John Burnet of Barns: A Romance

by John Buchan

  Produced by Al Haines.

  John Burnet of Barns

  _A Romance_

  BY

  JOHN BUCHAN

  TORONTO: THE COPP, CLARK COMPANY, LIMITED. 1899.

  Copyright, 1898 BY JOHN LANE

  Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and ninety-nine, by THE COPP CLARKCOMPANY, LIMITED, Toronto, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture.

  TO THE MEMORY OF MY SISTER VIOLET KATHARINE STUART

  [Greek: Aster prin men elampes eni zooisin Heoos, nun de oanon lampeis Hesperos en phthimenois.]

  [Transcriber's note: the above Greek was transcribed from a poor-quality scan, so may not be quite correct]

  Contents

  BOOK I--TWEEDDALE

  CHAPTER

  I. THE ADVENTURE WHICH BEFELL ME IN THE WOOD OF DAWYCK II. THE HOUSE OF BARNS III. THE SPATE IN TWEED IV. I GO TO THE COLLEGE AT GLASGOW V. COUSINLY AFFECTION VI. HOW MASTER GILBERT BURNET PLAYED A GAME AND WAS CHECKMATED VII. THE PEGASUS INN AT PEEBLES AND HOW A STRANGER RETURNED FROM THE WARS VIII. I TAKE LEAVE OF MY FRIENDS IX. I RIDE OUT ON MY TRAVELS AND FIND A COMPANION

  BOOK II--THE LOW COUNTRIES

  I. OF MY VOYAGE TO THE LOW COUNTRIES II. I VISIT MASTER PETER WISHART III. THE STORY OF A SUPPER PARTY IV. OUR ADVENTURE ON THE ALPHEN ROAD V. THE FIRST SUNDAY OF MARCH VI. THE FIRST MONDAY OF MARCH VII. I SPEND MY DAYS IN IDLENESS VIII. THE COMING OF THE BRIG SEAMAW IX. AN ACCOUNT OF MY HOME-COMING

  BOOK III--THE HILLMEN

  I. THE PIER O' LEITH II. HOW I RODE TO THE SOUTH III. THE HOUSE OF DAWYCK IV. HOW MICHAEL VEITCH MET HIS END V. I CLAIM A PROMISE, AND WE SEEK THE HILLS VI. THE CAVE OF THE COR WATER VII. HOW TWO OF HIS MAJESTY'S SERVANTS MET WITH THEIR DESERTS VIII. OF OUR WANDERINGS AMONG THE MOORS OF CLYDE IX. I PART FROM MARJORY X. OF THE MAN WITH THE ONE EYE AND THE ENCOUNTER IN THE GREEN CLEUCH XI. HOW A MILLER STROVE WITH HIS OWN MILL-WHEEL XII. I WITNESS A VALIANT ENDING XIII. I RUN A NARROW ESCAPE FOR MY LIFE XIV. I FALL IN WITH STRANGE FRIENDS XV. THE BAILLIES OF NO MAN'S LAND XVI. HOW THREE MEN HELD A TOWN IN TERROR XVII. OF THE FIGHT IN THE MOSS OF BIGGAR XVIII. SMITWOOD

  BOOK IV--THE WESTLANDS

  I. I HEAR NO GOOD IN THE INN AT THE FORDS O' CLYDE II. AN OLD JOURNEY WITH A NEW ERRAND III. THE HOUSE WITH THE CHIPPED GABLES IV. UP HILL AND DOWN DALE V. EAGLESHAM VI. I MAKE MY PEACE WITH GILBERT BURNET VII. OF A VOICE IN THE EVENTIDE VIII. HOW NICOL PLENDERLEITH SOUGHT HIS FORTUNE ELSEWHERE IX. THE END OF ALL THINGS

  John Burnet of Barns

  BOOK I--TWEEDDALE

  CHAPTER I

  THE ADVENTURE WHICH BEFELL ME IN THE WOOD OF DAWYCK

  I have taken in hand to write this, the history of my life, not withoutmuch misgiving of heart; for my memory at the best is a bad one, and ofmany things I have no clear remembrance. And the making of tales is anart unknown to me, so he who may read must not look for any great skillin the setting down. Yet I am emboldened to the work, for my life hasbeen lived in stirring times and amid many strange scenes which may notwholly lack interest for those who live in quieter days. And above all,I am desirous that they of my family should read of my life and learnthe qualities both good and bad which run in the race, and so the betterbe able to resist the evil and do the good.

  My course, by the will of God, has had something of a method about it,which makes the telling the more easy. For, as I look back upon it fromthe vantage ground of time, all seems spread out plain and clear in anordered path. And I would but seek to trace again some portion of theway with the light of a dim memory.

  I will begin my tale with a certain June morning in the year 1678, whenI, scarcely turned twelve years, set out from the house of Barns to thefishing in Tweed. I had escaped the watchful care of my tutor, MasterRobert Porter, the curate of Lyne, who vexed my soul thrice a week withCaesar and Cicero. I had no ill-will to the Latin, for I relished thebattles in Caesar well enough, and had some liking for poetry; but whenI made a slip in grammar he would bring his great hand over my ears in away which would make them tingle for hours. And all this, mind you,with the sun coming in at the window and whaups whistling over thefields and the great fish plashing in the river. On this morn I hadescaped by hiding in the cheese-closet; then I had fetched my rod fromthe stable-loft, and borrowed tackle from Davie Lithgow, the stableman;and now I was creeping through the hazel bushes, casting, every now andthen, a glance back at the house, where the huge figure of my teacherwas looking for me disconsolately in every corner.

  The year had been dry and sultry; and this day was warmer than any Iremembered. The grass in the meadow was browned and crackling; all thefoxgloves hung their bells with weariness; and the waters were shrunkenin their beds. The mill-lade, which drives Manor Mill, had not a dropin it, and the small trout were gasping in the shallow pool, which inour usual weather was five feet deep. The cattle were _stertling_, aswe called it in the countryside; that is, the sun was burning theirbacks, and, rushing with tails erect, they sought coolness from end toend of the field. Tweed was very low and clear. Small hope, I thought,for my fishing; I might as well have stayed with Master Porter and beenthrashed, for I will have to stay out all day and go supperless atnight.

  I took my way up the river past the green slopes of Haswellsykes to thewood of Dawyck, for I knew well that there, if anywhere, the fish wouldtake in the shady, black pools. The place was four weary miles off, andthe day was growing hotter with each passing hour; so I stripped my coatand hid it in a hole among whins and stones. When I come home again, Isaid, I will recover it. Another half mile, and I had off my shoes andstockings and concealed them in a like place; so soon I plodded alongwith no other clothes on my body than shirt and ragged breeches.

  In time I came to the great forest which stretches up Tweed nigh toDrummelzier, the greatest wood in our parts, unless it be Glentress, onthe east side of Peebles. The trees were hazels and birches in themain, with a few rowans, and on the slopes of the hill a congregation ofdesolate pines. Nearer the house of Dawyck were beeches and oaks andthe deeper shade, and it was thither I went. The top of my rod struckagainst the boughs, and I had some labour in steering a safe coursebetween the Scylla of the trees and the Charybdis of the long brackens;for the rod was in two parts spliced together, and as I had little skillin splicing, Davie had done the thing for me before I started. Twice Iroused a cock of the woods, which went screaming through the shadow.Herons from the great heronry at the other end were standing in nighevery pool, for the hot weather was a godsend to them, and the troutfared ill when the long thief-like bills flashed through the clearwater. Now and then a shy deer leaped from the ground and sped up thehill. The desire of the chase was hot upon me when, after an hour'srough scramble, I came to the spot where I hoped for fish.

  A stretch of green turf, shaded on all sides by high beeches, slopeddown to the stream-side. The sun made a shining pathway down themiddle, but the edges were in blackest shadow. At the foot a lonegnarled alder hung over the water, sending its long arm
s far over theriver nigh to the farther side. Here Tweed was still and sunless,showing a level of placid black water, flecked in places with strayshafts of light. I prepared my tackle on the grass, making acasting-line of fine horse-hair which I had plucked from the tail of ourown grey gelding. I had no such fine hooks as folk nowadays bring fromEdinburgh, sharpened and barbed ready to their hand; but rough, homemadeones, which Tam Todd, the land-grieve, had fashioned out of old needles.My line was of thin, stout whipcord, to which I had made the castingfirm with a knot of my own invention. I had out my bag of worms, and,choosing a fine red one, made it fast on the hook. Then I crept gentlyto the alder and climbed on the branch which hung far out over thestream. Here I sat like an owl in the shade, and dropped my line in thepool below me, where it caught a glint of the sun and looked like ashining cord let down, like Jacob's ladder, from heaven to the darknessof earth.

  I had not sat many minutes before my rod was wrenched violentlydownwards, then athwart the stream, nearly swinging me from my perch. Ihave got a monstrous trout, I thought, and with a fluttering heart stoodup on the branch to be more ready for the struggle. He ran up the waterand down; then far below the tree roots, whence I had much difficulty inforcing him; then he thought to break my line by rapid jerks, but he didnot know the strength of my horse-hair. By and by he grew wearied, andI landed him comfortably on a spit of land--a great red-spotted fellowwith a black back. I made sure that he was two pounds weight if he wasan ounce.

  I hid him in a cool bed of leaves and rushes on the bank, and crawledback to my seat on the tree. I baited my hook as before, and dropped itin; and then leaned back lazily on the branches behind to meditate onthe pleasantness of fishing and the hatefulness of Master Porter'steaching. In my shadowed place all was cool and fresh as a May morning,but beyond, in the gleam of the sun, I could see birds hopping sleepilyon the trees, and the shrivelled dun look of the grass. A faint hummingof bees reached me, and the flash of a white butterfly shot, now andthen, like a star from the sunlight to the darkness, and back again tothe sunlight. It was a lovely summer's day, though too warm for oursober country, and as I sat I thought of the lands I had read of andheard of, where it was always fiercely hot, and great fruits were to behad for the pulling. I thought of the oranges and olives and what not,and great silver and golden fishes with sparkling scales; and as Ithought of them I began to loathe hazel-nuts and rowans andwhortleberries, and the homely trout, which are all that is to be had inthis land of ours. Then I thought of Barns and my kinsfolk, and all thetales of my forbears, and I loved again the old silent valley ofTweed--for a gallant tale is worth many fruits and fishes. Then as theday brightened my dreams grew accordingly. I came of a great old house;I, too, would ride to the wars, to the low countries, to Sweden, and Iwould do great deeds like the men in Virgil. And then I wished I hadlived in Roman times. Ah, those were the days, when all the good thingsof life fell to brave men, and there was no other trade to be comparedto war. Then I reflected that they had no fishing, for I had come onnothing as yet in my studies about fish and the catching of them. Andso, like the boy I was, I dreamed on, and my thoughts chased each otherin a dance in my brain, and I fell fast asleep.

  I wakened with a desperate shudder, and found myself floundering inseven feet of water. My eyes were still heavy with sleep, and Iswallowed great gulps of the river as I sank. In a second I came to thesurface and with a few strokes I was at the side, for I had earlylearned to swim. Stupid and angry, I scrambled up the bank to the greenglade. Here a first surprise befell me. It was late afternoon; the sunhad travelled three-fourths of the sky; it would be near five o'clock.What a great fool I had been to fall asleep and lose a day's fishing! Ifound my rod moored to the side with the line and half of thehorse-hair; some huge fish had taken the hook. Then I looked around meto the water and the trees and the green sward, and surprise the secondbefell me; for there, not twelve paces from me, stood a little girl,watching me with every appearance of terror.

  She was about two years younger than myself, I fancied. Her dress wassome rich white stuff which looked eerie in the shade of the beeches,and her long hair fell over her shoulders in plentiful curls. She hadwide, frightened blue eyes and a delicately-featured face, and as forthe rest I know not how to describe her, so I will not try. I, with nomore manners than a dog, stood staring at her, wholly forgetful of theappearance I must present, without shoes and stockings, coat orwaistcoat, and dripping with Tweed water. She spoke first, in a softsouthern tone, which I, accustomed only to the broad Scots of JeanMorran, who had been my nurse, fell in love with at once. Her whole facewas filled with the extremest terror.

  "Oh, sir, be you the water-kelpie?" she asked.

  I could have laughed at her fright, though I must have been like enoughto some evil spirit; but I answered her with my best gravity.

  "No, I am no kelpie, but I had gone to sleep and fell into the stream.My coat and shoes are in a hole two miles down, and my name is JohnBurnet of Barns." All this I said in one breath, being anxious to rightmyself in her eyes; also with some pride in the last words.

  It was pretty to see how recognition chased the fear from her face. "Iknow you," she said. "I have heard of you. But what do you in thedragon's hole, sir? This is my place. The dragon will get you withouta doubt."

  At this I took off my bonnet and made my best bow. "And who are you,pray, and what story is this of dragons? I have been here scores oftimes, and never have I seen or heard of them." This with the mockimportance of a boy.

  "Oh, I am Marjory," she said, "Marjory Veitch, and I live at the greathouse in the wood, and all this place is my father's and mine. And thisis my dragon's den;" and straightway she wandered into a long tale ofFair Margot and the Seven Maidens, how Margot wed the Dragon and heturned forthwith into a prince, and I know not what else. "But no harmcan come to me, for look, I have the charm," and she showed me a blackstone in a silver locket. "My nurse Alison gave it me. She had it froma great fairy who came with it to my cradle when I was born."

  "Who told you all this?" I asked in wonder, for this girl seemed tocarry all the wisdom of the ages in her head.

  "Alison and my father, and my brother Michael and old Adam Noble, and agreat many more--" Then she broke off. "My mother is gone. Thefairies came for her."

  Then I remembered the story of the young English mistress of Dawyck, whohad died before she had been two years in our country. And this child,with her fairy learning, was her daughter.

  Now I know not what took me, for I had ever been shy of folk, and, aboveall, of womankind. But here I found my tongue, and talked to my newcompanion in a way which I could not sufficiently admire. There in thebright sun-setting I launched into the most miraculous account of myadventures of that day, in which dragons and witches were simply thecommonest portents. Then I sat down and told her all the stories I hadread out of Virgil and Caesar, and all that I had heard of the wars inEngland and abroad, and the tales of the countryside which the packmenhad told me. Also I must tell the romances of the nettie-wives who cometo our countryside from the north--the old sad tale of Morag of theMisty Days and Usnach's sons and the wiles of Angus. And she listened,and thanked me ever so prettily when I had done. Then she wouldenlighten my ignorance; so I heard of the Red Etin of Ireland, and theWolf of Brakelin, and the Seven Bold Brothers. Then I showed her nests,and gave her small blue eggs to take home, and pulled great foxglovesfor her, and made coronets of fern. We played at hide-and-go-seek amongthe beeches, and ran races, and fought visionary dragons. Then the sunwent down over the trees, and she declared it was time to be going home.So I got my solitary fish from its bed of rushes and made her a presentof it. She was pleased beyond measure, though she cried out at myhardness in taking its life.

  So it came to pass that Mistress Marjory Veitch of Dawyck went homehugging a great two-pound trout, and I went off to Barns, heedless ofMaster Porter and his heavy hand, and, arriving late, escaped athrashing, and made a good meal of the
remnants of supper.