by J. M. Barrie
Chapter Six.
IN WHICH THE SOLDIERS MEET THE AMAZONS OF THRUMS.
Dow looked shamefacedly at the minister, and then set off up thesquare.
"Where are you going, Rob?"
"To gie myself up. I maun do something to let you see there's one manin Thrums that has mair faith in you than in a fliskmahoy."
"And only one, Rob. But I don't know that they want to arrest you."
"Ay, I had a hand in tying the polissman to the----"
"I want to hear nothing about that," Gavin said, quickly.
"Will I hide, then?"
"I dare not advise you to do that. It would be wrong."
Half a score of fugitives tore past the town-house, and were out ofsight without a cry. There was a tread of heavier feet, and a dozensoldiers, with several policemen and two prisoners, appeared suddenlyon the north side of the square.
"Rob," cried the minister in desperation, "run!"
When the soldiers reached the town-house, where they locked up theirprisoners, Dow was skulking eastward, and Gavin running down thebrae.
"They're fechting," he was told, "they're fechting on the brae, thesojers is firing, a man's killed!"
But this was an exaggeration.
The brae, though short, is very steep. There is a hedge on one side ofit, from which the land falls away, and on the other side a hillock.Gavin reached the scene to see the soldiers marching down the brae,guarding a small body of policemen. The armed weavers were retreatingbefore them. A hundred women or more were on the hillock, shriekingand gesticulating. Gavin joined them, calling on them not to fling thestones they had begun to gather.
The armed men broke into a rabble, flung down their weapons, and fledback towards the town-house. Here they almost ran against the soldiersin the square, who again forced them into the brae. Finding themselvesabout to be wedged between the two forces, some crawled through thehedge, where they were instantly seized by policemen. Others sought toclimb up the hillock and then escape into the country. The policemenclambered after them. The men were too frightened to fight, but awoman seized a policeman by the waist and flung him head foremostamong the soldiers. One of these shouted "Fire!" but the captain cried"No." Then came showers of missiles from the women. They stood theirground and defended the retreat of the scared men.
Who flung the first stone is not known, but it is believed to havebeen the Egyptian. The policemen were recalled, and the whole bodyordered to advance down the brae. Thus the weavers who had not escapedat once were driven before them, and soon hemmed in between the twobodies of soldiers, when they were easily captured. But for twominutes there was a thick shower of stones and clods of earth.
It was ever afterwards painful to Gavin to recall this scene, but lesson account of the shower of stones than because of the flight of onedivit in it. He had been watching the handsome young captain,Halliwell, riding with his men; admiring him, too, for his coolness.This coolness exasperated the gypsy, who twice flung at Halliwell andmissed him. He rode on smiling contemptuously.
"Oh, if I could only fling straight!" the Egyptian moaned.
Then she saw the minister by her side, and in the tick of a clocksomething happened that can never be explained. For the moment Gavinwas so lost in misery over the probable effect of the night's riotingthat he had forgotten where he was. Suddenly the Egyptian's beautifulface was close to his, and she pressed a divit into his hand, at thesame time pointing at the officer, and whispering "Hit him."
Gavin flung the clod of earth, and hit Halliwell on the head.
I say I cannot explain this. I tell what happened, and add withthankfulness that only the Egyptian witnessed the deed. Gavin, Isuppose, had flung the divit before he could stay his hand. Then heshrank in horror.
"Woman!" he cried again.
"You are a dear," she said, and vanished.
By the time Gavin was breathing freely again the lock-up was crammedwith prisoners, and the Riot Act had been read from the town-housestair. It is still remembered that the baron-bailie, to whom this dutyfell, had got no further than, "Victoria, by the Grace of God," whenthe paper was struck out of his hands.
When a stirring event occurs up here we smack our lips over it formonths, and so I could still write a history of that memorable nightin Thrums. I could tell how the doctor, a man whose shoulders oftenlooked as if they had been caught in a shower of tobacco ash, broughtme the news to the school-house, and now, when I crossed the fields todumfounder Waster Lunny with it, I found Birse, the post, reeling offthe story to him as fast as a fisher could let out line. I know whowas the first woman on the Marywell brae to hear the horn, and how shewoke her husband, and who heard it first at the Denhead and theTenements, with what they immediately said and did. I had from DiteDeuchar's own lips the curious story of his sleeping placidlythroughout the whole disturbance, and on wakening in the morningyoking to his loom as usual; and also his statement that such ill-luckwas enough to shake a man's faith in religion. The police hadknowledge that enabled them to go straight to the houses of theweavers wanted, but they sometimes brought away the wrong man, forsuch of the people as did not escape from the town had swopped housesfor the night--a trick that served them better than all their drillingon the hill. Old Yuill's son escaped by burying himself in apeat-rick, and Snecky Hobart by pretending that he was a sack ofpotatoes. Less fortunate was Sanders Webster, the mole-catcher alreadymentioned. Sanders was really an innocent man. He had not even been inThrums on the night of the rising against the manufacturers, butthinking that the outbreak was to be left unpunished, he wanted hisshare in the glory of it. So he had boasted of being a ringleaderuntil many believed him, including the authorities. His braggadocioundid him. He was run to earth in a pig-sty, and got nine months. Withthe other arrests I need not concern myself, for they have no part inthe story of the little minister.
While Gavin was with the families whose breadwinners were now in thelock-up, a cell that was usually crammed on fair nights and empty forthe rest of the year, the sheriff and Halliwell were in the round-roomof the town-house, not in a good temper. They spoke loudly, and someof their words sank into the cell below.
"The whole thing has been a fiasco," the sheriff was heard saying,"owing to our failing to take them by surprise. Why, three-fourths ofthose taken will have to be liberated, and we have let the worstoffenders slip through our hands."
"Well," answered Halliwell, who was wearing a heavy cloak, "I havebrought your policemen into the place, and that is all I undertook todo."
"You brought them, but at the expense of alarming the countryside. Iwish we had come without you."
"Nonsense! My men advanced like ghosts. Could your police have comedown that brae alone to-night?"
"Yes, because it would have been deserted. Your soldiers, I tell you,have done the mischief. This woman, who, so many of our prisonersadmit, brought the news of our coming, must either have got it fromone of your men or have seen them on the march."
"The men did not know their destination. True, she might have seen usdespite our precautions, but you forget that she told them how we wereto act in the event of our being seen. That is what perplexes me."
"Yes, and me too, for it was a close secret between you and me andLord Rintoul and not half-a-dozen others."
"Well, find the woman, and we shall get the explanation. If she isstill in the town she cannot escape, for my men are everywhere."
"She was seen ten minutes ago."
"Then she is ours. I say, Riach, if I were you I would set all myprisoners free and take away a cart-load of their wives instead. Ihave only seen the backs of the men of Thrums, but, on my word, I verynearly ran away from the women. Hallo! I believe one of your policehas caught our virago single-handed."
So Halliwell exclaimed, hearing some one shout, "This is the rascal!"But it was not the Egyptian who was then thrust into the round-room.It was John Dunwoodie, looking very sly. Probably there was not, evenin Thrums, a cannier man than Dunwoodie. His religious views w
erethose of Cruickshanks, but he went regularly to church "on theoff-chance of there being a God after all; so I'm safe, whatever sidemay be wrong."
"This is the man," explained a policeman, "who brought the alarm. Headmits himself having been in Tilliedrum just before we started."
"Your name, my man?" the sheriff demanded.
"It micht be John Dunwoodie," the tinsmith answered cautiously.
"But is it?"
"I dinna say it's no."
"You were in Tilliedrum this evening?"
"I micht hae been."
"Were you?"
"I'll swear to nothing."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm a canny man."
"Into the cell with him," Halliwell cried, losing patience.
"Leave him to me," said the sheriff. "I understand the sort of man.Now, Dunwoodie, what were you doing in Tilliedrum?"
"I was taking my laddie down to be prenticed to a writer there,"answered Dunwoodie, falling into the sheriff's net.
"What are you yourself?"
"I micht be a tinsmith to trade."
"And you, a mere tinsmith, dare to tell me that a lawyer was willingto take your son into his office? Be cautious, Dunwoodie."
"Weel, then, the laddie's highly edicated and I hae siller, and that'show the writer was to take him and make a gentleman o' him."
"I learn from the neighbours," the policeman explained, "that this ispartly true, but what makes us suspect him is this. He left the laddieat Tilliedrum, and yet when he came home the first person he sees atthe fireside is the laddie himself. The laddie had run home, and thereason plainly was that he had heard of our preparations and wanted toalarm the town."
"There seems something in this, Dunwoodie," the sheriff said, "and ifyou cannot explain it I must keep you in custody."
"I'll make a clean breast o't," Dunwoodie replied, seeing that in thismatter truth was best. "The laddie was terrible against being made agentleman, and when he saw the kind o' life he would hae to lead,clean hands, clean dickies, and no gutters on his breeks, his hearttook mair scunner at genteelity than ever, and he ran hame. Ay, I wasmad when I saw him at the fireside, but he says to me, 'How would youlike to be a gentleman yoursel', father?' he says, and that soaffected me 'at I'm to gie him his ain way."
Another prisoner, Dave Langlands, was confronted with Dunwoodie.
"John Dunwoodie's as innocent as I am mysel," Dave said, "and I'm mostmichty innocent. It wasna John but the Egyptian that gave the alarm. Itell you what, sheriff, if it'll make me innocenter-like I'll picturethe Egyptian to you just as I saw her, and syne you'll be able tocatch her easier."
"You are an honest fellow," said the sheriff.
"I only wish I had the whipping of him," growled Halliwell, who was ofa generous nature.
"For what business had she," continued Dave righteously, "to meddle inother folks' business? She's no a Thrums lassie, and so I say, 'Letthe law take its course on her.'"
"Will you listen to such a cur, Riach?" asked Halliwell.
"Certainly. Speak out, Langlands."
"Weel, then, I was in the windmill the nicht."
"You were a watcher?"
"I happened to be in the windmill wi' another man," Dave went on,avoiding the officer's question.
"What was his name?" demanded Halliwell.
"It was the Egyptian I was to tell you about," Dave said, looking tothe sheriff.
"Ah, yes, you only tell tales about women," said Halliwell.
"Strange women," corrected Dave. "Weel, we was there, and it wouldmaybe be twal o'clock, and we was speaking (but about lawful things)when we heard some ane running yont the road. I keeked through a holein the door, and I saw it was an Egyptian lassie 'at I had neverclapped een on afore. She saw the licht in the window, and she cried,'Hie, you billies in the windmill, the sojers is coming!' I fell in africht, but the other man opened the door, and again she cries, 'Thesojers is coming; quick, or you'll be ta'en.' At that the other man upwi' his bonnet and ran, but I didna make off so smart."
"You had to pick yourself up first," suggested the officer.
"Sal, it was the lassie picked me up; ay, and she picked up a horn atthe same time."
"'Blaw on that,' she cried, 'and alarm the town.' But, sheriff, Ididna do't. Na, I had ower muckle respect for the law."
"In other words," said Halliwell, "you also bolted, and left the gypsyto blow the horn herself."
"I dinna deny but what I made my feet my friend, but it wasna her thatblew the horn. I ken that, for I looked back and saw her trying todo't, but she couldna, she didna ken the way."
"Then who did blow it?"
"The first man she met, I suppose. We a' kent that the horn was to bethe signal except Wearywarld. He's police, so we kept it frae him."
"That is all you saw of the woman?"
"Ay, for I ran straucht to my garret, and there your men took me. CanI gae hame now, sheriff?"
"No, you cannot. Describe the woman's appearance."
"She had a heap o' rowan berries stuck in her hair, and, I think, shehad on a green wrapper and a red shawl. She had a most extraordinaryface. I canna exact describe it, for she would be lauchin' one secondand syne solemn the next. I tell you her face changed as quick as youcould turn the pages o' a book. Ay, here comes Wearywarld to speak upfor me."
Wearyworld entered cheerfully.
"This is the local policeman," a Tilliedrum officer said; "we havebeen searching for him everywhere, and only found him now."
"Where have you been?" asked the sheriff, wrathfully.
"Whaur maist honest men is at this hour," replied Wearyworld; "in mybed."
"How dared you ignore your duty at such a time?"
"It's a long story," the policeman answered, pleasantly, inanticipation of a talk at last.
"Answer me in a word."
"In a word!" cried the policeman, quite crestfallen. "It canna bedone. You'll need to cross-examine me, too. It's my lawful richt."
"I'll take you to the Tilliedrum gaol for your share in this night'swork if you do not speak to the purpose. Why did you not hasten to ourassistance?"
"As sure as death I never kent you was here. I was up the Roods on myrounds when I heard an awfu' din down in the square, and thinks I,there's rough characters about, and the place for honest folk is theirbed. So to my bed I gaed, and I was in't when your men gripped me."
"We must see into this before we leave. In the meantime you will actas a guide to my searchers. Stop! Do you know anything of thisEgyptian?"
"What Egyptian? Is't a lassie wi' rowans in her hair?"
THE EGYPTIAN.]
"The same. Have you seen her?"
"That I have. There's nothing agin her, is there? Whatever it is, I'lluphaud she didna do't, for a simpler, franker-spoken crittur couldnabe."
"Never mind what I want her for. When did you see her?"
"It would be about twal o'clock," began Wearyworld unctuously, "when Iwas in the Roods, ay, no lang afore I heard the disturbance in thesquare. I was standing in the middle o' the road, wondering how thedoor o' the windmill was swinging open, when she came up to me.
"'A fine nicht for the time o' year,' I says to her, for nobody butthe minister had spoken to me a' day.
"'A very fine nicht,' says she, very frank, though she was breathingquick like as if she had been running. 'You'll be police?' says she.
"'I am,' says I, 'and wha be you?'
"'I'm just a puir gypsy lassie,' she says.
"'And what's that in your hand?' says I.
"'It's a horn I found in the wood,' says she, 'but it's rusty andwinna blaw.'
"I laughed at her ignorance, and says I, 'I warrant I could blaw it.'
"'I dinna believe you,' says she.
"'Gie me haud o't,' says I, and she gae it to me, and I blew somebonny blasts on't. Ay, you see she didna ken the way o't. 'Thank youkindly,' says she, and she ran awa without even minding to take thehorn back again."
"You incredible idiot!"
cried the sheriff. "Then it was you who gavethe alarm?"
"What hae I done to madden you?" honest Wearyworld asked inperplexity.
"Get out of my sight, sir!" roared the sheriff.
But the captain laughed.
"I like your doughty policeman, Riach," he said. "Hie, obligingfriend, let us hear how this gypsy struck you. How was she dressed?"
"She was snod, but no unca snod," replied Wearyworld, stiffly.
"I don't understand you."
"I mean she was couthie, but no sair in order."
"What on earth is that?"
"Weel, a tasty stocky, but gey orra put on."
"What language are you speaking, you enigma?"
"I'm saying she was naturally a bonny bit kimmer rather than happit upto the nines."
"Oh, go away," cried Halliwell; whereupon Wearyworld descended thestair haughtily, declaring that the sheriff was an unreasonable man,and that he was a queer captain who did not understand the Englishlanguage.
"Can I gae hame now, sheriff?" asked Langlands, hopefully.
"Take this fellow back to his cell," Riach directed shortly, "andwhatever else you do, see that you capture this woman. Halliwell, I amgoing out to look for her myself. Confound it, what are you laughingat?"
"At the way this vixen has slipped through your fingers."
"Not quite that, sir, not quite that. She is in Thrums still, and Iswear I'll have her before day breaks. See to it, Halliwell, that ifshe is brought here in my absence she does not slip through yourfingers."
"If she is brought here," said Halliwell, mocking him, "you mustreturn and protect me. It would be cruelty to leave a poor soldier inthe hands of a woman of Thrums."
"She is not a Thrums woman. You have been told so a dozen times."
"Then I am not afraid."
In the round-room (which is oblong) there is a throne on which thebailie sits when he dispenses justice. It is swathed in red clothsthat give it the appearance of a pulpit. Left to himself, Halliwellflung off his cloak and taking a chair near this dais rested his legson the bare wooden table, one on each side of the lamp. He was stillin this position when the door opened, and two policemen thrust theEgyptian into the room.
