| copyright, Kellscraft
(Return to Web Text-ures)
Click Here to return to
Click Here to return to
the previous section
THE HOUSE OF FEAR
Night fell as we were walking, and the clouds, which had broken up in the afternoon, settled in and thickened, so that it fell, for the season of the year, extremely dark. The way we went was over rough mountainsides; and though Alan pushed on with an assured manner, I could by no means see how he directed himself.
At last, about half-past ten of the
clock, we came to
the top of a brae, and saw lights below us.
It seemed a house door stood open and let out a beam
of fire and
candle-light; and all round the house and steading five or six persons
moving hurriedly about, each carrying a lighted brand.
"James must have tint his wits," said Alan. "If this was the soldiers instead of you and me, he would be in a bonny mess. But I dare say he'll have a sentry on the road, and he would ken well enough no soldiers would find the way that we came."
Hereupon he whistled three times,
in a particular
manner. It was strange to see how, at the first sound of it, all the
torches came to a stand, as if the bearers were affrighted; and how, at
third, the bustle began again as before.
Having thus set folks' minds at
rest, we came down
the brae, and were met at the yard gate (for this place was like a
farm) by a tall, handsome man of more than fifty, who cried out to Alan
"James Stewart," said Alan, "I will
ask ye to speak in Scotch, for here is a young gentleman with me that
of the other. This is him," he added, putting his arm through mine, "a
young gentleman of the Lowlands, and a laird in his country too, but I
thinking it will be the better for his health if we give his name the
James of the Glens turned to me for a moment, and greeted me courteously enough; the next he had turned to Alan.
"This has been a dreadful
cried. "It will
on the country." And he wrung his hands.
"Hoots!" said Alan, "ye must take the sour with the sweet, man. Colin Roy is dead, and be thankful for that!"
"Ay" said James, "and by my troth,
wish he was alive again! It's all very fine to blow and boast
now it's done, Alan; and who's to bear the wyte
of it? The accident fell out in Appin — mind ye that, Alan; it's Appin
must pay; and I am a man that has a family."
While this was going on I looked
about me at the
servants. Some were
digging in the thatch of the house or the farm buildings, from which
brought out guns, swords, and different weapons of war; others carried
away; and by the sound of mattock blows from somewhere farther down the
suppose they buried them. Though
they were all so busy, there prevailed no kind of order in their
struggled together for the same gun and ran into each other with their
torches; and James was continually turning about from his talk with
Alan, to cry
out orders which were apparently never understood.
The faces in the torchlight were like those of
people overborne with
hurry and panic; and though none spoke above his breath, their speech
both anxious and angry.
It was about this time that a lassie came out of the house carrying a pack or bundle; and it has often made me smile to think how Alan's instinct awoke at the mere sight of it.
"What's that the lassie has?" he asked.
"We're just setting the house in
Alan," said James, in his frightened and somewhat fawning way.
"They'll search Appin with candles, and we must have
digging the bit
guns and swords into the moss, ye see; and these, I am thinking, will
ain French clothes. We'll
bury them, I believe."
"Bury my French clothes!" cried
"Troth, no!" And
he laid hold upon the packet and retired into the barn to shift
recommending me in the meanwhile to his kinsman.
James carried me accordingly into the kitchen, and sat down with me at table, smiling and talking at first in a very hospitable manner. But presently the gloom returned upon him; he sat frowning and biting his fingers; only remembered me from time to time; and then gave me but a word or two and a poor smile, and back into his private terrors. His wife sat by the fire and wept, with her face in her hands; his eldest son was crouched upon the floor, running over a great mass of papers and now and again setting one alight and burning it to the bitter end; all the while a servant lass with a red face was rummaging about the room, in a blind hurry of fear, and whimpering as she went; and every now and again one of the men would thrust in his face from the yard, and cry for orders.
At last James could keep his seat
no longer, and
begged my permission to be so unmannerly as walk about.
"I am but poor company altogether, sir," says he,
can think of nothing but this dreadful accident, and the trouble it is
bring upon quite innocent persons."
A little after he observed his son burning a paper which he thought should have been kept; and at that his excitement burst out so that it was painful to witness. He struck the lad repeatedly.
"Are you gone gyte?"
he cried. "Do you wish to hang your father?" and forgetful of my
presence, carried on at him a long time together in the Gaelic, the
answering nothing; only the wife, at the name of hanging, throwing her
over her face and sobbing out louder than before.
This was all wretched for a
stranger like myself to
hear and see; and I was right glad when Alan returned, looking like
his fine French clothes, though (to be sure) they were now grown almost
battered and withered to deserve the name of fine.
I was then taken out in my turn by another of the
given that change of clothing of which I had stood so long in need, and
of Highland brogues made of deer-leather, rather strange at first, but
little practice very easy to the feet.
By 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-five-pence-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,"
"It's a day that sticks in my
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
"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."
"But see here," said James, returning to his former manner, "if they lay me by the heels, Alan, it's then that you'll be needing the money. For with all that I have said and that you have said, it will look very black against the two of us; do ye mark that? Well, follow me out, and ye'll, I'll see that I'll have to get a paper out against ye mysel'; have to offer a reward for ye; ay, will I! It's a sore thing to do between such near friends; but if I get the dirdum of this dreadful accident, I'll have to fend for myself, man. Do ye see that?"
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!
be papered anyway; Mungo Campbell'll be sure to paper him; what matters
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
Campbells," said he.
"There's one thing," said Alan,
"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
was foregoing some advantage. "But
just the habit he was in, and what he looked like, and his age, and the
couldnae well do less."
"I wonder at your father's son,"
Alan, sternly. "Would
the lad with a gift? Would
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
"what say ye to, that? Ye
here under the safeguard of my honour; and it's my part to see nothing
what shall please you."
"I have but one word to say," said
"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.
him, as ye call it, set the hunt on him; and let honest, innocent folk
their faces in safety." But
this both Alan and James cried out in horror; bidding me hold my
that was not to be thought of; and asking me what the Camerons would
(which confirmed me, it must have been a Cameron from Mamore that did
and if I did not see that the lad might be caught?
"Ye havenae surely thought of that?" said they, with
innocent earnestness, that my hands dropped at my side and I despaired
"Very well, then," said I, "paper
if you please, paper Alan, paper King George!
We're all three innocent, and that seems to be
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
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.
"Hoot, hoot," said Alan, looking
silly. "The day comes unco soon in this month of July; and to-morrow
there'll be a fine to-do in Appin, a fine riding of dragoons, and
crying of 'Cruachan!'
and running of red-coats; and it behoves you and me
to the sooner be
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.Kidnapped