The Complete Novels of Robert Louis Stevenson (Illustrated) - Robert Louis Stevenson

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the time I came back Alan must have told his story; for it seemed understood that I was to fly with him, and they were all busy upon our equipment. They gave us each a sword and pistols, though I professed my inability to use the former; and with these, and some ammunition, a bag of oatmeal, an iron pan, and a bottle of right French brandy, we were ready for the heather. Money, indeed, was lacking. I had about two guineas left; Alan’s belt having been despatched by another hand, that trusty messenger had no more than seventeen-pence to his whole fortune; and as for James, it appears he had brought himself so low with journeys to Edinburgh and legal expenses on behalf of the tenants, that he could only scrape together three-and-fivepence-halfpenny, the most of it in coppers.

      “This’ll no do,” said Alan.

      “Ye must find a safe bit somewhere near by,” said James, “and get word sent to me. Ye see, ye’ll have to get this business prettily off, Alan. This is no time to be stayed for a guinea or two. They’re sure to get wind of ye, sure to seek ye, and by my way of it, sure to lay on ye the wyte of this day’s accident. If it falls on you, it falls on me that am your near kinsman and harboured ye while ye were in the country. And if it comes on me — —” he paused, and bit his fingers, with a white face. “It would be a painful thing for our friends if I was to hang,” said he.

      “It would be an ill day for Appin,” says Alan.

      “It’s a day that sticks in my throat,” said James. “O man, man, man — man Alan! you and me have spoken like two fools!” he cried, striking his hand upon the wall so that the house rang again.

      “Well, and that’s true, too,” said Alan; “and my friend from the Lowlands here” (nodding at me) “gave me a good word upon that head, if I would only have listened to him.”

      He spoke with a pleading earnestness, taking Alan by the breast of the coat.

      “Ay” said Alan, “I see that.”

      “And ye’ll have to be clear of the country, Alan — ay, and clear of Scotland — you and your friend from the Lowlands, too. For I’ll have to paper your friend from the Lowlands. Ye see that, Alan — say that ye see that!”

      I thought Alan flushed a bit. “This is unco hard on me that brought him here, James,” said he, throwing his head back. “It’s like making me a traitor!”

      “Now, Alan, man!” cried James. “Look things in the face! He’ll be papered anyway; Mungo Campbell’ll be sure to paper him; what matters if I paper him too? And then, Alan, I am a man that has a family.” And then, after a little pause on both sides, “And, Alan, it’ll be a jury of Campbells,” said he.

      “There’s one thing,” said Alan, musingly, “that naebody kens his name.”

      “Nor yet they shallnae, Alan! There’s my hand on that,” cried James, for all the world as if he had really known my name and was foregoing some advantage. “But just the habit he was in, and what he looked like, and his age, and the like? I couldnae well do less.”

      “I wonder at your father’s son,” cried Alan, sternly. “Would ye sell the lad with a gift? Would ye change his clothes and then betray him?”

      “No, no, Alan,” said James. “No, no: the habit he took off — the habit Mungo saw him in.” But I thought he seemed crestfallen; indeed, he was clutching at every straw, and all the time, I dare say, saw the faces of his hereditary foes on the bench, and in the jury-box, and the gallows in the background.

      “Well, sir” says Alan, turning to me, “what say ye to, that? Ye are here under the safeguard of my honour; and it’s my part to see nothing done but what shall please you.”

      “I have but one word to say,” said I; “for to all this dispute I am a perfect stranger. But the plain common-sense is to set the blame where it belongs, and that is on the man who fired the shot. Paper him, as ye call it, set the hunt on him; and let honest, innocent folk show their faces in safety.” But at this both Alan and James cried out in horror; bidding me hold my tongue, for that was not to be thought of; and asking me what the Camerons would think? (which confirmed me, it must have been a Cameron from Mamore that did the act) and if I did not see that the lad might be caught? “Ye havenae surely thought of that?” said they, with such innocent earnestness, that my hands dropped at my side and I despaired of argument.

      “Very well, then,” said I, “paper me, if you please, paper Alan, paper King George! We’re all three innocent, and that seems to be what’s wanted. But at least, sir,” said I to James, recovering from my little fit of annoyance, “I am Alan’s friend, and if I can be helpful to friends of his, I will not stumble at the risk.”

      I thought it best to put a fair face on my consent, for I saw Alan troubled; and, besides (thinks I to myself), as soon as my back is turned, they will paper me, as they call it, whether I consent or not. But in this I saw I was wrong; for I had no sooner said the words, than Mrs. Stewart leaped out of her chair, came running over to us, and wept first upon my neck and then on Alan’s, blessing God for our goodness to her family.

      “As for you, Alan, it was no more than your bounden duty,” she said. “But for this lad that has come here and seen us at our worst, and seen the goodman fleeching like a suitor, him that by rights should give his commands like any king — as for you, my lad,” she says, “my heart is wae not to have your name, but I have your face; and as long as my heart beats under my bosom, I will keep it, and think of it, and bless it.” And with that she kissed me, and burst once more into such sobbing, that I stood abashed.

      Thereupon we said farewell, and set out again, bending somewhat eastwards, in a fine mild dark night, and over much the same broken country as before.

      Chapter XX

       The Flight in the Heather: The Rocks

       Table of Contents

      Sometimes we walked, sometimes ran; and as it drew on to morning, walked ever the less and ran the more. Though, upon its face, that country appeared to be a desert, yet there were huts and houses of the people, of which we must have passed more than twenty, hidden in quiet places of the hills. When we came to one of these, Alan would leave me in the way, and go himself and rap upon the side of the house and speak awhile at the window with some sleeper awakened. This was to pass the news; which, in that country, was so much of a duty that Alan must pause to attend to it even while fleeing for his life; and so well attended to by others, that in more than half of the houses where we

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