Part 17

"We're drawing near Auldgirth," he said. "Beyond that we'll come to Closeburn, and no' lang after that we'll be snug hidden in a cave at Crichope Linn."

Soon we came to a bridge, with three arches spanning the brown river. Hector scrambled down through the bushes by the roadside and made his way under the nearest arch, and I followed him. A little grassy bank lay between the pier of the bridge and the water, and here we sat down. The packman unstrapped his wooden leg, and, with some groaning, for the process evidently caused him discomfort, removed his great shaggy beard.

"I'll bury my tree-leg here, for the time being, but the beard I'll tak' wi' me in my pooch. That's sufficient disguise for me: as for you, you'll be nane the waur o' a bit o' disguise as weel."

He took from his pack a pair of scissors, and set to work upon my beard and whiskers. As he did so, doubt assailed me and I called to him to stop. To be clean-shaven once again was to expose myself to more ready recognition, if it should ever be my lot to encounter one of my former companions among Lag's troopers.

"Ay, lad, ye're richt," said Hector. "I should ha'e thocht o' that mysel'. But never mind, I've no' done muckle damage yet. Were you clean-shaven when you were a trooper?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Weel," he said, "I'll do a bit o' fancy work on your face, and I'll leave your upper lip alane and wi' some o' my magical salve you can dress your moustachios to make you look like a Cavalier. Forby, I'll leave you a wee tuft on your chin, like the King. I'll warrant neither the folk that saw you in Dumfries wi' a fortnicht's growth on yer face, nor the troopers that kent ye as a clean-shaven man, will be likely to recognise you."

When he had finished his work he stood back and looked at me carefully, poising his head upon one side, and as was his wont half closing his left eye. He was evidently satisfied, for, with characteristic self-complacency, he said:

"Man, Hector, ye're a lad o' mony pairts."

Out of his pack he produced a small looking-glass of burnished steel and handed it to me. In the uncertain morning light the reflection of my face was not very distinct, but enough to show that my disguise was effective, for I hardly recognised myself.

"Come on," said Hector, swinging up his pack, and crossing the bridge we continued our journey.

The country had the glamour of early summer upon it. Every bush was crowned with a coronal of green: the fields were smiling with promise: the hill-sides were dimpling with sunny laughter, and the river, which now ran beside us, babbled cheerfully as it sped on its way to the sea.

After a few more miles we saw, in the distance, a long row of cottages flanking our way. Hector suddenly quitted the road, and, hidden behind a hedge, we made a long detour in order to avoid them.

"Yon," said he, "is the village o' Closeburn. The curate's a spy and a tyrant. It behoves us no' to be seen."

Making use of all the cover we could, and continuing our way till Closeburn was left behind, we came out upon a narrow and unfrequented road overshadowed by beech and oak trees. The air thrilled with the song of birds, and the spirit of the hour seemed to have descended upon the packman, for as we trudged along he whistled merrily. By and by we came to the edge of a wood. Just on its margin we crossed a rustic bridge which spanned a little brown rivulet that trickled sinuously in and out between its mossy banks. Following the line of the stream we entered the wood, Hector leading the way. The ground was a great carpet of luscious green, save where it was spangled over with beds of blue speedwell. The foliage of the trees--beech, oak and mountain ash, pine and fir--broke up the rays of sunlight and the air within the wood was delightfully cool. Our path led steadily up from the bed of the stream till it looked like an amber thread meandering through a gorge a hundred feet beneath us. Here and there its course was checked by a quiet pool, so still that one might think the stream had ceased to flow; and where some branch of a bush or tree touched the surface of the water it was garlanded with a ball of tawny froth from which little flakes broke away and studded the surface of the pool like scattered silver coins.

We penetrated deep into the wood--the stream chattering far below us--and at last Hector, half-turning, and saying earnestly "Tak' tent," began to clamber down the slope towards it. I followed, and in a few moments we had reached the edge of the water. Leaping from stone to stone, Hector led the way past a waterfall upon our left which, thin as veil of gossamer and iridescent in the sunlight, fell from an overhanging rock into the burn.

Just beyond us and to the right the stream issued from a defile. Above us, on both sides, the sandstone rocks towered, and looking up from the depths one could see the sky through the leafy screen of foliage that overshadowed us. Carefully choosing every footstep, we continued up the stream. The way, though difficult, seemed quite familiar to the packman.

Suddenly the great sandstone walls which flanked the stream began to close in upon us, rising sheer from the water edge. The stream thus confined into straiter bounds became a broiling torrent. To make progress we were compelled to bestride it, finding precarious foothold in little niches on the opposing walls. After a few more difficult steps the narrow defile widened out and we stood upon the edge of a great broad cup which was being steadily filled by an inrush of water through a gorge at its upper end similar to that along which we had come. In shape the cup was almost circular and looked like a huge misshapen bowl of earthenware. From its sides the sandstone cliffs rose almost perpendicularly, but a few feet above the water was a ledge broad enough to walk upon. It was a curious natural formation. The basin at our feet was deep, so deep that I could not see the bottom. The water leaped into it through the upper defile, churning its nearer edge into yellow froth; but the turbulence of the leaping stream swooned into quietness when it came under the spell of the still water that lay deep and impassive in the heart of the pool. Half-way round its circumference, poised on the ledge and heaped one upon another in seeming disorder, stood a pile of boulders. Hector seized one of them with both hands. He tugged at it vigorously and it moved, disclosing a cleft in the wall of the precipice through which a man might crawl.

"We're here at last," said Hector. "Doon on your hands and knees, and crawl in; there's naething to fear."

I did as he bade me, and, carefully feeling the way with my hands, thrust head and neck and shoulders into the aperture. After the light of the outer world the interior of the cave was impenetrably dark. Steadying myself with my hands, I proceeded to drag my body after me and was about to rise to my feet when suddenly something leaped upon me. A pair of hot hands closed upon my throat from behind and a great weight hurled itself upon my back. I tried to scream, but the lithe fingers gripped my neck and stifled me. There was a clamour in my head as though a thousand drums were rattling; lights danced before my eyes. Again I tried to scream, but my tongue hung helpless out of my mouth and I could hardly breathe. I struggled fiercely, but the hands that gripped my throat did not relax and suddenly I seemed to be falling through infinite space and then ceased to know anything. I remembered nothing until, at last, I felt somebody chafing my hands. Then out of the darkness I heard the voice of Hector say quite cheerfully:

"Ye'll do. Ye'll be a' richt in a minute or twa. Noo I maun ha'e a look at the minister."

"What has happened?" I asked, but Hector did not reply, so I raised myself and found him stooping over the body of another man lying not far from me.

"Thank God," he said, "I ha'ena killed him. His skull is evidently as soond as his doctrine, and that's sayin' a lot."

"Tell me what has happened?" I exclaimed. "Who is this man?"

"As far," said he, "as I can mak' oot by the licht o' these twa tallow candles, he is the Rev. Mr. Corsane, the ousted minister o' Minniehive. I canna exactly tell what happened afore I cam' into the cave, but juist as your feet were disappearing into the hole, they began to dance in the air, remindin' me o' the cantrips I ha'e seen a man perform when the hangman had him in haun'. I was at a sair loss to ken what ye micht be daein', and I was mair puzzled still when, just inside the cave, I heard a terrible struggling. Hooever, as ye weel ken, I'm nae coward, so in I crawled, wi' my auld frien' 'Trusty' in my kneive. Though it was awfu' dark, I could mak' oot twa men strugglin'. Ane o' them was astride the other and I judged that you were the nethermost. I shouted, the man that had you by the throat let ye go and flung himsel' on me. I caught him a dunt wi' the point o' my elbow juist ower his breist-bane. He reeled back, but when he got his breath he rushed at me again. By this time my e'en were better used to the darkness, so I up wi' 'Trusty' and gi'ed him a clout on the side o' the heid, and here he lies. Then I lichted the candles I had brocht wi' me, and found that he had gey near throttled you deid. By the look o' him I jaloused that he was the Rev. Mr. Corsane, and then the whole thing was plain to me. Maist likely he has been hidin' in this cave--a cave weel kent by the Covenanters--so when you cam' crawlin' in withoot word said or signal given, he maun ha'e thocht it was ane o' the dragoons and like a brave man he made up his mind to sell his life dearly. That's the story so far as I can mak' it oot and I ha'e nae doot it's the true ane.

"But I wish ye would lay your hand ower his heart and tell me I haena killed him, for I wouldna' like to ha'e the death o' sic a godly man on my conscience."

I did as I was requested and I was able to reassure the packman that the man's heart was beating regularly and strongly, although somewhat slowly.

"Thank God," he said fervently. "I'll see what my salve will dae for him," and he opened a pot of his ointment and proceeded to rub it gently into the lump which his stick had raised upon the minister's temple. The effect, however, was far from being immediate. The minister lay with lips half parted and eyes half open, breathing heavily, without signs of returning consciousness. Hector began to show signs of alarm.

"If," he said, "this was only a dragoon I wouldna worry: but this is a minister, a different breed o' man a' thegither. A clout that would dae nae mair than gie a dragoon a sair heid micht kill a minister. He maun be in a bad way if my salve winna revive him."

"Give him time," I said, "and let us see what cold water will do." Crawling out into the open, I leaned over the pool and, filling my bonnet with water, returned to the cave and sprinkled the minister's face copiously. I saw his eyelids flicker as the first cold drop touched his forehead, and a few minutes later he moved one of his hands.

"He's recovering," I said, and taking off my coat I folded it and placed it beneath his head. We waited in great anxiety, and by and by saw other signs of returning vitality. The better part of an hour had elapsed before the minister endeavoured to raise himself upon his elbow, an effort which we gently resisted. Immediately afterwards, with eyes staring up to the roof of the cave, he said:

"Where am I? What has happened?"

I motioned to Hector to reply.

"Oh, ye're a' richt, and we are frien's. Ha'e nae fear. Settle yoursel' doon, if ye can, for a sleep: and when you ha'e rested we'll tell you everything."

Without demur the minister closed his eyes again, and we were able to tell from his regular breathing that he had fallen asleep.

Hector rose, whispering behind his hand: "If you'll sit by the minister I'll close the door," and he crawled noiselessly through the aperture and returned, pushing his pack before him, and then closed the opening, cutting off the thin shaft of daylight that had been coming through it.

About an hour later the minister stirred in his sleep, and turning over upon his side opened his eyes and looked at me inquiringly. Hector produced the bottle of Malvoisie with which we had refreshed ourselves on the roadside, and held it to the minister's lips.

"This will refresh you," he said, and without protest he drank. He made some attempt to speak, but Hector forbade him. "No, no, sir, haud yer wheesht a wee langer. Dinna fash yoursel'. We are your frien's. Ha'e nae fear and settle yoursel' to sleep."

Like an obedient child, the minister did so.

The day passed and still the patient slept. By and by Hector went to the mouth of the cave and peered through one of the chinks between the rocks.

"The nicht has come," he said. "It's time we were bedded." Taking up the candle, he searched the floor of the cave. "Dae ye think," he asked, "we daur lift the minister? Here's his bed," and he pointed to a heap of withered brackens in a corner. I suggested that it might be an easier thing to carry his bed to the minister, and, stooping down, I gathered up an armful of the leaves, which I spread upon the floor beside him. So gently that he did not stir we lifted the minister on to it, and once more I slipped my folded coat under his head for a pillow. Hector drew off his coat and spread it over the minister's chest, then seizing a corner of his pack he pulled it up, scattering the contents in a jumbled heap on the floor, and spread the canvas covering over the lower part of the minister's body.

"That will keep him warm," he said. "Now you mak' your bed where ye will. I'll keep watch for the first pairt o' the nicht and I'll waken you by and by, and ye can tak' yer turn."

Worn out with the experiences of the previous night and day, I lay down not far off. My neck still ached from the strangling grip of the minister's fingers, and the floor of the cave was a hard bed. But I had lain in many strange places ere this and soon I was fast asleep. Once during the night I awoke and peering through the shadows could discern the figure of the minister on his bracken couch, and, with hands clasped round his bent knees, the packman sitting beside him. But I judged that my time had not yet come, for Hector made no sign and soon I was asleep again.

I awoke cold and stiff as though I had been beaten. Looking towards the doorway I could see a thin streak of light filtering through, and I knew that day had come. Hector still sat motionless: he had kept his vigil the whole night through.

I ventured to upbraid him because he had not kept his word and wakened me in the night to share the watch with him. He laughed.

"It was a kind o' penance," he said. "I ha'e twa things on my conscience that will want a lot o' expiation. _Imprimis_, I felled the minister; _secundo_, I gi'ed him some o' Lag's wine. In the nicht I've been thinkin' the second is the mair serious transgression. To godless men like you and me, Lag's wine could dae nae hairm, but hoo think ye the wine o' a persecutor will agree wi' the body o' a saint? As like as no it will turn to gall in his blood and dae him a peck o' hairm."

I laughed quietly. "You may set your mind at rest," I said. "The wine was good. Even though it came from Lag's cellar, it will do the Covenanter no harm."

While we were talking the minister began to move, and in a few seconds opened his eyes. In a moment Hector was bending over him.

"Hoo are ye this morning, sir?" he said. "I hope ye ha'e rested weel?"

The minister raised himself upon his elbow, and looked at Hector anxiously. "Thank you," he said, "I have had a good sleep, but my brain is in a strange whirl and my head is very sore. Have I been ill?"

"A' in good time, sir, a' in good time," said Hector, cheerfully. "You are in nae danger. By and by I'll tell ye a'. Meantime ye maun break yer fast."

The packman rose and going to a shelf of rock on which the candle stood picked up a bowl.

"Here, Bryden," he said. "I'll open the door if you crawl oot and fill this bowl at the linn."

He gripped the movable boulder and swung it round and I crawled out into the open air. The morning sky above me was fleecy with soft clouds; the air was full of melody; all the feathered world was awake. Thrush vied with blackbird, blackbird with linnet, and linnet with the far off tremulous lark. I stood on the little sandstone platform above the pool filling my lungs with great draughts of morning air. The haunting beauty of the place--the mystical and impenetrable depths of the pool, the tender foliage above me mirrored on its surface, the soft wind of the morning throbbing with melody--all conspired to cast a spell over me. But I woke from my dream as I remembered the stern realities that beset me. Leaning over I filled the bowl and returned with it to the cave. Hector had already laid out the morning meal, but at the moment a desire more urgent than hunger was upon me.

So I crawled once more into the open air and, quickly undressing, dived into the pool, and swam round it a dozen times. Greatly refreshed I was about to swing myself out, when I saw the shoulders of Hector protruding from the aperture in the wall. He shook his head and smiled at me, saying:

"You gi'ed me a terrible fricht. I heard the splash and thocht ye had fa'en in. Ye're a queer chiel; ye like cauld water a lot better than I do," and he drew his head back into the cave.

*CHAPTER XXXII*

*TOILERS OF THE NIGHT*

The rest and sleep of the night had done the minister good service; and though he still complained of considerable pain in the head and bore upon it the protuberant evidence of Hector's skill with his weapon, he was able to join in our conversation. In my absence Hector had told him who we were and what had happened. He had some difficulty in recognising Hector, beardless and lacking his tree-leg, but when the packman had salted his conversation with an apposite quotation from Horace, he had been compelled to admit his identity and had hailed him as an old friend.

Hector's surmise had been correct. The inhabitant of the cave was none other than Mr. Corsane, who, ousted from his charge and compelled to become a wanderer, had made it his headquarters through many a weary month. It was a hiding-place in which he could find shelter alike from the blasts of the storm and from the persecutors. Driven from his manse, his church and his parish, a man with a price upon his head, he did not remain in this cave from week's end to week's end, a craven fugitive. Constantly he had ventured out. Did sickness or sorrow visit one of the homes of his little flock, he was instant in succour, ready to bring to them at all times the spiritual help and consolation for which they looked to him. Wherefore, though he was a minister without a charge, he was not a minister without a people.

When the meal was over I besought Hector to lie down and rest; and being satisfied that the minister was now out of danger, he needed no second bidding.

The weeks and months that followed were full of interest and occupation. As always, in the annals of persecution, an hour had come when the malignity of the tyrants reached its zenith. In a wild endeavour to break the spirit of the persecuted, they applied themselves with increased fury and devilish ingenuity to render the lives of their victims intolerable.

So it came to pass that more and more of the men in the parishes round about us were driven to forsake their homes and take to the moors or the hiding-places among the hills. Little cared the persecutors if the land that should have laughed with rich crops sank into desolation since none were left to cultivate it. The malevolence of the oppressors gave Hector and myself many opportunities of service. By stratagem, and sometimes by force, at great risk, and often after lively encounters, we rescued more than one good man and true from the clutches of the troopers and spirited him away in the dead of night to a safe hiding-place. I may not here set down these high adventures. Some other pen than mine may record them. But for the greater part our deeds were works of peace. All through the months of summer we would steal out from the cave when the twilight came and, making for some farm whose good man had been compelled to flee, we would spend the hours of the night in performing those tasks in the fields which, but for us, would have been left undone.

Toiling all night through, we would steal back to the sanctuary of our cave in the grey dawn, tired, but proudly conscious that we had done something to ease the burden which was weighing upon the heart of some desolate woman. We cut the clover, we mowed the hay, we left it for a day or two to dry and then stacked it into little cocks upon the field, and when the time came, we sheared the sheep and did those thousand and one things that a husbandman does in their due season. We were careful not to be seen, though always when the night was at its darkest, Hector would make his way to the farmhouse or cottage nearest the field in which we were at work and almost invariably he would find upon the window-sill a store of food left for us. For, though the children and the superstitious might imagine that the mysterious labourers in the fields were creatures from another world who accomplished heavy tasks with the wave of a magic wand, the good-wife of the house had more than a shrewd suspicion that they were creatures of flesh and blood who toiled with the sweat on their brows and who had appetites that required satisfaction.

Nor did we confine our work to the farms near our hiding-place. In the course of his wanderings among his flock, the minister would, now and then, hear of a farm more remote that needed our care, and many a night we walked for miles before we reached the fields where our self-appointed tasks lay. I felt, as Hector did, that in this service we were doing something to help the Cause of the Covenant. And as honest work ever offers to a man the best antidote to sorrow, my heart began to be filled with a great contentment. Mary was lost to me. That thought and the sense of desolation which it provoked was ever before me, but my labours for the persecuted were some token of the love I had borne her and I knew that she would understand.

Sometimes, in the darkness, when my back ached beyond endurance as I bent over some unaccustomed task, I would cease for a moment to feel for that little bit of metal lying over my heart that was all that remained of the ring I had given her. And its touch would give me courage and my weariness would disappear.