CHAPTER XIX
THE HOUSE OF FEAR
Night fell as we were walking, and the clouds, which had broken up inthe afternoon, settled in and thickened, so that it fell, for theseason of the year, extremely dark. The way we went was over roughmountainsides; and though Alan pushed on with an assured manner, I couldby no means see how he directed himself.
At last, about half-past ten of the clock, we came to the top of a brae,and saw lights below us. It seemed a house door stood open and let out abeam of fire and candle-light; and all round the house and steadingfive or six persons were moving hurriedly about, each carrying a lightedbrand.
"James must have tint his wits," said Alan. "If this was the soldiersinstead of you and me, he would be in a bonny mess. But I dare say he'llhave a sentry on the road, and he would ken well enough no soldierswould find the way that we came."
Hereupon he whistled three times, in a particular manner. It was strangeto see how, at the first sound of it, all the moving torches came toa stand, as if the bearers were affrighted; and how, at the third, thebustle began again as before.
Having thus set folks' minds at rest, we came down the brae, and weremet at the yard gate (for this place was like a well-doing farm) bya tall, handsome man of more than fifty, who cried out to Alan in theGaelic.
"James Stewart," said Alan, "I will ask ye to speak in Scotch, for hereis 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 theLowlands, and a laird in his country too, but I am thinking it will bethe 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 courteouslyenough; the next he had turned to Alan.
"This has been a dreadful accident," he cried. "It will bring trouble onthe country." And he wrung his hands.
"Hoots!" said Alan, "ye must take the sour with the sweet, man. ColinRoy is dead, and be thankful for that!"
"Ay" said James, "and by my troth, I wish he was alive again! It's allvery fine to blow and boast beforehand; but now it's done, Alan; andwho's to bear the wyte* of it? The accident fell out in Appin--mind yethat, Alan; it's Appin that must pay; and I am a man that has a family."
* Blame.
While this was going on I looked about me at the servants. Some were onladders, digging in the thatch of the house or the farm buildings,from which they brought out guns, swords, and different weapons ofwar; others carried them away; and by the sound of mattock blows fromsomewhere farther down the brae, I suppose they buried them. Though theywere all so busy, there prevailed no kind of order in their efforts; menstruggled together for the same gun and ran into each other with theirburning torches; and James was continually turning about from his talkwith Alan, to cry out orders which were apparently never understood. Thefaces in the torchlight were like those of people overborne with hurryand panic; and though none spoke above his breath, their speech soundedboth anxious and angry.
It was about this time that a lassie came out of the house carryinga pack or bundle; and it has often made me smile to think how Alan'sinstinct awoke at the mere sight of it.
"What's that the lassie has?" he asked.
"We're just setting the house in order, Alan," said James, in hisfrightened and somewhat fawning way. "They'll search Appin with candles,and we must have all things straight. We're digging the bit guns andswords into the moss, ye see; and these, I am thinking, will be your ainFrench clothes. We'll be to bury them, I believe."
"Bury my French clothes!" cried Alan. "Troth, no!" And he laid hold uponthe packet and retired into the barn to shift himself, recommending mein the meanwhile to his kinsman.
James carried me accordingly into the kitchen, and sat down with me attable, smiling and talking at first in a very hospitable manner. Butpresently the gloom returned upon him; he sat frowning and biting hisfingers; only remembered me from time to time; and then gave me but aword or two and a poor smile, and back into his private terrors. Hiswife sat by the fire and wept, with her face in her hands; his eldestson was crouched upon the floor, running over a great mass of papers andnow and again setting one alight and burning it to the bitter end; allthe while a servant lass with a red face was rummaging about the room,in a blind hurry of fear, and whimpering as she went; and every now andagain one of the men would thrust in his face from the yard, and cry fororders.
At last James could keep his seat no longer, and begged my permission tobe 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 thetrouble it is like to bring upon quite innocent persons."
A little after he observed his son burning a paper which he thoughtshould have been kept; and at that his excitement burst out so that itwas painful to witness. He struck the lad repeatedly.
"Are you gone gyte?"* he cried. "Do you wish to hang your father?" andforgetful of my presence, carried on at him a long time together in theGaelic, the young man answering nothing; only the wife, at the name ofhanging, throwing her apron over her face and sobbing out louder thanbefore.
* Mad.
This was all wretched for a stranger like myself to hear and see; andI was right glad when Alan returned, looking like himself in his fineFrench clothes, though (to be sure) they were now grown almost toobattered and withered to deserve the name of fine. I was then taken outin my turn by another of the sons, and given that change of clothing ofwhich I had stood so long in need, and a pair of Highland brogues madeof deer-leather, rather strange at first, but after a little practicevery easy to the feet.
By the time I came back Alan must have told his story; for it seemedunderstood that I was to fly with him, and they were all busy upon ourequipment. They gave us each a sword and pistols, though I professed myinability to use the former; and with these, and some ammunition, a bagof oatmeal, an iron pan, and a bottle of right French brandy, we wereready for the heather. Money, indeed, was lacking. I had about twoguineas left; Alan's belt having been despatched by another hand, thattrusty messenger had no more than seventeen-pence to his whole fortune;and as for James, it appears he had brought himself so low with journeysto Edinburgh and legal expenses on behalf of the tenants, that he couldonly scrape together three-and-five-pence-halfpenny, the most of it incoppers.
"This'll no do," said Alan.
"Ye must find a safe bit somewhere near by," said James, "and get wordsent 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 getwind of ye, sure to seek ye, and by my way of it, sure to lay on ye thewyte of this day's accident. If it falls on you, it falls on me that amyour near kinsman and harboured ye while ye were in the country. And ifit 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. "O man, man, man--manAlan! you and me have spoken like two fools!" he cried, striking hishand upon the wall so that the house rang again.
"Well, and that's true, too," said Alan; "and my friend from theLowlands here" (nodding at me) "gave me a good word upon that head, if Iwould only have listened to him."
"But see here," said James, returning to his former manner, "if they layme by the heels, Alan, it's then that you'll be needing the money. Forwith all that I have said and that you have said, it will look veryblack against the two of us; do ye mark that? Well, follow me out, andye'll, I'll see that I'll have to get a paper out against ye mysel';have to offer a reward for ye; ay, will I! It's a sore thing to dobetween such near friends; but if I get the dirdum* of this dreadfulaccident, I'll have to fend for myself, man. Do ye see that?"
* Blame.
He spoke with a pleading earnestness, taking Alan by the breast of thecoat.
"Ay" said Alan, "I see that."
"And ye'll have to be clear of the country, A
lan--ay, and clear ofScotland--you and your friend from the Lowlands, too. For I'll have topaper your friend from the Lowlands. Ye see that, Alan--say that ye seethat!"
I thought Alan flushed a bit. "This is unco hard on me that brought himhere, James," said he, throwing his head back. "It's like making me atraitor!"
"Now, Alan, man!" cried James. "Look things in the face! He'll bepapered anyway; Mungo Campbell'll be sure to paper him; what mattersif I paper him too? And then, Alan, I am a man that has a family." Andthen, after a little pause on both sides, "And, Alan, it'll be a jury ofCampbells," said he.
"There's one thing," said Alan, musingly, "that naebody kens his name."
"Nor yet they shallnae, Alan! There's my hand on that," cried James, forall the world as if he had really known my name and was foregoing someadvantage. "But just the habit he was in, and what he looked like, andhis age, and the like? I couldnae well do less."
"I wonder at your father's son," cried Alan, sternly. "Would ye sell thelad 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 habitMungo saw him in." But I thought he seemed crestfallen; indeed, he wasclutching at every straw, and all the time, I dare say, saw the faces ofhis hereditary foes on the bench, and in the jury-box, and the gallowsin the background.
"Well, sir," says Alan, turning to me, "what say ye to that? Ye are hereunder the safeguard of my honour; and it's my part to see nothing donebut what shall please you."
"I have but one word to say," said I; "for to all this dispute I am aperfect stranger. But the plain common-sense is to set the blame whereit belongs, and that is on the man who fired the shot. Paper him, as yecall it, set the hunt on him; and let honest, innocent folk show theirfaces 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 askingme what the Camerons would think? (which confirmed me, it must have beena Cameron from Mamore that did the act) and if I did not see that thelad might be caught? "Ye havenae surely thought of that?" said they,with such innocent earnestness, that my hands dropped at my side and Idespaired of argument.
"Very well, then," said I, "paper me, if you please, paper Alan, paperKing George! We're all three innocent, and that seems to be what'swanted. But at least, sir," said I to James, recovering from my littlefit of annoyance, "I am Alan's friend, and if I can be helpful tofriends of his, I will not stumble at the risk."
I thought it best to put a fair face on my consent, for I saw Alantroubled; and, besides (thinks I to myself), as soon as my back isturned, 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, thanMrs. Stewart leaped out of her chair, came running over to us, and weptfirst upon my neck and then on Alan's, blessing God for our goodness toher family.
"As for you, Alan, it was no more than your bounden duty," she said."But for this lad that has come here and seen us at our worst, and seenthe goodman fleeching like a suitor, him that by rights should give hiscommands like any king--as for you, my lad," she says, "my heart is waenot to have your name, but I have your face; and as long as my heartbeats under my bosom, I will keep it, and think of it, and bless it."And with that she kissed me, and burst once more into such sobbing, thatI stood abashed.
"Hoot, hoot," said Alan, looking mighty silly. "The day comes unco soonin this month of July; and to-morrow there'll be a fine to-do in Appin,a fine riding of dragoons, and crying of 'Cruachan!'* and running ofred-coats; and it behoves you and me to the sooner be gone."
* The rallying-word of the Campbells.
Thereupon we said farewell, and set out again, bending somewhateastwards, in a fine mild dark night, and over much the same brokencountry as before.
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