Salute to Adventurers

by John Buchan

  CHAPTER II.

  OF A HIGH-HANDED LADY.

  The storm died away in the night, and I awoke to a clear, rain-washedworld and the chill of an autumn morn. I was as stiff and sore as if Ihad been whipped, my clothes were sodden and heavy, and not till I hadwashed my face and hands in the burn and stretched my legs up thehill-side did I feel restored to something of my ordinary briskness.

  The encampment looked weird indeed as seen in the cruel light of day.The women were cooking oatmeal on iron girdles, but the fire burnedsmokily, and the cake I got was no better than dough. They were adisjaskit lot, with tousled hair and pinched faces, in which shonehungry eyes. Most were barefoot, and all but two--three were ancientbeldames who should have been at home in the chimney corner. I noticedone decent-looking young woman, who had the air of a farm servant; andtwo were well-fed country wives who had probably left a brood ofchildren to mourn them. The men were little better. One had the sallowlook of a weaver, another was a hind with a big, foolish face, andthere was a slip of a lad who might once have been a student ofdivinity. But each had a daftness in the eye and something weak andunwholesome in the visage, so that they were an offence to the fresh,gusty moorland.

  All but Muckle John himself. He came out of his tent and prayed tillthe hill-sides echoed. It was a tangle of bedlamite ravings, with longscreeds from the Scriptures intermixed like currants in a bag-pudding.But there was power in the creature, in the strange lift of his voice,in his grim jowl, and in the fire of his sombre eyes. The others Ipitied, but him I hated and feared. On him and his kind were to beblamed all the madness of the land, which had sent my father overseasand desolated our dwelling. So long as crazy prophets preachedbrimstone and fire, so long would rough-shod soldiers and cunninglawyers profit by their folly; and often I prayed in those days thatthe two evils might devour each other.

  It was time that I was cutting loose from this ill-omened company andcontinuing my road Edinburgh-wards. We were lying in a wide trough ofthe Pentland Hills, which I well remembered. The folk of the plainscalled it the Cauldstaneslap, and it made an easy path for sheep andcattle between the Lothians and Tweeddale. The camp had been snuglychosen, for, except by the gleam of a fire in the dark, it wasinvisible from any distance. Muckle John was so filled with hisvapourings that I could readily slip off down the burn and join thesouthern highway at the village of Linton.

  I was on the verge of going when I saw that which pulled me up. A riderwas coming over the moor. The horse leaped the burn lightly, and beforeI could gather my wits was in the midst of the camp, where Muckle Johnwas vociferating to heaven.

  My heart gave a great bound, for I saw it was the girl who had sung tome in the rain. She rode a fine sorrel, with the easy seat of a skilledhorsewoman. She was trimly clad in a green riding-coat, and over thelace collar of it her hair fell in dark, clustering curls. Her face wasgrave, like a determined child's; but the winds of the morning hadwhipped it to a rosy colour, so that into that clan of tatterdemalionsshe rode like Proserpine descending among the gloomy Shades. In herhand she carried a light riding-whip.

  A scream from the women brought Muckle John out of his rhapsodies. Hestared blankly at the slim girl who confronted him with hand on hip.

  "What seekest thou here, thou shameless woman?" he roared.

  "I am come," said she, "for my tirewoman, Janet Somerville, who left methree days back without a reason. Word was brought me that she hadjoined a mad company called the Sweet-Singers, that lay at theCauldstaneslap. Janet's a silly body, but she means no ill, and hermother is demented at the loss of her. So I have come for Janet."

  Her cool eyes ran over the assembly till they lighted on the one I hadalready noted as more decent-like than the rest. At the sight of thegirl the woman bobbed a curtsy.

  "Come out of it, silly Janet," said she on the horse; "you'll nevermake a Sweet-Singer, for there's not a notion of a tune in your head."

  "It's not singing that I seek, my leddy," said the woman, blushing. "Ifollow the call o' the Lord by the mouth o' His servant, John Gib."

  "You'll follow the call of your mother by the mouth of me, ElspethBlair. Forget these havers, Janet, and come back like a good Christiansoul. Mount and be quick. There's room behind me on Bess."

  The words were spoken in a kindly, wheedling tone, and the girl's facebroke into the prettiest of smiles. Perhaps Janet would have obeyed,but Muckle John, swift to prevent defection, took up the parable.

  "Begone, ye daughter of Heth!" he bellowed, "ye that are like thedevils that pluck souls from the way of salvation. Begone, or it isstrongly borne in upon me that ye will dree the fate of the women ofMidian, of whom it is written that they were slaughtered and sparednot."

  The girl did not look his way. She had her coaxing eyes on her haltingmaid. "Come, Janet, woman," she said again. "It's no job for a decentlass to be wandering at the tail of a crazy warlock."

  The word roused Muckle John to fury. He sprang forward, caught thesorrel's bridle, and swung it round. The girl did not move, but lookedhim square in the face, the young eyes fronting his demoniac glower.Then very swiftly her arm rose, and she laid the lash of her whiproundly over his shoulders.

  The man snarled like a beast, leaped back and plucked from his seaman'sbelt a great horse-pistol. I heard the click of it cocking, and thenext I knew it was levelled at the girl's breast. The sight of her andthe music of her voice had so enthralled me that I had made no plan asto my own conduct. But this sudden peril put fire into my heels, and ina second I was at his side. I had brought from home a stout shepherd'sstaff, with which I struck the muzzle upwards. The pistol went off in agreat stench of powder, but the bullet wandered to the clouds.

  Muckle John let the thing fall into the moss, and plucked anotherweapon from his belt. This was an ugly knife, such as a cobbler usesfor paring hides. I knew the seaman's trick of throwing, having seentheir brawls at the pier of Leith, and I had no notion for the steel inmy throat. The man was far beyond me in size and strength, so I darednot close with him. Instead, I gave him the point of my staff with allmy power straight in the midriff. The knife slithered harmlessly overmy shoulder, and he fell backwards into the heather.

  There was no time to be lost, for the whole clan came round me like aflock of daws. One of the men, the slim lad, had a pistol, but I saw bythe way he handled it that it was unprimed. I was most afraid of thewomen, who with their long claws would have scratched my eyes out, andI knew they would not spare the girl. To her I turned anxiously, and,to my amazement, she was laughing. She recognized me, for she criedout, "Is this the way to Kirknewton, sir?" And all the time sheshook with merriment. In that hour I thought her as daft as theSweet-Singers, whose nails were uncommonly near my cheek.

  I got her bridle, tumbled over the countryman with a kick, and forcedher to the edge of the sheepfold. But she wheeled round again, crying,"I must have Janet," and faced the crowd with her whip. That was wellenough, but I saw Muckle John staggering to his feet, and I feareddesperately for his next move. The girl was either mad orextraordinarily brave.

  "Get back, you pitiful knaves," she cried. "Lay a hand on me, and Iwill cut you to ribbons. Make haste, Janet, and quit this folly."

  It was gallant talk, but there was no sense in it. Muckle John was onhis feet, half the clan had gone round to our rear, and in a second ortwo she would have been torn from the saddle. A headstrong girl wasbeyond my management, and my words of entreaty were lost in the babelof cries.

  But just then there came another sound. From the four quarters of themoor there closed in upon us horsemen. They came silently and wereabout us before I had a hint of their presence. It was a troop ofdragoons in the king's buff and scarlet, and they rode us down as if wehad been hares in a field. The next I knew of it I was sprawling on theground with a dizzy head, and horses trampling around me, I had aglimpse of Muckle John with a pistol at his nose, and the sorrelcurveting and plunging in a panic. Then I bethought myself of saving mybones, and crawled out of the mellay behind the sheep
fold.

  Presently I realized that this was the salvation I had been seeking.Gib was being pinioned, and two of the riders were speaking with thegirl. The women hung together like hens in a storm, while the dragoonslaid about them with the flat of their swords. There was one poorcreature came running my way, and after her followed on foot a longfellow, who made clutches at her hair. He caught her with ease, andproceeded to bind her hands with great brutality.

  "Ye beldame," he said, with many oaths, "I'll pare your talons for ye."

  Now I, who a minute before had been in danger from this very crew, wassmitten with a sudden compunction. Except for Muckle John, they were sopitifully feeble, a pack of humble, elderly folk, worn out with fastingand marching and ill weather. I had been sickened by their crazydevotions, but I was more sickened by this man's barbarity. It was thewoman, too, who had given me food the night before.

  So I stepped out, and bade the man release her.

  He was a huge, sunburned ruffian, and for answer aimed a clour at myhead. "Take that, my mannie," he said. "I'll learn ye to follow thepetticoats."

  His scorn put me into a fury, in which anger at his brutishness and thepresence of the girl on the sorrel moved my pride to a piece of nakedfolly. I flew at his throat, and since I had stood on a littleeminence, the force of my assault toppled him over. My victory lastedscarcely a minute. He flung me from him like a feather, then picked meup and laid on to me with the flat of his sword.

  "Ye thrawn jackanapes," he cried, as he beat me. "Ye'll pay dear forplaying your pranks wi' John Donald."

  I was a child in his mighty grasp, besides having no breath left in meto resist. He tied my hands and legs, haled me to his horse, and flungme sack-like over the crupper. There was no more shamefaced lad in theworld than me at that moment, for coming out of the din I heard agirl's light laughter.