
 
 no word with it. So lie 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 iti 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 aud the 
 Forth." 
 
 *'And that is a very true word," says Alan. "But 
 then John Breck will see the sprig of birch and the 
 sprig of pine ; and he will say to himsel' (if he is a man 
 of any penetration at all, which I misdoubt), Alan will 
 be lying in a wood which is both of pines and birches. 
 Then he will think to himsel', 27i,at 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 
 would 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 wben 
 he came back ; for the dogs had barked and the I'olk 
 run out from their houses; and lie tliought he had 
 heard a clatter of arms and seen a red-coat come to one 
 of the doors. On all accounts, \vc lay the next 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 up the 
 open side of the mountain in the sun, and looking 
 round him as he came, from 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 (Avhich 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 ho 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 ; und that James and some 
 of his servants were already clapped in prison at Fort 
 AVilliam, under strong suspicion of comj)licity. 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 we 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 his finery so 
 fully remembered and set down ; only when he came to 
 the word tarnish, he looked upon his lace like one a 
 little mortified. As for myself, I thought I cut a 
 miserable figure in the bill, and yet was well enough 
 pleased too; for since T had changed these rags, the 
 description had 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 reflection 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 comi)auion. 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, ho 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 you 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.
 
 CIIArTER XXII. 
 
 THE FLIGHT IN THE HEATHER : THE MUIR. 
 
 More than eleven hours 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, "this 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 Queensfen-y, 
 nor yet for me, that wants to get to France. Well, 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 iiorses 
 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 peevvees 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 tlie rest broken up with bogs and 
 liags ;ui(l peaty pools ; some had been burnt black in u 
 heath-fire ; and in another j^lace 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. There 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 mucli 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 luid scarce closed my eyes before I was 
 shaken up to tako the second. AVe 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 thought 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 
 l)etrayed 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 heather. 
 
 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 before 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, we 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 posture of ruimmg 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, we 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. 225 
 
 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 
 of 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 >o came ; and his voice, when he 
 whispered his observations in my ear daring our halts, 
 sounded like nothing human. Yet he seemed in no way 
 dashed in spirits, nor did ho 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
 
 221) KIDNAITEI). 
 
 At this I begged tind 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 will keep 
 the crown of tlie muirland, and none will get out of 
 Ap})iTi but winged fowls. AVe got through in the nick 
 of time, and shall wo 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 Avant of will: it's the 
 strength that I Avant. 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 iiis top speed. 
 
 It grew 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 Avinter midday. IleaA^y 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 SAveetness of the
 
 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 227 
 
 night, the shapes of the hills like things asleep, and the 
 fire dwindling away behind ns, 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 what 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 despair — 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 would 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. 
 
 iL down again, like pcoplo lifting weights at a conn- 
 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 ; but 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 with these, 
 which are his out-sentries, till thej can get word to the 
 chief of my arrival." 
 
 Now Cluny Maci)herson, the chief of the clan 
 Vourich, 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 tliat desperate party. Even tired 
 as I was, the surprise of what I heard half wakened me. 
 
 " 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 Avrists, 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 KIDXAPPED. 
 
 That was all the rest I had, until the messenger re- 
 turned ; when, as it appeared that Cluny would be glad 
 to receive us, 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 n)y 
 mind, so that I could have Ave])t at my own helplessness. 
 
 I saw Alan knitting his brows at me, and supposed it 
 Avas 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 such 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.
 
 CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 cluny's cage. 
 
 We came at last to the foot of an exceeding 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 tiic 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 Qg,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
 
 232 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 persons witli some comfort. A projection of the cliff 
 Ir.id been cunningly employed to be the fireplace ; and 
 the smoke rising iigainst the face of the rock, and being 
 not dissimihir in colour, readily escaped notice from 
 below. 
 
 This was but one of Cluny's hiding-places ; he had 
 caves, Ijcsides, 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 i)ipe. 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 lie, "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 pn»iid to see ye, and to
 
 KIDNAPPED. 283 
 
 present to ye my friend tlic 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 lie 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 wc had a strange 
 host. In his long hiding, Cluny had grown to have all 
 manner of precise habits, like those of an old maid. He
 
 234 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 hud 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 
 col lops. 
 
 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 l)reak 
 out again laughing at the mere memory, hours after the 
 barber was gone. 
 
 To be sure, there might have been a purpose in his 
 questions ; for thougli 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 lingers 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, which was often enough, he gave
 
 KIDNAPPED. 235 
 
 his commands and breathed 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 bonnets 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 ho lay ; 
 and when the least of the ragged fellows Avhom 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 hixuries) 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 Chiny entertained us 
 with stories of Prince Charlie's stay in the Cage, giving 
 us the very words of the speakers and rising from his
 
 28G 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 ; 
 but 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. 
 
 Cluny stopped mingling the cards. ''What in deil's 
 name is this?'' says he. ''What kind of AVhiggish, 
 canting talk is this, for the house of Cluny Macpher- 
 son ?" 
 
 " I will put my hand in the fire for Mr. Balfour," 
 says Alan. " He is an honest and a meftJe 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, "1 am A'ery 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. 
 
 heaviness 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 ; ^et 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-gillio. 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 hick, 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 prescribed. The 
 sun was shining in at the open door of the Cage, and 
 this dazzled and ofPended 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 hud 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 sat
 
 '^■iO KIDNArPKD. 
 
 down outside in the to}) 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 T am as well 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," s;iys he, at last, " I've lost it ; there's l\u] 
 naked truth." 
 
 " My money, too ? " said I.
 
 KIDNAPPED. . 241 
 
 " Your money, too," says Alan, with a groan. " Yc 
 sliouldnae have given it me. I'm daft when I get to the 
 cartes. " 
 
 "Hoot-toot, hoot-toot," said Cluny. "It was all 
 daffing ; it's all nonsense. Of course, ye'll have your 
 money back again, and the double of it, if ye'll make so* 
 fiee with me. It would be a singular thing for me to 
 keep it. It's not to be su})posed that I would be any 
 hindrance to gentlemen in your situation ; that would 
 be a singular thing ! " cries he, 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 very 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 my friends to the 
 cartes, when I can get them ? And if they lose, of 
 
 course, it's not to be suj)posed " And here he came 
 
 to a pause. 
 
 "Yes," said I, "if they lose, you give them back 
 
 tlieir money ; and if they win, they carry away yours in 
 
 their pouches ! I have said before that I grant your 
 16
 
 2 12 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 generosity; but to mc, 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 mc all over with a warlike eye, 
 and I saw the challenge at his lips. Ikit either my 
 youth disarmed him, or perhaps his own sense of jus- 
 tice. Certainly, it was a mortifying matter for all con-
 
 KIDNAPPED. 243 
 
 cerned, and not least for Cliiny ; 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 QUARREL. 
 
 Alan and I were put across Loch Errocht under 
 cloud of night, and went down its eastern shore to 
 another hiding-place 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 ; tra Addling, 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 had lost money, angry 
 that I should take it so ill. 
 
 The thought of a sepai'ation 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, AVheedling 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 
 blitiie 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 trembling voice, "bnt 
 when I say I was to blame ? " 
 
 "Why, of course, ye were to l)lanio," 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 me 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 ; l)ut 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 that," 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 wms 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 caunae 
 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 Avuy of it, it Avas you that was to blame ; then it 
 shouhliiae 1)0 you to seek the quarrel." 
 
 *'Aweel," said Alan, ''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 Rannoch 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 wliich 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 Avay at last, but with only luilf a heart. 
 *' It's one of the dowiest countries in Scotland," said he. 
 "There's naething there that I ken, but heatii, and
 
 KIDNAPPED. 249 
 
 crows, and Campbells. But I see that ye're 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 
 npon, and not once cheered by any glimpse of sunshine. 
 By day, we lay and slept in the drenching heather ; by 
 night, incessantly clambered upon breakneck hills and 
 among rnde crags. We often wandered ; we were often 
 so involved in fog, that we mnst 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 throat, 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 
 would 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 s})rings 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, who 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 he 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 dis])osition 
 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, bnt always ready to help, and 
 always hoping (as I could very well see) that my dis- 
 pleasure 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 rather 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 Rannoch. 
 
 *' 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 jiatient 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 aifair 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 Bakjuidder. It came clear and
 
 252 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 cold, with a toucli in the air like frost, and a northerly 
 wind that blow 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 wa.s 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. 
 "AVhig" was the best name he had to give me. 
 ''Here," he would say, "here's a dub for ye to jump, 
 my Whiggie ! 1 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 i-opent. 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, when I was dead, how 
 much lie 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 I" thinks I to myself, "I have a better 
 taunt in readiness ; when I lie dov,^n and die, you will 
 feel it like a buffet in j'our face ; ah, what a revenge ! 
 ah, how you will regret your ingratitude and cruelty ! " 
 
 All the while, 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 the 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 eitber 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 bad stopped opposite to me, his hat cocked, his
 
 251: KIDNAPPED. 
 
 hands in liis breeches pockets, his liciid a little to one 
 side. He listened, smiling evilly, as I could see by the 
 starlight ; and when I had done lie began to whistle a 
 Jacobite air. It was the air made in mockery of General 
 Cope's defeat at Preston Pans : — 
 
 " Ilcy, Johnnie Cope, are ye waiikin' yet ? 
 And are your drums a-beatin" yet ? " 
 
 And it came in my mind that Alan, on the day of that 
 battle, had been engaged upon tlie royal side. 
 
 "Why do ye take tlitit air, Mr. Stewart?" said I. 
 " Is that to remind me vou have been beaten on both 
 sides ? " 
 
 The air stopped on Alan's lijis. " 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 arc 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. 265 
 
 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 ni}' anger oozed all out of rae •, and 
 I found myself only sick, and sorr}% 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, how 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 luid 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 logs have boon 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'U 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. 
 Gnde 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 
 coulduae see ye were dying on your feet ; Davie, ye'U 
 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 tiling," cried Alan, with a start. 
 17
 
 258 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 " There may be a trifling matter of an inch or two ; I'm 
 no saying I'm jnst 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 ! "
 
 CHAPTEE XXV. 
 
 I]Sr BALQITIDDER, 
 
 At the door of the first house we came to, Alan 
 knocked, which was no very safe enterprise in such a 
 part of the Highlands as the Braes of Balquidder. IS^o 
 great clan held rule there ; it was filled and disputed hy 
 small septs, and broken remnants, and what they call 
 ''chiefless folk," driven into the wild country about tlio 
 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 Eoy's eldest son, lay waiting 
 his trial in Edinburgh Castle ; they were in ill-blood 
 with Highlander and Lowlander, with the Grrahames, 
 the Maclarens and the Stewarts ; and Alan, who took 
 up the quarrel of any friend, however distant, was ex- 
 tremely wishful to avoid them.
 
 2fiO KIDNAPPED. 
 
 Chance served us very well ; for it was a household 
 of Maclarens 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 Alan 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 Dim 
 (which was the name of our host) had a pair 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 in
 
 KIDNAPPED. • 261 
 
 that time of excitement, I was as free of all inquiry as 
 though 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 ])ortrait 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 company, 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 tiie world, and above 
 all about that time, that they could fail to put one 
 thing Avitli 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 Eobin 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 
 Machircn at the plough stilts, a quarrel never satisfied ; 
 yet he walked into the house of his blood enemies as a 
 rider miglit 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 with a great show of civility, but like 
 a man among inferiors ; took off iiis 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 mc David Balfour," said 1, "at your 
 service." 
 
 "I would give ye my name in return, sir," lie 
 replied, "but it's one somewhat blown upon of late 
 days ; and it'll perhaps suffice 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 
 fatlier, 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 having had an outlaw to his father. 
 
 He bowed in return. " But what I am come 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 toAvards 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.
 
 26-4 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 Just in tlie door, he 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 Robin. 
 
 " Troth, Mr. Macgregor, 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, Ardsliiel, 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 Robin. ''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 case of now or never ; and Duncan, 
 with sometliing of a white face to be sure, thrust him- 
 self between. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said he, " I will have been thinking 
 of a very different matter, Avhateffer. Here are my 
 pipes, and here are you two gentlemen who are baith 
 acclaimed pipers. It's an auld dispute -which one of 
 ye's the best. Here will be a braw chance to settle it." 
 
 " Why, sir," said Alan, still addressing Robin, from 
 whom indeed he had not so much as shifted his eves, 
 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 honey 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 
 Kobiu. " Eat and drink ; I'll 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 Robin, " 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 
 aifront. "Enough !" he cried. "Ye can blow the
 
 268 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 pipes — make the most of that." And he made as if 
 to rise. 
 
 But Robin only lield out his hand jis 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, befoi'c 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 hanged 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 FORTH. 
 
 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, ' Fortli 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 we 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 the 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 si't 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 chance forfeited. 
 
 "This '11 never do," said Alan. "This '11 never, 
 never do for us, David." 
 
 And without anotiier 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. Rankeillor'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. 
 
 "Well," 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. 
 
 *'0u, just upon the chance !" said he. "If we can- 
 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 me set mj 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 
 waterside, 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 hands. 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 wealth awaited me ; 
 and here was I upon tlie north, clad in poor enough 
 attire of an outlandish fashion, with three silver shil- 
 lings left to me of all my fortune, a price set upon my 
 head, and an outlawed man for my sole company. 
 
 ''0, Alan! "said I, 'Uo 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 })lease 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 vvitii 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 T, "and a bonny lass she was." 
 
 "Ye thought that ? " cries he. " Man D;ivid, 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'll 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 perhaps 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. 
 
 speedy return ; but Alan had no words 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 brea*' and cheese helped me to eat it 
 like a nursery-lass ; the whole with that grave, con- 
 cerned, affectionate c< mtenance, that might have im- 
 posed upon a judge. It was small wonder if the maid 
 were taken witb 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 mere 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, nieuuiiig that I was 
 old enougii 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 in 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 scra])e 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 tooii 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." 
 
 " 1 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— 1 give you my naked 
 word, I kenna ! Sliall 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 determined 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 Queensferry ? " 
 
 " 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. 
 Kankeillor 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 
 can 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. 
 
 had 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. Only 
 Ahm stood a great while upon the shore shaking his 
 head. 
 
 "It is a very fine lass," he said at last. " David, it 
 is a very fine lass.*' And a matter of an hour later, as 
 we were lying in a den on the seashore and I had been 
 already dozing, he broke out again in commendations of 
 her character. For my part, I could say nothing, she 
 was so simple a creature that my heart smote me both 
 with remorse and fear ; i-emorse, because we had traded 
 upon her ignorance ; and fear, lest we sliould 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; 
 but 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 staud upon ; and no clear proof of my rights, 
 nor so much as of my own identity. If it was all a 
 bubble, 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 
 pocket, 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 despair. 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 honse 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 dumb 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 Queeusferry on business, 
 and taking heart of grace, asked him to direct me to the 
 house of Mr. Rankeillor. 
 
 'MVhy," said he, " that is his house that I have just 
 come out of ; and for a rather singular chance, I am 
 that very 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, 
 
 * Newlv routrli east.
 
 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. 
 ISlec germino helium Trojanum orditur ah ovo — do you 
 understand that ? " says 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
 
 1290 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 13ut 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 tiie 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." 
 j / '''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. 
 " 1 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 v^e 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. 
 Kankeillor, 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. Fui, 
 non sum. I w«s indeed your uncle's man of business ; 
 but while you [imherMs 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 yon 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 afEord 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 beyond 
 a doubt ; so that first point of my identity seemed fully 
 granted.
 
 294 Kl PNAPPED. 
 
 "Sir/" said I, "if I Icll you my story, I must com- 
 mit a friend's life to yonr 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 heiiring, 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 
 mav 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 kii):napped. 
 
 for my part I prefer the stronger tongne. Yon have 
 rolled mnch ; qum regio in terris — uiiat 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 tlicin. 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 were 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 fig it, 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 migiity 
 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. 
 
 T GO IlSr QUEST OF MY INHERITANCE. 
 
 Here I made what change I could in mj 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. Rankcillor 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." 
 
 " Tiiily," 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 their 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 bellus cs, 
 SabelU:' 
 
 *'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 jjromise 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 muitum 
 gemetis ; 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 when 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 hoth 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 liand 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 
 dignus vindice nodus ; and this piece of work was all 
 about the 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 was, 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 tlie 
 meanwhile, what a time it has been for the poor tenants
 
 KIDNAPPED. 301 
 
 on the estate of Shaws ! 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. Eankeillor. "And yet I imagine 
 it was natural enough. He could 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 nothing 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 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 prove it. But it may be difficult 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 ond*e 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 vour scheme is
 
 KIDNAPPED. 303 
 
 inadmissible. I say nothing against your friend Mr. 
 Thomson ; I know nothing against him, and if I did — 
 mark tliis, 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. Eankeillor ; 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 uj^on 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 set 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 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 be so kind as put on your h;it 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 
 1, 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 what held me all the afternoon in wonder, he 
 kept returning and dwelling on this story, and telling it 
 again with fresh details and laughtei' ; 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 bohind with the deed in his 
 pocket and a covered basket iu 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 sec 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 purpose, 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. Eankeillor 
 changed the order of march, walking behind with 
 Torrance and sending me forward in the manner of a 
 scout. I w^ent 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 Mi". Eankeillor, 
 who came up alone and was presented to my friend, Mr. 
 Thomson.
 
 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 307 
 
 " Mr. Thomson, I am 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 here 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 Kankeillor, heartily. " And now as you and 
 I are the chief actors in this enterprise, I 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
 
 308 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 and began 
 to knock.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 I COME INTO MY KINGDOM. 
 
 For 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. 
 
 " VVhaf, brings ye here ? and whae are ye ?" says my 
 nncle, angrily. 
 
 " I have no manner of inclination to rowt out my 
 name to the countryside," said Alan ; " but wluit brings 
 me here is another story, being more of your affairs than 
 mine ; and if ye'rc 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 ont 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,^ 'Uo 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 clapped 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
 
 312 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 cannae 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. ^1^ 
 
 nane, I am clearly of opinion they would let him gang 
 where he 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." 
 
 "I 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 pay 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." 
 
 - 1 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. - 1 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 teet.
 
 31-1 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 " give Die 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 
 tbat wild talk, it's fair disrepitable. Vitals, says you ! 
 and where would I be with my blundcrbush ? " he snarled. 
 
 " Powder and your aiild 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'U 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. ^^^ 
 
 ing the lad'U be a fashions* job, a fashions, kittle bnsi- 
 
 ness 
 
 -I'll have him keepit, thongh," retnrned my nncle. 
 -I never had naething to do with anything morally 
 wrong ; and I'm no gann to begin to pleasure a wild 
 
 Hielaudman." 
 
 '' Ye're unco scrupulous," sneered Alan. 
 
 -I'm a man o' principle," said Ebenezer simply; 
 -and if I have to pay for H, 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 off- 
 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, ve donnercd iiuld runt, how else would I 
 ken ?" cried Alan. '• Hoseason 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 ; jind 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, "1 dinnae 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, "Good 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 tlie doorstep, led him into 
 the kitchen, whither we all followed, and set him down
 
 KIDNAPPED. ^1' 
 
 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 artfully conducted ; but in one point you 
 somewhat outran my comprehension. Do I understand 
 yoar 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 Rankeillor ; "and as there has never yet been a 
 Kin- 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 stept off to tlie far end of the 
 kitchen, and sat down and snlked ; and it was not till I 
 stepped 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 
 Rankeillor as to his intromissions, and to pay me two 
 clear thirds of tlie yearly income. 
 
 So the beggar in the 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 Rankeillor slept and snored on their 
 hard beds ; but for me, who had lain out under heaven 
 and upon dirt and stones, so many days and nights, and 
 often with an empty belly, and in fear of death, tiiis 
 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 Kankeillor 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 doubtlessari^^xcglentuohlema ^ hut, Mr. 
 * The Duke of Argyll.
 
 320 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 David, timeo qui 7iocere deos. If you interfere to baulk 
 his vengeance, you should remember there is one way to 
 sluit 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 worse things in the world than 
 to be hanged.'' 
 
 "Not many, sir," said I, smiling. 
 
 "Why, yes, sir," lie 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 he, "is to my bankers, the British 
 Linen Company, placing a credit to your name. Con- 
 sult Mr. Thomson ; he will know of ways ; and you, 
 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 you 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 fatiiers. 
 21
 
 322 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 It stood there, bare iiiul great aifd 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 burrow. 
 I had little welcome when I came, and less kindness 
 while I sta3^ed ; but at least I was watched as I wont 
 away. 
 
 In the meanwhile Alan and I went slowly forward 
 upou our way, having little heart either to walk or 
 speak. The saiue thought was uppermost in l)oth, tliat 
 we were near the time of our parting ; and remembrance 
 of all the bygone days sate upon us sorely. AVo talked 
 indeed of what should bo done ; and it was resolved that 
 Alan should keep to the county, biding now hero, now 
 there, but coming once in a day to a particular place 
 where I might be able to communicate 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 sock 
 lo 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 wore nearer tears than 
 laughter. 
 
 We came the b3'-way over the hill of Corstorphine; 
 and when we got near to the place called Rest-and-be-
 
 KIDXAPPED. 323 
 
 Thankfiil, 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 ^ravs 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 Eankeillor's), so that 
 lie should not starve in tlic 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 arched entries that 
 continually vomited passengers, the wares of the mer- 
 chants in their windows, the hubbub and endless stir, 
 the foul smells and the fine clothes, and a hundred other
 
 324 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 piirticiilars 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 tlie time what I was thinking 
 of was Alan at Kest-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 Conipan^^'s bank. 
 
 [Just there, with his hand upon his fortune, the 
 present editor inclines for the time to say farewell to 
 David. ITow 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 
 kindness 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 com])lain 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.] 
 
 END.
 
 '^ Fresh and delightful.''' — New York Evening Post. 
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES 
 
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 — N. Y. Tribune. 
 
 The Late Mrs. Null. 
 
 By FRANK R. STOCKTON. 
 
 One Volume, 12tno. Cloth. $1.50. 
 
 "The Late Mrs. Null" is one of those fortunate books that 
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 ,'*V^., 
 
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 THE LADY, OR THE TIGER? 
 
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 The Tkansfekred Ghost. Mk. Tol.man. 
 
 The Si'ECTRAL Mortuaoe. On the Training of Parents. 
 
 Our Archery Cli b. Our Fike-screen. 
 
 That Same Old 'Coon. A Piece ok Red Calico. 
 
 His Wife's Deceased Sister. Every Man His Own Letter-write^ 
 
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 ^ FAIR BARBARIAN. 
 
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 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 
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 fiction. 
 
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 " She discovert gracious secrets in rough a7id forbidding 
 natures- the sweetness that often underlies their 
 
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 character. If -we apprehend her personages, and I think 
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 THE LAST MEETING. 
 
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 '1 he scene is laid in New York. 
 
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 WITHIN THE CAPES. 
 
 By HOWARD PYLE, 
 
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 SCRTBNER'S NEW DOLLAR NOVELS. 
 
 A WHEEL OF FIRE. 
 
 By ARLO BATES. 
 
 1 ■ e-. iinimuallv Strong in its conception that it makes a 
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 ROSES OF SHADOW. 
 
 By T. K. SULLIVAN. 
 
 ■ \ ^( n. tvnp of novel that has been growing rare. A 
 
 .'The characters of the story have a remarkable vividness and md.v.d- 
 
 ( ,h.m which mark at once Mr. Sullivan's strongest 
 ual.ty-every one o them->.hich mar^^ ^^^ ^^^^_^ ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 ^ZtluiyroTerlhtgr-iml-y ^atictic old beau, sometimes reminds us of a 
 .ouch of Thackeray. "-a««-««a// Ttmes-S^ar. 
 
 ACROSS THE CHASM. 
 
 ^ STORY OF NORTH AND SOUTH. 
 
 A novel full of spirit a^dwit ^^^^^f " ^^SS^Si^r^^^!:; 
 
 .. A story which will at once attract readers by its original and stnkmg 
 ^^lities."— Journal of Commerce, N. Y.
 
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 pages, wlien Louis and Margaret meet and peace is made. It is a little idyl 
 
 of its kind 'Across the Chasm ' not being an impalpable story, 
 
 but having a live young woman and a live man in its pages, deserves hearty 
 commendation." — A'. Y. Timts. 
 
 A DESPERATE CHANCE. 
 
 By Lieut. J. D.J. KELLEY, U.S.N. 
 
 "A Desperate Chance" is as absorbing as only a novel can be when told 
 with the vcrz'e 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." — N^ew 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 mysterj', 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." — 
 B'ooklyn 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. JANyiEK (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 ameng 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 ulots are full o/ 
 humor and originality," — Boston Traveler. 
 
 Charles Scribner's Sons. 
 
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 ^EC'D LDuRLThis book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
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