CHAPTER XXV
IN BALQUHIDDER
At the door of the first house we came to, Alan knocked, which was ofno very safe enterprise in such a part of the Highlands as the Braes ofBalquhidder. No great clan held rule there; it was filled and disputedby small septs, and broken remnants, and what they call "chieflessfolk," driven into the wild country about the springs of Forth and Teithby the advance of the Campbells. Here were Stewarts and Maclarens, whichcame 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 alwaysbeen ill-considered, and now worse than ever, having credit with no sideor party in the whole country of Scotland. Their chief, Macgregor ofMacgregor, was in exile; the more immediate leader of that part of themabout Balquhidder, James More, Rob Roy's eldest son, lay waiting histrial in Edinburgh Castle; they were in ill-blood with Highlander andLowlander, with the Grahames, the Maclarens, and the Stewarts; and Alan,who took up the quarrel of any friend, however distant, was extremelywishful to avoid them.
Chance served us very well; for it was a household of Maclarens that wefound, where Alan was not only welcome for his name's sake but knownby reputation. Here then I was got to bed without delay, and a doctorfetched, who found me in a sorry plight. But whether because he was avery good doctor, or I a very young, strong man, I lay bedridden for nomore than a week, and before a month I was able to take the road againwith a good heart.
All this time Alan would not leave me though I often pressed him, andindeed his foolhardiness in staying was a common subject of outcry withthe two or three friends that were let into the secret. He hid by dayin a hole of the braes under a little wood; and at night, when the coastwas clear, would come into the house to visit me. I need not say if Iwas pleased to see him; Mrs. Maclaren, our hostess, thought nothing goodenough for such a guest; and as Duncan Dhu (which was the name of ourhost) had a pair of pipes in his house, and was much of a lover ofmusic, this time of my recovery was quite a festival, and we commonlyturned night into day.
The soldiers let us be; although once a party of two companies and somedragoons went by in the bottom of the valley, where I could see themthrough the window as I lay in bed. What was much more astonishing, nomagistrate came near me, and there was no question put of whence I cameor whither I was going; and in that time of excitement, I was as free ofall inquiry as though I had lain in a desert. Yet my presence was knownbefore I left to all the people in Balquhidder and the adjacent parts;many coming about the house on visits and these (after the custom of thecountry) spreading the news among their neighbours. The bills, too, hadnow been printed. There was one pinned near the foot of my bed, whereI could read my own not very flattering portrait and, in largercharacters, the amount of the blood money that had been set upon mylife. Duncan Dhu and the rest that knew that I had come there in Alan'scompany, could have entertained no doubt of who I was; and many othersmust have had their guess. For though I had changed my clothes, I couldnot change my age or person; and Lowland boys of eighteen were not sorife in these parts of the world, and above all about that time, thatthey could fail to put one thing with another, and connect me with thebill. So it was, at least. Other folk keep a secret among two or threenear friends, and somehow it leaks out; but among these clansmen, it istold to a whole countryside, and they will keep it for a century.
There was but one thing happened worth narrating; and that is the visitI had of Robin Oig, one of the sons of the notorious Rob Roy. He wassought upon all sides on a charge of carrying a young woman fromBalfron and marrying her (as was alleged) by force; yet he stepped aboutBalquhidder like a gentleman in his own walled policy. It was he who hadshot James Maclaren at the plough stilts, a quarrel never satisfied; yethe walked into the house of his blood enemies as a rider* might into a public inn.* Commercial traveller.
Duncan had time to pass me word of who it was; and we looked at oneanother in concern. You should understand, it was then close upon thetime of Alan's coming; the two were little likely to agree; and yet ifwe sent word or sought to make a signal, it was sure to arouse suspicionin a man under so dark a cloud as the Macgregor.
He came in with a great show of civility, but like a man amonginferiors; took off his bonnet to Mrs. Maclaren, but clapped it on hishead again to speak to Duncan; and having thus set himself (as he wouldhave thought) in a proper light, came to my bedside and bowed.
"I am given to know, sir," says he, "that your name is Balfour."
"They call me David Balfour," said I, "at your service."
"I would give ye my name in return, sir," he replied, "but it's onesomewhat blown upon of late days; and it'll perhaps suffice if I tellye that I am own brother to James More Drummond or Macgregor, of whom yewill scarce have failed to hear."
"No, sir," said I, a little alarmed; "nor yet of your father,Macgregor-Campbell." And I sat up and bowed in bed; for I thought bestto compliment him, in case he was proud of having had an outlaw to hisfather.
He bowed in return. "But what I am come to say, sir," he went on, "isthis. In the year '45, my brother raised a part of the 'Gregara' andmarched six companies to strike a stroke for the good side; and thesurgeon that marched with our clan and cured my brother's leg when itwas broken in the brush at Preston Pans, was a gentleman of the samename precisely as yourself. He was brother to Balfour of Baith; and ifyou are in any reasonable degree of nearness one of that gentleman'skin, 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'sdog; 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 butthat bitter disgrace of owning that I could not tell.
Robin told me shortly he was sorry he had put himself about, turned hisback upon me without a sign of salutation, and as he went towards thedoor, I could hear him telling Duncan that I was "only some kinless loonthat didn't know his own father." Angry as I was at these words, andashamed of my own ignorance, I could scarce keep from smiling that aman who was under the lash of the law (and was indeed hanged some threeyears later) should be so nice as to the descent of his acquaintances.
Just in the door, he met Alan coming in; and the two drew back andlooked at each other like strange dogs. They were neither of them bigmen, 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 itmight 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 theMaclarens," says Alan.
"That's a kittle point," returned the other. "There may be two words tosay to that. But I think I will have heard that you are a man of yoursword?"
"Unless ye were born deaf, Mr. Macgregor, ye will have heard a good dealmore than that," says Alan. "I am not the only man that can draw steelin Appin; and when my kinsman and captain, Ardshiel, had a talk with agentleman of your name, not so many years back, I could never hear thatthe Macgregor had the best of it."
"Do ye mean my father, sir?" says Robin.
"Well, I wouldnae wonder," said Alan. "The gentleman I have in my mindhad the ill-taste to clap Campbell to his name."
"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 thesefighting cocks, ready to intervene upon the least occasion. But whenthat word was uttered, it was a case of now or never; and Duncan, withsomething of a white face to be sure, thrust himself between.
"Gentlemen," said he, "I will have been thinking of a very differentmatter, whateffer.
Here are my pipes, and here are you two gentlemen whoare baith acclaimed pipers. It's an auld dispute which one of ye's thebest. Here will be a braw chance to settle it."
"Why, sir," said Alan, still addressing Robin, from whom indeed he hadnot so much as shifted his eyes, nor yet Robin from him, "why, sir,"says Alan, "I think I will have heard some sough* of the sort. Have yemusic, as folk say? Are ye a bit of a piper?"
* Rumour.
"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," returned Robin, "and thatagainst better adversaries."
"It is easy to try that," says Alan.
Duncan Dhu made haste to bring out the pair of pipes that was hisprincipal possession, and to set before his guests a mutton-ham and abottle of that drink which they call Athole brose, and which is made ofold whiskey, strained honey and sweet cream, slowly beaten together inthe right order and proportion. The two enemies were still on the verybreach of a quarrel; but down they sat, one upon each side of the peatfire, with a mighty show of politeness. Maclaren pressed them to tastehis mutton-ham and "the wife's brose," reminding them the wife was outof 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 brokenbread for near upon ten hours, which will be worse for the breath thanany brose in Scotland."
"I will take no advantages, Mr. Stewart," replied Robin. "Eat and drink;I'll follow you."
Each ate a small portion of the ham and drank a glass of the brose toMrs. Maclaren; and then after a great number of civilities, Robin tookthe pipes and played a little spring in a very ranting manner.
"Ay, ye can blow" said Alan; and taking the instrument from his rival,he first played the same spring in a manner identical with Robin's; andthen wandered into variations, which, as he went on, he decorated witha 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.
"That's no very bad, Mr. Stewart," said the rival, "but ye show a poordevice in your warblers."
"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 yeseek to change them for the sword?"
"And that's very well said, Mr. Macgregor," returned Alan; "and in themeantime" (laying a strong accent on the word) "I take back the lie. Iappeal to Duncan."
"Indeed, ye need appeal to naebody," said Robin. "Ye're a far betterjudge than any Maclaren in Balquhidder: for it's a God's truth thatyou're a very creditable piper for a Stewart. Hand me the pipes." Alandid as he asked; and Robin proceeded to imitate and correct some part ofAlan'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 upthe variations from the beginning, he worked them throughout to so new apurpose, with such ingenuity and sentiment, and with so odd a fancy andso 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 hisfingers, like a man under some deep affront. "Enough!" he cried. "Ye canblow the pipes--make the most of that." And he made as if to rise.
But Robin only held out his hand as if to ask for silence, and struckinto the slow measure of a pibroch. It was a fine piece of music initself, and nobly played; but it seems, besides, it was a piece peculiarto the Appin Stewarts and a chief favourite with Alan. The first noteswere scarce out, before there came a change in his face; when the timequickened, he seemed to grow restless in his seat; and long before thatpiece was at an end, the last signs of his anger died from him, and hehad no thought but for the music.
"Robin Oig," he said, when it was done, "ye are a great piper. I am notfit to blow in the same kingdom with ye. Body of me! ye have mair musicin your sporran than I have in my head! And though it still sticks inmy mind that I could maybe show ye another of it with the cold steel,I warn ye beforehand--it'll no be fair! It would go against my heart tohaggle a man that can blow the pipes as you can!"
Thereupon that quarrel was made up; all night long the brose was goingand the pipes changing hands; and the day had come pretty bright, andthe three men were none the better for what they had been taking, beforeRobin as much as thought upon the road.
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