Ramblin' Peter wasattending to the cattle, Marion Clark and her comrade, Isabel Scott werebusy with domestic affairs, and old Mrs. Mitchell--who never quiterecovered her reason--was seated in the chimney corner calmly knitting asock.
To warn these of their danger was now the urgent duty of the farmer, forwell he knew that the disappointed soldiers would immediately visit hishome. Indeed, he saw them ride away in that direction soon afterwards,and started off to forestall them if possible by taking a short cut.Glendinning had borrowed the horse of a trooper and left the dismountedman to walk after them.
But there was no particularly short cut to the cottage, and in spite ofAndrew's utmost exertions the dragoons arrived before him. Not,however, before the wary Peter had observed them, given the alarm, gotall the inmates of the farm--including Mrs. Mitchell--down into thehidy-hole and established himself in the chimney corner with a look ofimbecile innocence that was almost too perfect.
Poor Peter! his heart sank when the door was flung violently open andthere entered a band of soldiers, among whom he recognised some of theparty which he had so recently led into the heart of a morass and sosuddenly left to find their way out as they best could. But noexpression on Peter's stolid countenance betrayed his feelings.
"So, my young bantam cock," exclaimed a trooper, striding towards him,and bending down to make sure, "we've got hold of you at last?"
"Eh?" exclaimed Peter interrogatively.
"You're a precious scoundrel, aren't you?" continued the trooper.
"Ay," responded Peter.
"I told you the lad was an idiot," said a comrade. The remark was notlost upon the boy, whose expression immediately became still moreidiotic if possible.
"Tell me," said Glendinning, grasping Peter savagely by one ear, "whereis your master?"
"I dinna ken, sir."
"Is there nobody in the house but you?"
"Naebody but me," said Peter, "an' _you_," he added, looking vacantlyround on the soldiers.
"Now, look 'ee here, lad, I'm not to be trifled with," said thesergeant. "Where are the rest of your household hidden? Answer;quick."
Peter looked into the sergeant's face with a vacant stare, but wassilent. Glendinning, whose recent misfortune had rendered him unusuallycruel, at once knocked the boy down and kicked him; then lifting him bythe collar and thrusting him violently into the chair, repeated thequestion, but received no answer.
Changing his tactics he tried to cajole him and offered him money, butwith similar want of success.
"Hand me your sword-belt," cried the sergeant to a comrade.
With the belt he thrashed Peter until he himself grew tired, but neitherword nor cry did he extract, and, again flinging him on the floor, hekicked him severely.
"Here's a rope, sergeant," said one of the men at this point, "andthere's a convenient rafter. A lad that won't speak is not fit tolive."
"Nay, hanging is too good for the brute," said Glendinning, drawing apistol from his belt. "Tie a cloth over his eyes."
Peter turned visibly paler while his eyes were being bandaged, and thetroopers thought that they had at last overcome his obstinacy, but theylittle knew the heroic character they had to deal with.
"Now," said the sergeant, resting the cold muzzle of his weapon againstthe boy's forehead, "at the word three your brains are on the floor ifyou don't tell me where your people are hid--one--two--"
"Stop, sergeant, let him have a taste of the thumbscrews before youfinish him off," suggested one of the men.
"So be it--fetch them."
The horrible instrument of torture was brought. It was constantly usedto extract confession from the poor Covenanters during the long years ofpersecution of that black period of Scottish history. Peter's thumbswere placed in it and the screw was turned. The monsters increased thepressure by slow degrees, repeating the question at each turn of thescrew. At first Peter bore the pain unmoved, but at last it became soexcruciating that his cheeks and lips seemed to turn grey, and anappalling shriek burst from him at last.
Talk of devils! The history of the human race has proved that when menhave deliberately given themselves over to high-handed contempt of theirMaker there is not a devil among all the legions in hell who could beworse: he might be cleverer, he could not be more cruel. The onlyeffect of the shriek upon Glendinning was to cause him to order anotherturn of the screw.
Happily, at the moment the shriek was uttered Andrew Black arrived, and,finding the troop-horses picketed outside, with no one apparently toguard them, he looked in at the window and saw what was going on.
With a fierce roar of mingled horror, surprise, and rage, he sprang intothe room, and his huge fist fell on the brow of Glendinning like thehammer of Thor. His left shot full into the face of the man who hadworked the screws, and both troopers fell prone upon the floor with acrash that shook the building. The act was so quick, and sooverpoweringly violent that the other troopers were for a momentspellbound. That moment sufficed to enable Black to relieve the screwsand set Peter free.
"C'way oot, lad, after me!" cried Andrew, darting through the doorway,for he felt that without more space to fight he would be easilyoverpowered. The dragoons, recovering, darted after him. The farmercaught up a huge flail with which he was wont to thresh out his oats.It fell on the headpiece of the first trooper, causing it to ring likean anvil, and stretching its owner on the ground. The second trooperfared no better, but the head of the flail broke into splinters on hisiron cap, and left Andrew with the stump only to continue the combat.This, however, was no insignificant weapon, and the stout farmer laidabout him with such fierce rapidity as to check for a few moments theoverwhelming odds against him. Pistols would certainly have been usedhad not Glendinning, recovering his senses, staggered out and shouted,"Take him _alive_, men!" This was quickly done, for two troopers leapedon Andrew behind and pinioned his arms while he was engaged with four infront. The four sprang on him at the same instant. Even then AndrewBlack's broad back--which was unusually "up"--proved too strong forthem, for he made a sort of plunging somersault and carried the wholesix along with him to the ground. Before he could rise, however, moretroopers were on the top of him. Samson himself would have had tosuccumb to the dead weight. In a few seconds he was bound with ropesand led into the house. Ramblin' Peter had made a bold assault on adragoon at the beginning of the fray, but could do nothing with his poormaimed hands, and was easily secured.
"Let him taste the thumbscrews," growled Glendinning savagely, andpointing to Black.
"Dae yer warst, ye born deevil," said Black recklessly--for oppressiondriveth even a wise man mad.
"Very good--fetch the boot," said the sergeant.
The instrument of torture was brought and affixed to the farmer's rightleg; the wedge was inserted, and a blow of the mallet given.
Black's whole visage seemed to darken, his frowning brows met, and hislips were compressed with a force that meant endurance unto the death.
At that moment another party of dragoons under Captain Houston gallopedup, the captain entered, and, stopping the proceedings of hissubordinate, ordered Black and Peter to be set on horseback and boundtogether.
"Fire the place," he added. "If there are people in it anywhere, thatwill bring them out."
"Oh dear!" gasped Peter, "the hidy--"
"Wheesht, bairn," said Black in a low voice. "They're safe enough. Thefire'll no' touch them, an' besides, they're in the Lord's hands."
A few minutes more and the whole farm-steading was in flames. Thedragoons watched the work of destruction until the roof of the cottagefell in; then, mounting their horses, they descended to the road withthe two prisoners and turned their faces in the direction of Edinburgh.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
MORE THAN ONE NARROW ESCAPE.
One day, about a week after the burning of Black's farm, a selectdinner-party of red-hot rebels--as Government would have styled them;persecuted people as they called themselves--assembled in Mrs. Black'slittle ro
om in Candlemaker Row. Their looks showed that their meetingwas not for the purpose of enjoyment. The party consisted of Mrs.Black, Mrs. Wallace, who had reached Edinburgh in company with herbrother David Spence, Jean Black, Will Wallace, Quentin Dick, and JockBruce the blacksmith.
"But I canna understand, lassie," said Mrs. Black to Jean, "hoo yewerena a' roasted alive i' the hidy-hole, or suffocated at the best; an'hoo did ye ever get oot wi' the ruckle o' burning rafters abune ye?"
"It was easy enough," answered the girl, "for Uncle Andry made the roofo' the place uncommon thick, an' there's a short tunnel leadin' to somebushes by
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