LITMIR.BIZ

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stop, callant!” exclaimed Andrew, as Will was about to renew the struggle. “The pride o’ youth is awful. Hear what I’ve gotten to say to ye, man, or I’ll hae to throttle ye ootright. It’ll come to the same thing if ye’ll alloo me to tie ane o’ my hands to ane o’ yours. Ye canna objec’ to that, surely, for I’ll be your prisoner as muckle as you’ll be mine—and that’ll be fair play, for we’ll leave the swurd lyin’ on the brae to keep the bit stick company.”

      “Well, I agree to that,” said Wallace, in a tone that indicated surprise with a dash of amusement.

      “An’ ye promise no’ to try to get away when you’re tied to—when I’m tied to you?”

      “I promise.”

      Hereupon the farmer, reaching out his hand, picked up the black silk neckcloth which he had laid aside, and with it firmly bound his own left wrist to the right wrist of his captive, talking in a grave, subdued tone as he did so.

      “Nae doot the promise o’ a spy is hardly to be lippened to, but if I find that ye’re a dishonourable man, ye’ll find that I’m an uncomfortable prisoner to be tied to. Noo, git up, lad, an’ we’ll gang hame thegither.”

      On rising, the first thing the trooper did was to turn and take a steady look at the man who had captured him in this singular manner.

      “Weel, what d’ye think o’ me?” asked Andrew, with what may be termed a grave smile.

      “If you want to know my true opinion,” returned Wallace, “I should say that I would not have thought, from the look of you, that you could have taken mean advantage of a sleeping foe.”

      “Ay—an’ I would not have thought, from the look o’ you,” retorted Andrew, “that ye could hae sell’t yersel’ to gang skulkin’ aboot the hills as a spy upon the puir craters that are only seekin’ to worship their Maker in peace.”

      Without further remark Andrew Black, leaving his coat and plaid to keep company with the sword and stick, led his prisoner down the hill.

      Andrew’s cottage occupied a slight hollow on the hillside, which concealed it from every point of the compass save the high ground above it. Leading the trooper up to the door, he tapped gently, and was promptly admitted by some one whom Wallace could not discern, as the interior was dark.

      “Oh, Uncle Andrew! I’m glad ye’ve come, for Peter hasna come back yet, an’ I’m feared somethin’ has come ower him.”

      “Strike a light, lassie. I’ve gotten haud o’ a spy here, an’ canna weel do’t mysel’.”

      When a light was procured and held up, it revealed the pretty face of Jean Black, which underwent a wondrous change when she beheld the face of the prisoner.

      “Uncle Andrew!” she exclaimed, “this is nae spy. He’s the man that cam’ to the help o’ Aggie an’ me against the dragoon.”

      “Is that sae?” said Black, turning a look of surprise on his prisoner.

      “It is true, indeed, that I had the good fortune to protect Jean and her friend from an insolent comrade,” answered Wallace; “and it is also true that that act has been partly the cause of my deserting to the hills, being starved for a day and a night, and taken prisoner now as a spy.”

      “Sir,” said Andrew, hastily untying the kerchief that bound them together, “I humbly ask your pardon. Moreover, it’s my opeenion that if ye hadna been starvin’ ye wadna have been here ’e noo, for ye’re uncommon teuch. Rin, lassie, an’ fetch some breed an’ cheese. Whar’s Marion an’ Is’b’l?”

      “They went out to seek for Peter,” said Jean, as she hastened to obey her uncle’s mandate.

      At that moment a loud knocking was heard at the door, and the voice of Marion, one of the maid-servants, was heard outside. On the door being opened, she and her companion Isabel burst in with excited looks and the information, pantingly given, that the “sodgers were comin’.”

      “Haud yer noise, lassie, an’ licht the fire—pit on the parritch pat. Come, Peter, let’s hear a’ aboot it.”

      Ramblin’ Peter, who had been thus named because of his inveterate tendency to range over the neighbouring hills, was a quiet, undersized, said-to-be weak-minded boy of sixteen years, though he looked little more than fourteen. No excitement whatever ruffled his placid countenance as he gave his report—to the effect that a party of dragoons had been seen by him not half an hour before, searching evidently for his master’s cottage.

      “They’ll soon find it,” said the farmer, turning quickly to his domestics— “Away wi’ ye, lassies, and hide.”

      The two servant-girls, with Jean and her cousin Aggie Wilson, ran at once into an inner room and shut the door. Ramblin’ Peter sat stolidly down beside the fire and calmly stirred the porridge-pot, which was nearly full of the substantial Scottish fare.

      “Noo, sir,” said Black, turning to Will Wallace, who had stood quietly watching the various actors in the scene just described, “yer comrades’ll be here in a wee while. May I ask what ye expect?”

      “I expect to be imprisoned at the least, more probably shot.”

      “Hm! pleasant expectations for a young man, nae doot. I’m sorry that it’s oot o’ my power to stop an’ see the fun, for the sodgers have strange suspicions aboot me, so I’m forced to mak’ mysel’ scarce an’ leave Ramblin’ Peter to do the hospitalities o’ the hoose. But before I gang awa’ I wad fain repay ye for the guid turn ye did to my bairns. If ye are willin’ to shut yer eyes an’ do what I tell ye, I’ll put you in a place o’ safety.”

      “Thank you, Mr Black,” returned Wallace; “of course I shall only be too glad to escape from the consequences of my unfortunate position; but do not misunderstand me: although neither a spy nor a Covenantor I am a loyal subject, and would not now be a deserter if that character had not been forced upon me, first by the brutality of the soldiers with whom I was banded, and then by the insolence of my comrade-in-arms to your daughter—”

      “Niece; niece,” interrupted Black; “I wish she was my dauchter, bless her bonny face! Niver fear, sir, I’ve nae doot o’ yer loyalty, though you an’ yer freends misdoot mine. I claim to be as loyal as the best o’ ye, but there’s nae dictionary in this warld that defines loyalty to be slavish submission o’ body an’ sowl to a tyrant that fears naether God nor man. The quastion noo is, Div ye want to escape and wull ye trust me?”

      The sound of horses galloping in the distance tended to quicken the young trooper’s decision. He submitted to be blindfolded by his captor.

      “Noo, Peter,” said Andrew, as he was about to lead Wallace away, “ye ken what to dae. Gie them plenty to eat; show them the rum bottle, let them hae the rin o’ the hoose, an’ say that I bade ye treat them weel.”

      “Ay,” was Ramblin’ Peter’s laconic reply.

      Leading his captive out at the door, round the house, and re-entering by a back door, apparently with no other end in view than to bewilder him, Andrew went into a dark room, opened some sort of door—to enter which the trooper had to stoop low—and conducted him down a steep, narrow staircase.

      The horsemen meanwhile had found the cottage and were heard at that moment tramping about in front, and thundering on the door for admittance.

      Wallace fancied that the door which closed behind him must be of amazing thickness, for it shut out almost completely the sounds referred to.

      On reaching the foot of the staircase, and having the napkin removed from his eyes, he found himself in a long, low, vaulted chamber. There was no one in it save his guide and a venerable man who sat beside a deal table, reading a document by the light of a tallow candle stuck in the mouth of a black bottle.

      The soldiers, meanwhile, having been admitted by Ramblin’ Peter, proceeded to question that worthy as to Andrew Black and his household. Not being satisfied of the truth of his replies

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