by John Buchan
CHAPTER XI
HOW A MILLER STROVE WITH HIS OWN MILL-WHEEL
I lay that night on the bare moors, with no company save the birds, andno covering save a dry bush of heather. The stars twinkled a myriadmiles away, and the night airs blew soft, and I woke in the morning asfresh as if I had lain beneath the finest coverlet on the best of linen.Near me was a great pool in a burn, and there I bathed, splashing to myheart's content in the cold water. Then I ate my breakfast, which wasno better than the remnants of the food I had brought away with me theday before from Smitwood; but I gulped it down heartily and hoped forsomething better. There will be so much complaining, I fear, in my taleere it is done, that I think it well to put down all my praise of theplace and the hours which passed pleasingly.
By this time I was on a little plateau, near the great black hill ofCoomb Dod, a place whence three streams flow--the Camps Water and theCoulter Water to the Clyde, and the burn of Kingledoors to Tweed. Nowhere had I been wise I should at once have gone down the last-named tothe upper waters of Tweed near the village of Tweedsmuir, whence I mighthave come without danger to the wilder hills and the Cor Waterhiding-place. But as I stayed there desire came violently upon me to godown to the fair green haughlands about the Holmes Water, which is astream which rises not far off the Kingledoors burn, but which flowsmore to the north and enters Tweed in the strath of Drummelzier notabove a few miles from Barns itself and almost at the door of Dawyck.There I knew was the greater danger, because it lay on the straight linebetween Abington and Peebles, a way my cousin Gilbert travelled often inthose days. But I was not disposed at that moment to think ofgradations of danger; and indeed, after my encounter on the previousafternoon, I was in a haphazard, roystering mood, and would have askedfor nothing better than a chance of making holes in my cousin or hiscompany.
Now in Holmes Water glen there dwelled many who would receive me gladlyand give me shelter and food if I sought it. There were the Tweedies ofQuarter and Glencotho, kin to myself on the mother's side, not to speakof a score of herds whom I had dealings with. But my uppermost reasonwas to see once more that lovely vale, the fairest, unless it be theManor, in all the world. It is scarce six miles long, wide at thebottom and set with trees and rich with meadows and cornland, butnarrowing above to a long, sinuous green cleft between steep hills. Andthrough it flows the clearest water on earth, wherein dwell the besttrout--or did dwell, for, as I write, I have not angled in it for manydays. I know not how I can tell of the Holmes Water. It tumbles clearand tremulous into dark brown pools. In the shallows it is likesunlight, in the falls like virgin snow. And overall the place hangs afeeling of pastoral quiet and old romance, such as I never knewelsewhere.
Midday found me in the nick of the hill above Glencotho debating on myafter course. I had it in my mind to go boldly in and demand aid frommy kinsman. But I reflected that matters were not over-pleasant betweenus at the time. My father had mortally offended him on some occasion(it would be hard to name the Tweedside gentleman whom my father had notmortally angered), and I could scarce remember having heard that thequarrel had been made up. I knew that in any case if I entered theywould receive me well for the honour of the name; but I am proud, andlike little to go to a place where I am not heartily welcome. So Iresolved to go to Francie Smails, the herd's, and from him get directionand provender.
The hut was built in a little turn of the water beneath a high bank. Iknocked at the door, not knowing whether some soldier might not come toit, for the dragoons were quartered everywhere. But no one came saveFrancie himself, a great, godly man who lived alone, and cared not forpriest or woman. He cried aloud when he saw me.
"Come in by," he says, "come in quick; this is nae safe place the noo."
And he pulled me in to the hearth, where his mid-day meal was standing.With great good-will he bade me share it, and afterward, since he hadheard already of my case and had no need for enlightenment thereon, hegave me his good counsel.
"Ye maunna bide a meenute here," he said. "I'll pit up some cauld braxyand bread for ye, for it's a' I have at this time o' year. Ye maun getoot o' the glen and aff to the hills wi' a' your pith, for some o'Maister Gilbert's men passed this morn on their way to Barns, andthey'll be coming back afore nicht. So ye maun be aff, and I counsel yeto tak the taps o' the Wormel and syne cross the water abune the Crook,and gang ower by Talla and Fruid to the Cor. Keep awa' frae the Clydehills for ony sake, for they're lookit like my ain hill i' the lambin'time; and though it's maybe safer there for ye the noo, in a wee it'llbe het eneuch. But what are ye gaun to dae? Ye'll be makkin' a try towin ower the sea, for ye canna skip aboot on thae hills like a paitrickfor ever.
"I do not know," said I; "I have little liking for another sea journey,unless all else is hopeless. I will bide in the hills as long as I can,and I cannot think that the need will be long. For I have an inkling,and others beside me, that queer things will soon happen."
"Guid send they dae," said he, and I bade him good-bye. I watched himstriding off to the hill, and marvelled at the life ne led. Living fromone year's end to another on the barest fare, toiling hard on the barrensteeps for a little wage, and withal searching his heart on his longrounds by the canon of the book of God. A strange life and a hard, yetno man knows what peace may come out of loneliness.
Now had I taken his advice I should have been saved one of the mostvexatious and hazardous episodes of my life. But I was everself-willed, and so, my mind being set on going down the Holmes vale, Ithought nothing of going near the Wormel, but set off down the bridleway, as if I were a King's privy councillor and not a branded exile.
I kept by the stream till patches of fields began to appear and theroofs of the little clachan. Then I struck higher up on the hillsideand kept well in the shade of a little cloud of birk trees which layalong the edge of the slope. It was a glorious sunny day, such as Iscarce ever saw surpassed, though I have seen many weathers under manyskies. The air was as still and cool as the first breath of morning,though now it was mid-afternoon. All the nearer hills stood outclear-lined and silent; a bird sang in the nigh thicket; sheep bleatedfrom the meadow, and around the place hung the low rustle of the life ofthe woods.
Soon I came to a spot above the bend of the water near the house calledHolmes Mill. There dwelt my very good friend the miller, a man blessedwith as choice a taste in dogs as ever I have seen, and a great Whig toboot--both of which tricks he learned from a Westland grandfather.Lockhart was his name, and his folk came from the Lee near the town ofLanark to this green Tweedside vale. From the steading came the soundof life. There was a great rush of water out of the dam. Clearly themiller was preparing for his afternoon's labours. The wish took mestrongly to go down and see him, to feel the wholesome smell of grindingcorn, and above all to taste his cakes, which I had loved of old. Sowithout thinking more of it, and in utter contempt for the shepherd'swarning, I scrambled down, forded the water, and made my way to thehouse.
Clearly something was going on at the mill, and whatever it was therewas a great to-do. Sounds of voices came clear to me from themill-door, and the rush of the water sang ever in my ears. The millerhas summoned his family to help him, thought I: probably it is thelifting of the bags to the mill-loft.
But as I came nearer I perceived that it was not a mere chatter offriendly tongues, but some serious matter. There was a jangling note, asound as of a quarrel and an appeal. I judged it wise therefore to keepwell in the shadow of the wall and to go through the byre and up to theloft by an old way which I remembered--a place where one could see allthat passed without being seen of any.
And there sure enough was a sight to stagger me. Some four soldiers withunstrung muskets stood in the court, while their horses were tethered toa post. Two held the unhappy miller in their stout grip, and at the backhis wife and children were standing in sore grief. I looked keenly atthe troopers, and as I looked I remembered all too late the shepherd'swor
ds. They were part of my cousin's company, and one I recognised asmy old friend Jan Hamman of the Alphen Road and the Cor Water.
The foremost of the soldiers was speaking.
"Whig though you be," said he "you shall hae a chance of life. You looka man o' muscle. I'll tell you what I'll dae. Turn on the sluice andset the mill-wheel gaun, and then haud on to it; and if you can keep itback, your life you shall hae, as sure as my name's Tam Gordon. But ginyou let it gang, there'll be four bullets in you afore you're an houraulder, and a speedy meeting wi' your Maker. Do you wish to mak thetrial?"
Now the task was hopeless from the commencement, for big though a manbe, and the miller was as broad and high a man as one may see inTweeddale, he has no chance against a mill-race. But whether he thoughtthe thing possible or whether he wanted to gain a few minutes' respitefrom death, the man accepted and took off his coat to the task. Heopened the sluice and went forward to the wheel.
Soon the water broke over with a rush and the miller gripped a spokelike grim death. For a moment the thing was easy, for it takes someminutes for the water to gather body and force. But in a little itbecame harder, and the sinews on his bare arms began to swell with thestrain. But still he held on valiantly and the wheel moved never aninch. Soon the sweat began to run over his face, and the spray from theresisted water bespattered him plentifully. Then the strain becameterrible. His face grew livid as the blood surged to his head, hiseyeballs stood out, and his arms seemed like to be torn from theirsockets. The soldiers, with the spirit of cruel children, had forgottheir weapons, and crowded round the wheel to see the sport.
I saw clearly that he could not hold out much longer, and that unless Iwanted to see a friend butchered before my eyes I had better be up anddoing. We were two resolute men; I armed and with considerable skill ofthe sword, he unarmed, but with the strength of a bull. The mostdangerous things about our opponents were their weapons. Could I butget between them and their muskets we could make a fight for it yet.
Suddenly as I looked the man failed. With a sob of weariness he loosedhis hold. The great wheel caught the stream and moved slowly round, andhe almost fell along with it. His tormentors laughed cruelly, and wereabout to seize him and turn back, when I leaped from the loft windowlike some bolt from a clear sky.
My head was in a whirl and I had no thought of any plan. I only knewthat I must make the venture at any cost, or else be branded in my soulas a coward till my dying day.
I fell and scrambled to my feet.
"Lockhart," I cried, "here man, here. Run."
He had the sense to see my meaning. Exhausted though he was, he brokefrom his astonished captors, and in a moment was beside me and theweapons.
As I looked on them I saw at a glance where our salvation lay.
"Take these two," I said, pointing to the muskets. "I will take theothers."
I cleared my throat and addressed the soldiers. "Now, gentlemen," saidI, "once more the fortune of war has delivered you into my hands. We,as you perceive, command the weapons. I beg your permission to tell youthat I am by no means a poor shot with the musket, and likewise that Ido not stick at trifles, as doubtless my gallant friend Master Hammanwill tell you."
The men were struck dumb with surprise to find themselves thus taken ata disadvantage. They whispered for a little among themselves.Doubtless the terrors of my prowess had been so magnified by the victimsin the last escapade to cover their shame that I was regarded as averitable Hector.
"Are you the Laird of Barns?" said the leader at last, very politely.
I bowed.
"Then give us leave to tell you that we are nane sae fond o' theCaptain, your cousin," said he, thinking to soothe me.
"So much the worse for my cousin," said I.
"Therefore we are disposed to let you gang free."
"I am obliged," said I, "but my cousin is my cousin, and I tolerate norebellion toward one so near of blood. I am therefore justified,gentlemen, in using your own arms against you, since I have alwaysbelieved that traitors were shot."
At this they looked very glum. At last one of them spoke up--for afterall they were men.
"If ye'll tak the pick o' ony yin o' us and stand up to him wi' thesma'-sword, we'll agree to bide by the result."
"I thank you," I said, "but I am not in the mood for sword exercise.However, I shall be merciful, though that is a quality you have shownlittle of. You shall have your horses to ride home on, but your arms youshall leave with me as a pledge of your good conduct. Strip,gentlemen."
And strip they did, belt and buckler, pistol and sword. Then I badethem go, not without sundry compliments as one by one they passed by me.There were but four of them, and we had all the arms, so the contest wasscarcely equal. Indeed my heart smote me more than once that I had notaccepted the fellow's offer to fight. The leader spoke up boldly to myface.
"You've gotten the better o' us the noo, but it'll no be long aforeyou're gettin' your kail through the reek, Master John Burnet."
At which I laughed and said 'twas a truth I could not deny.
