*CHAPTER V*
*IN THE DARK OF THE NIGHT*
I had not gone far when my ears caught a familiar sound--the beat ofhoofs on the high road. I paused to listen, and concluded that twohorsemen were making for Newton-Stewart. I guessed the message theycarried, and I knew that not only was I likely to have pursuers on myheels, but that, unless I walked warily, I was in danger of running intoa cordon of troopers who would be detailed from Newton-Stewart to searchfor me. I was a deserter, to whom Lag would give as little quarter asto a Covenanter. The conviction that there was a price on my head mademe suddenly conscious of the sweetness of life, and drove me to suddenthought.
By some means or other, before I concealed myself in the fastnesses ofthe hills, I must obtain a store of food. The hiding Covenanter, Iremembered, was fed by his friends. I was friendless; and unless Icould manage to lay up some store of food before I forsook the inhabitedvalleys nothing but death awaited me among the hills. As I thought ofthis, an inspiration of courage came to me. Though it would befoolishness to walk along the high road I might with advantage makebetter speed and possibly find a means of obtaining food if I walkedjust beyond the hedge which bordered it. Sooner or later I should inthis way come to a roadside inn. With this thought encouraging me, Iplodded steadily on. The highway was deserted, and no sound was to beheard but the muffled beat of my own steps upon the turf. If pursuerswere following me from Wigtown, I had left them far behind. It might bethat Lag, thinking shrewdly, had decided that no good purpose was to beserved by continuing the pursuit that night, for he knew that a manwandering at large in the uniform of a trooper would have littleopportunity of escaping. So, possibly, he had contented himself bysending the horsemen to Newton-Stewart to apprise the garrison there.Perhaps at this very moment he was chuckling over his cups as he thoughthow he would lay me by the heels on the morrow. In fancy I could seethe furrows on his brow gather in a knot as he brooded over mypunishment.
Then, borne on the still night air, I heard the click and clatter ofuncertain footsteps coming towards me. I crouched behind the hedge andpeered anxiously along the road: then my ears caught the sound of asong. The wayfarer was in a jovial mood, and I judged, from theuncertainty of his language, that he was half-drunk. I waited to makesure that the man was alone, then I stole through the hedge and walkedboldly to meet him.
"It is a fine night," I said, as I came abreast of him. He stopped inthe middle of a stave and looked me up and down.
"Aye, it's a fine nicht," he replied. "Nane the waur for a drap o'drink. Here! Tak' a dram, an pledge the King's health." He searchedhis pockets and after some difficulty withdrew a half-empty bottle fromthe inside of his coat and offered it to me. "The King, God bless him,"I said, as I put it to my lips.
"It's a peety ye're no' traivellin' my road," said the wayfarer. "Abraw young callant like you wi' the King's uniform on his back wouldmak' a graun convoy for an auld man alang this lanely road."
"No," I answered, as I handed him his bottle, "My way lies in anotherdirection."
"Ye'll no' happen to be ane o' Lag's men, are ye?" He did not await myreply, but continued: "He's a bonnie deevil, Lag! He kens the richtmedicine for Covenanters: but I ken the richt medicine for Jock Tamson,"and putting the bottle to his lips he drank deep and long. Then hestaggered to the side of the road and sat down, and holding the bottletowards me said: "Sit doon and gi'es yer crack."
Now I had no wish to be delayed by this half-drunken countryman; but Ithought that he might be of service to me, so I seated myself andpretended once again to take a deep draught from his bottle. He snatchedit from my lips.
"Haud on," he said, "ye've got a maist uncanny drouth, and that bottlemaun last me till Setterday."
"Unless you leave it alone," I said, "it will be empty ere you reachhome."
"Weel, what if it is?" he hiccoughed. "The Lord made guid drink and I'mno' the man to spurn the mercies o' the Creator."
"Well," I said, "your drink is good, and I'm as dry as ashes. Can youtell me where I can get a bottle."
"Oh, weel I can, an' if ye're minded to gang and see Luckie Macmillan,I'll gi'e ye a convoy. The guid woman'll be bedded sine, but she'llrise tae see to ony frien' o' Jock Tamson's. Come on, lad," and heraised himself unsteadily to his feet and, taking me by the arm, beganto retrace his steps in the direction from which he came.
We followed the high road for perhaps a mile, and as we went he rambledon in good-natured but somewhat incoherent talk, stopping every now andthen while he laid hold of my arm and tapped my chest with the fingersof his free hand to emphasise some empty confidence. He had imparted tome, as a great secret, some froth of gossip, when he exclaimed:
"Weel: here we are at Luckie's loanin' and the guid-wife is no' in herbed yet; I can see a licht in the window."
We turned from the high road and went down the lane, at the bottom ofwhich I could discern the dark outline of a cottage. As we drew near Iwas startled by the sound of a restless horse pawing the ground and,quick in its wake, the jangle of a bridle chain. A few more steps and Isaw two horses tethered to the gatepost, and their harness was that ofthe dragoons. I was walking into the lion's den!
"So Luckie's got company, guid woman," hiccoughed my companion. "I hopeit's no' the gaugers."
I seized on the suggestion in hot haste:
"Wheesht, man," I hissed, "they are gaugers sure enough, and if you arecaught here with a bottle of Luckie's best, you'll be up before ProvostColtran at the next Session in Wigtown."
"Guid help us! an' me a God-fearin' man. Let's rin for't."
As he spoke, the door of the cottage was thrown open and in the lightfrom it I saw one of the troopers. Placing a firm hand over mycompanion's mouth I dragged him into the shadow of the hedge, andpushing him before me wormed my way through to its other side.
Here we lay, still and silent, while I, with ears alert, heard thetroopers vault into their saddles and with a cheery "Good night,Luckie," clatter up the lane to the high road to continue their way toNewton-Stewart.
We lay hidden till the noise of their going died in the distance, thenwe pushed our way back through the hedge and made for the cottage. Jockbeat an unsteady tattoo on the door.
"Wha's knockin' at this time o' nicht?" asked a woman's voice frombehind the door.
"Jock Tamson, Luckie, wi' a frien'."
"Jock Tomson!--he's awa' hame to his bed an 'oor sin'."
"Na, Luckie, it's me richt eneuch, and I've brocht a frien', a brawladdie in the King's uniform, to see ye."
The King's uniform seemed to act as a charm, for the door was at oncethrown open and we entered.
With a fugitive's caution I lingered to see that the old woman closedthe door and barred it. Then, following the uncertain light of thetallow candle which she carried, we made our way along the sanded floorof the passage and passed through a low door into a wide kitchen. Peatembers still glowed on the hearth, and when Luckie had lit two morecandles which stood in bottles on a long deal table I was able to makesome note of my surroundings. Our hostess was a woman far gone inyears. Her face was expressionless, as though set in a mould, but frombeneath the shadow of her heavy eyebrows gleamed a pair of piercing eyesthat age had not dimmed. She moved slowly with shuffling gait,half-bowed as though pursuing something elusive which she could notcatch. I noticed, too, for danger had quickened my vision, that herright hand and arm were never still.
She stooped over the hearth and casting fresh peats upon it said: "Andwhat's yer pleesure, gentlemen?"
"A bottle o' Blednoch, Luckie, a wheen soda scones and a whang o'cheese; and dinna forget the butter--we're fair famished," answeredJock, his words jostling each other. Our hostess brought a small tableand set it before us, and we sat down. Very speedily, for one so old,Luckie brought our refreshment, and Thomson, seizing the black bottle,poured himself out a stiff glass, which he drank at a gulp. I helpedmyself to a moderate dram and set the
bottle on the table between us.Thomson seized it at once and replenished his glass, and then said as hepassed the bottle to the old woman:
"Will ye no tak' a drap, Luckie, for the guid o' the hoose?"
She shuffled to the dresser and came back with a glass which she filled.
"A toast," said Thomson. "The King, God bless him," and we stood up,and drank. The potent spirit burned my mouth like liquid fire, but mycompanions seemed to relish it as they drank deeply. I had no desire todull my wits with strong drink, so, as I helped myself to a scone and apiece of cheese, I asked Luckie if she could let me have a little water.
"Watter!" cried Thomson. "Whit the deevil d'ye want wi' watter? Surelyyou're no' gaun to rot your inside wi' sic' feckless trash."
"No," I said, "I just want to let down the whisky."
"Whit!" he shouted, "spile guid Blednoch wi' pump watter!--it's adesecration, a fair abomination in the sicht o' the Lord. I thoughtfrae yer brogue ye were an Englishman. This proves it; nae stammick forguid drink; nae heid for theology. Puir deevil!"--and he shook his headpityingly.
I laughed as I watched my insatiable companion once more empty his glassand refill it.
"An' whit are ye daein' on the road sae late the nicht, young man?" saidLuckie, suddenly. "Lag's men are usually bedded long afore noo. Are yeafter the deserter tae, like the twa dragoons that were here a bittocksyne?"
I had made up my mind that my flight and identity would best beconcealed by an appearance of ingenuous candour, so I replied withouthesitation:
"Yes, I am. He has not been here to-night, has he?"
"Certes, no," exclaimed the old woman. "This is a law-abiding hoose andI wad shelter neither Covenanter nor renegade King's man."
My words seemed to disarm her of any suspicion she might have had aboutme, and she busied herself stirring the peat fire.
Its warmth and the whisky which he had consumed were making Jock drowsy.He had not touched any of the food, and his chin had begun to sink onhis chest. Soon he slipped from his seat and lay huddled, a snoringmass, on the flagged floor. Luckie made as though to lift him, but Iforbade her.
"Let him be: he'll only be quarrelsome if you wake him, and he's quitesafe on the floor."
"That's as may be," said Luckie, "but ye're no' gaun to stop a' nicht,or ye'll never catch the deserter, and ye canna leave Jock Tamson tosleep in my kitchen. I'm a dacint widda' woman, and nae scandal hasever soiled my name; and I'll no' hae it said that ony man ever sleepitin my hoose, and me by my lane, since I buried my ain man thirty yearssin'."
"That's all right," I replied, "have no fear. If Jock is not awake whenI go, I'll carry him out and put him in the ditch by the roadside."
The old woman laughed quietly. "Fegs, that's no' bad; he'll get thefricht o' his life when he waukens up in the cauld o' the mornin' andsees the stars abune him instead o' the bauks o' my kitchen."
I had been doing justice to the good fare of the house, but a look atthe "wag-at-the-wa'" warned me that I must delay no longer. But therewas something I must discover. I took my pipe from my pocket and as Ifilled it said: "I should think, Luckie, that you are well acquaintedwith this countryside."
"Naebody better," she replied. "I was born in Blednoch and I've spenta' my days between there and Penninghame Kirk. No' that I've botheredthe kirk muckle," she added.
"Then," I said, "suppose a deserter was minded to make for the hills onthe other side o' the Cree, where think you he would try to cross theriver?"
"If he wisna a fule," she said, "he'd ford it juist ayont the Carse o'Bar. Aince he's ower it's a straicht road to the heichts o' Millfore."
"And where may the Carse o' Bar be?" I asked. "For unless I hurry, myman may be over the water before I can reach it."
"It's no' far," she said, "and ye canna miss it. Ony fule could see itin the dark."
"Well, I must be off," I said. "Grier o' Lag is no easy taskmaster andI must lay this man by the heels. I'll haste me and lie in wait by theCarse of Bar, and if my luck's in, I may catch him there. What do I oweyou, and may I have some of your good scones and a bit of cheese to keepme going?"
She brought me a great plateful of scones, which I stowed about myperson with considerable satisfaction; then I paid her what she asked,and, picking up Jock, bore him towards the door. He made no resistance,and his head fell limply over my arm as though he were a person dead,though the noise of his breathing was evidence sufficient that he wasonly very drunk. Luckie opened the door and stood by it with a candlein her hand. I carried Jock down the lane and deposited him underneaththe hedge. Then I went back to the cottage to bid my hostess goodnight.
"If ye come through to the back door," she said. "I'll pit ye on thestraicht road for the Carse o' Bar."
I followed her through the kitchen, and she opened a door at the rear ofthe house and stood in its shadow to let me pass.
"Gang richt doon the hill," she said, "and keep yon whin bush on yerleft haun; syne ye'll come to a bed o' bracken,--keep that on yer richtand haud straicht on. By an' by ye'll strike the water edge. Haud up ittill ye come to a bend, and that's the place whaur the deserter willmaist likely try to cross it. Ony fule can ford the Cree; it tak's awise body to ken whaur. Guid nicht to ye."
"Good night," I answered, as I set out, turning for a moment for a lastlook at the bent old woman as she stood in the dancing shadows thrown bythe candle held in her shaking hand.
Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing Times Page 5
