[Contents]CHAPTER XXVII.Another Night Attack—A Desperate Encounter.“By what miracle, good mine host,” said Sir Patrick Hepborne to Master Duncan MacErchar—“by what miracle do I see thee in this wilderness, so far from thine own dwelling?”“Uch! uch! miracle truly, miracle truly, that she’s brought here; for who could have thought that the false faitours and traitrous loons would have led her honour this round-about gate, that they might knock out her brains at the Shelter Stone of Loch Avon? An it had not been for Donald and Angus, her two cushins, that hunts the hills, and kens all the roads of these scoundrels, she would never have thought of coming round about over the very shoulders of the mountains to seek after them. But—uve! uve!—where’s the t’other rascals? and where’s her honour’s men and beasts?”Hepborne explained the cause and circumstances of their separation.“Uch! uch!” cried MacErchar; “uve! uve!—then, Holy St. Barnabas, I wish that the t’others scoundrels may not have them after all; so she shall have more miles to travel, and another villains to stickit yet! uve! uve!”And then changing his tongue, he began with great volubility to address, in his own language, his cousins, who now appeared. They replied to him in the same dialect, and then he seemed to tell them the particulars of the late adventure, for he pointed to the dead body of the ruffian on the ground, while his actions corresponded with the tale he was telling, and seemed to be explanatory of it. The two men held up their hands, and listened with open mouths to his narration. He then took up a flaming brand from the fire, and, followed by his two cousins, proceeded to explore the passage leading into the chamber of the Shelter Stone, whence they soon returned with the burden of wolf-skins which the ruffian guide had carried. Duncan MacErchar threw it down on the ground near the fire, and as it fell—“Troth,” said he, with a joyful expression of countenance—“troth but she jingles; she’ll swarrants there be’s something in her. Sure! sure!”[199]With this he went on his knees, and began eagerly to undo the numerous fastenings of hide-thongs which tied the wolf-skins together, and which, as Hepborne himself had noticed, had been closely bound up ever since they started in the morning, though the other guide carried his hanging loose, as both had done the night before. The knots were reticulated and decussated in such a manner as to afford no bad idea of that of Gordius.“Hoof!” said Master MacErchar impatiently, after working at them with his nails for some minutes without the least effect; “sorrow be in their fingers that tied her; though troth she needs not say that now,” added he in parenthesis. “Poof! that will not do neither; but sorrow be in her an she’ll not settle her; she’ll do for her, or she’ll wonders at her.” And, unsheathing his dirk, he ripped up the fastenings, wolf-skins and all, and, to the astonishment of Hepborne, rolled out from their pregnant womb the whole of the glittering valuables, the fruit of his English campaigns.“Och, oich!” cried MacErchar with a joyful countenance, forgetting everything in the delight he felt at recovering his treasure—“och, ay! blessings on her braw siller stoup, and blessings on her bony mazers; she be’s all here. Ay, ay!—och, oich!—ou ay, every one.”The mystery of Master Duncan MacErchar’s hasty journey and unlooked-for appearance at Loch Avon was now explained. His sharp-eared cousin, Angus MacErchar, had been loitering about the door at the time of the departure of the knight and his attendants in the morning, and had heard something clinking in the Celt’s bundle of wolf-skins as he passed, but seeing no cause to suspect anything wrong, as regarded his kinsman’s goods, he neglected to notice the circumstance until some time after they were gone, when he happened to mention, rather accidentally than otherwise, that he thought the rogues had been thieving somewhere, for he had heard the noise of metal pots in the bundle of one of them. Duncan MacErchar took immediate alarm. Without saying a word, he ran to his secret deposit, and having removed the heap of billets and the wattle trap-door, discovered with horror and dismay that his treasures were gone. It was some small comfort to him that they had not found it convenient to carry away what he most valued; and he bestowed a friendly kiss upon the black bugle, and the swords and daggers that were still there; but the whole of the silver vessels were stolen. What was to be done? He was compelled to tell his cousins of his afflicting loss, that he might consult them as to what steps were to be taken. They[200]advised instant pursuit; but well knowing the men and their habits, they felt persuaded that the thieves would carefully avoid the most direct path, and guessed that, in order to mislead their pursuers, they would likely take the circuitous and fatiguing mountain-route by Loch Avon. Taking the advice and assistance of his cousins, therefore, Master Duncan MacErchar set off hot foot after the rogues, and he was soon convinced of the sagacity of his cousins’ counsels, for they frequently came upon the track of the party where the ground was soft, or wet enough to receive the prints of the horses’ feet; and when they came to the ridge of the mountains, they traced them easily and expeditiously over the hardened snow. It was dark ere they reached the brink of the precipice overhanging the lake; but Angus and Donald were now aware of their probable destination, and the fire they saw burning near the Shelter Stone made them resolve to visit it in the first place. They lost no time in descending, the two lads being well acquainted with the dangerous path; and no sooner had Master Duncan MacErchar set his foot in the glen, than, eager to get at the thief, he ran on before his companions. And lucky was it, as we have seen, that he did so; for if he had been but a few minutes later, both Sir Patrick Hepborne and Maurice de Grey must have been murdered by the villain whom he slew.Hepborne now became extremely anxious about the safety of the party under the guidance of the other ruffian. For the attack of one man against so many he had nothing to fear; but he dreaded the possibility of the traitor escaping from them before he had conducted them to their destined place of halt for the night, and so leaving them helpless on the wild and pathless mountain to perish of cold. He had nothing for it, however, but to comfort himself with his knowledge of Sang’s sagacity and presence of mind.Master Duncan MacErchar, with his two cousins, now hastened to cut off a supper for themselves from the bison beef, which they quickly broiled; and, after their hunger had been appeased, the whole party began to think of bestowing themselves to enjoy a short repose. Before doing so, however, Hepborne proposed that they should bury the dead body. This was accordingly done, and from the debris of the fallen rocks a cairn was heaped upon it, sufficiently large to prevent the wolves from attacking it.The page, wrapped in his mantle, was already sound asleep within the snug chamber of the Shelter Stone, and Sir Patrick lost no time in seeking rest in the same comfortable quarters;[201]but the three hardy Highlanders, preferring the open air, rolled themselves up, each in his web of plaiding, and then laid themselves in different places, under the projecting base of the enormous fallen rock, and all were soon buried in refreshing slumber.It happened, however, that Duncan MacErchar had by accident chosen the spot nearest the passage of entrance. The fire had fallen so low as to leave only the red glow of charcoal; but the night, which was already far spent, was partially illuminated by the light of the moon, which had now arisen, though not yet high enough to show its orb to those in the bottom of the glen. He was suddenly awakened by a footstep near him, and, looking up, beheld a dark figure approaching. With wonderful presence of mind, he demanded, in a low whisper, and in his native language, who went there, and was immediately answered by the voice of the other guide, who had gone forward with Hepborne’s party, and who, mistaking MacErchar for his companion in iniquity, held the following dialogue with him, here translated into English.“Hast thou done it, Cormack?”“Nay,” replied Duncan, “it is but now they are gone to sleep, and I fear they are not yet sound enough. What hast thou done with the party of men and their horses?”“I left them all safe at the bothy,” replied the other, “and if we had this job finished, we might go that way, and carry off two or three of the best of their horses and trappings while they are asleep, and we can kill the others, to prevent any of them from having the means of following us when they awake. But come, why should we delay now?—they must be asleep ere this; let us in on them—creep towards them on our knees, and stab them without noise: then all their booty is our own.”“You foul murderer!” cried Duncan MacErchar, springing at him, his right hand extended with the intention of making him prisoner. The astonished ruffian stepped back a pace, as Duncan rushed upon him, and seizing his outstretched hand, endeavoured to keep him at a distance. Both drew their dirks, and a furious struggle ensued. Each endeavoured to keep off the other, with outstretched arm, and powerful exertion, yet each was desirous to avail himself of the first favourable chance that might offer, and to bury the lethal weapon he brandished in the bosom of his antagonist. The ruffian had the decided advantage, for it was his right hand that was free, while MacErchar held his dirk with his left. They tugged, and pushed stoutly against each other, and each alternately[202]made a vain effort to strike his opponent. The brave MacErchar might have easily called for help, but he scorned to seek aid against any single man. They still struggled, frequently shifting their ground by the violence of their exertions, yet neither gaining the least advantage over the other, when, all at once, MacErchar found himself attacked behind by a new and very formidable enemy. This was one of the great rough wolf-dogs, which, having come up at that moment, and observed his master struggling with Duncan, sprang upon his back, and seized him by the right shoulder. The ruffian, seeing himself supported, and thinking that the victory was now entirely in his hands, bent his elbow so as to permit him to close upon his adversary, and made an attempt to stab MacErchar in the breast; but the sturdy and undaunted hero, in defiance of the pain he experienced from the bites of the dog, raised his left arm, and after receiving the stab in the fleshy part of it, instantly returned it into the very heart of his enemy, who, uttering a single groan, fell dead upon the spot. But the dog still kept his hold, until MacErchar, putting his hand backwards, drove the dirk two or three times into his body, and shook him off dead upon the lifeless corpse of his master.“Heich!” cried he, very much toil-spent—“Foof!—Donald—Angus—Uve, uve!—Won’t they be hearing her?”His two cousins, who had been fast asleep at the end of the Shelter Stone, now came hastily round, making a great noise, which roused Sir Patrick, who instantly seized his sword, and rushed out to ascertain what the alarm was.“Oich, oich!” continued Duncan, much fatigued, “oich! and sure she has had a hard tuilzie o’t!”“What, in the name of the blessed Virgin, has happened?” cried Hepborne, eagerly.“Fu! nothing after all,” cried Duncan, “nothing—only that t’other villains came up here from t’others end of the loch, and wanted to murder Sir Patrick and his page; and so she grabbled at her, and had a sore tuilzie with her, and sure she hath stickit her dead at last. But—uve! uve!—she was near worried with her mockell dog; she settled her too, though, and yonder they are both lying dead together. But troth she must go and get some sleep now, and she hopes that she’ll have no more disturbance, wi’ a sorrow to them.”“But, my good friend,” said the knight, “thine arm bleeds profusely, better have it tied up; nay, thy shoulder seems to be torn too.”“Fu, poof!” said MacErchar carelessly, “her arm be’s naething[203]but a scart; she has had worse before from a thorn bush; and her shoulder is but a nip, that will be well or the morn.”So saying, he wrapped his plaid around him, and rolling himself under the base of the stone where he had lain before, he composed himself to sleep again, and the others followed his example. The knight also retired to his singular bed-chamber, and all were very soon quiet.As MacErchar had hoped, they lay undisturbed until daybreak, when they arose, shook themselves, and were soon joined by Hepborne from within. The sun had just appeared above the eastern mountain-tops, and was pouring a flood of glory down among the savage scenery of the glen. MacErchar and his two cousins were busily engaged in renovating the fire; and as Sir Patrick was about to join them, his ears were attracted by the low moans of a dog, which, beginning at the bottom of the scale of his voice, gradually ascended through its whole compass, and ended in a prolonged howl. He cast his eyes towards the spot whence it proceeded—there lay the dead body of the ruffian murderer with the dog that died with him in his defence stretched across him stiff; and by his side sat two more of the dogs, that, having followed some chase as he came up the glen, had not fallen upon his track again until early in the morning, and had but just traced it out, when it brought them to his inanimate corpse. There they sat howling incessantly over him, alternately licking his face, his hands, and his death-wound. Their howl was returned from the surrounding rocks, but it was also answered from no great distance; and on going round the end of the Shelter Stone, he beheld another dog sitting on the top of the cairn they had piled over the dead body of the first man who was killed, scraping earnestly with his feet, and moaning and howling in unison with the two others. Hepborne went towards him, and did all he could to coax him away from the spot; but the attached and afflicted creature would not move. The howling continued, and would have been melancholy enough in any situation; but in a spot so savage and lonely, and prolonged as it was by the surrounding echoes, it increased the dismal and dreary effect of the scenery. Hepborne called the MacErchars, and proposed to them that they should bury the dead body which lay exposed on the ground. They readily assented, and approached it for the purpose of lifting and carrying it to the same spot where they had deposited the other; but Angus and Donald had no sooner attempted to lay hold of it, than both the dogs flew at them, and they were glad to relinquish the attempt, seeing they could[204]carry it into effect by no other means than that of killing the two faithful animals in the first place, and this Hepborne would on no account permit.“Verily he was a foul traitorous murderer,” said the knight; “but he was their master. His hand was kind and merciful to them, whatever it might have been to others. Of a truth, a faithful dog is the only friend who seeth not a fault in him to whom he is attached. Poor fellows! let them not be injured, I entreat thee.”Some food was now prepared for breakfast, and Maurice de Grey, who had made but one sleep during the night, was called to partake of it. They repeatedly tried to tempt the dogs with the most inviting morsels of the meat, but none of them would touch it when thrown to them, and, altogether regardless of it, they still continued to howl piteously.Hepborne now resolved to proceed to join his party. Duncan MacErchar had already ordered his cousin Angus, who was perfectly well acquainted with the way, to go with the knight as his guide, and not to leave him until he should see him safe into a part of the country where he would be beyond all difficulty. Sir Patrick was much grieved to be compelled to part with him who had been so miraculously instrumental in saving his life. He took off his baldrick and sword, and putting them upon Duncan—“Wear this,” said he, “wear this for my sake, mine excellent friend—wear it as a poor mark of the gratitude I owe thee for having saved me from foul and traitorous murder. I yet hope to bestow some more worthy warison.”“Och, oich!” cried Duncan, “oich, this is too much from her honour—too much trouble indeed. Fye, but she’s a bonny sword; but what will hersel do for want of her? Ou, ay—sure, sure!”“I have others as good among my baggage,” said Hepborne.“But thou didst save two lives,” said Maurice de Grey, running forward, and taking Duncan’s hand; “thou didst save mine twice, by saving Sir Patrick’s. Receive my poor thanks also, most worthy Master MacErchar, and do thou wear this jewelled brooch for my sake.”“Och, oich!” said Duncan, “too much trouble for her—too much trouble, young Sir Pages—too much trouble, surely; but an ever she part with the sword or the bonny brooch, may she pairt with her life at the same time.”They now prepared themselves for taking their different routes, and Hepborne reminding MacErchar of the injunction[205]he had formerly given him, to be sure to claim his acquaintance, wherever they should meet, and giving him a last hearty shake of the hand, they parted, and waving to each other their “Heaven bless thee!” and “May the blessed Virgin be with her honour!” set out on their respective journeys.
[Contents]CHAPTER XXVII.Another Night Attack—A Desperate Encounter.“By what miracle, good mine host,” said Sir Patrick Hepborne to Master Duncan MacErchar—“by what miracle do I see thee in this wilderness, so far from thine own dwelling?”“Uch! uch! miracle truly, miracle truly, that she’s brought here; for who could have thought that the false faitours and traitrous loons would have led her honour this round-about gate, that they might knock out her brains at the Shelter Stone of Loch Avon? An it had not been for Donald and Angus, her two cushins, that hunts the hills, and kens all the roads of these scoundrels, she would never have thought of coming round about over the very shoulders of the mountains to seek after them. But—uve! uve!—where’s the t’other rascals? and where’s her honour’s men and beasts?”Hepborne explained the cause and circumstances of their separation.“Uch! uch!” cried MacErchar; “uve! uve!—then, Holy St. Barnabas, I wish that the t’others scoundrels may not have them after all; so she shall have more miles to travel, and another villains to stickit yet! uve! uve!”And then changing his tongue, he began with great volubility to address, in his own language, his cousins, who now appeared. They replied to him in the same dialect, and then he seemed to tell them the particulars of the late adventure, for he pointed to the dead body of the ruffian on the ground, while his actions corresponded with the tale he was telling, and seemed to be explanatory of it. The two men held up their hands, and listened with open mouths to his narration. He then took up a flaming brand from the fire, and, followed by his two cousins, proceeded to explore the passage leading into the chamber of the Shelter Stone, whence they soon returned with the burden of wolf-skins which the ruffian guide had carried. Duncan MacErchar threw it down on the ground near the fire, and as it fell—“Troth,” said he, with a joyful expression of countenance—“troth but she jingles; she’ll swarrants there be’s something in her. Sure! sure!”[199]With this he went on his knees, and began eagerly to undo the numerous fastenings of hide-thongs which tied the wolf-skins together, and which, as Hepborne himself had noticed, had been closely bound up ever since they started in the morning, though the other guide carried his hanging loose, as both had done the night before. The knots were reticulated and decussated in such a manner as to afford no bad idea of that of Gordius.“Hoof!” said Master MacErchar impatiently, after working at them with his nails for some minutes without the least effect; “sorrow be in their fingers that tied her; though troth she needs not say that now,” added he in parenthesis. “Poof! that will not do neither; but sorrow be in her an she’ll not settle her; she’ll do for her, or she’ll wonders at her.” And, unsheathing his dirk, he ripped up the fastenings, wolf-skins and all, and, to the astonishment of Hepborne, rolled out from their pregnant womb the whole of the glittering valuables, the fruit of his English campaigns.“Och, oich!” cried MacErchar with a joyful countenance, forgetting everything in the delight he felt at recovering his treasure—“och, ay! blessings on her braw siller stoup, and blessings on her bony mazers; she be’s all here. Ay, ay!—och, oich!—ou ay, every one.”The mystery of Master Duncan MacErchar’s hasty journey and unlooked-for appearance at Loch Avon was now explained. His sharp-eared cousin, Angus MacErchar, had been loitering about the door at the time of the departure of the knight and his attendants in the morning, and had heard something clinking in the Celt’s bundle of wolf-skins as he passed, but seeing no cause to suspect anything wrong, as regarded his kinsman’s goods, he neglected to notice the circumstance until some time after they were gone, when he happened to mention, rather accidentally than otherwise, that he thought the rogues had been thieving somewhere, for he had heard the noise of metal pots in the bundle of one of them. Duncan MacErchar took immediate alarm. Without saying a word, he ran to his secret deposit, and having removed the heap of billets and the wattle trap-door, discovered with horror and dismay that his treasures were gone. It was some small comfort to him that they had not found it convenient to carry away what he most valued; and he bestowed a friendly kiss upon the black bugle, and the swords and daggers that were still there; but the whole of the silver vessels were stolen. What was to be done? He was compelled to tell his cousins of his afflicting loss, that he might consult them as to what steps were to be taken. They[200]advised instant pursuit; but well knowing the men and their habits, they felt persuaded that the thieves would carefully avoid the most direct path, and guessed that, in order to mislead their pursuers, they would likely take the circuitous and fatiguing mountain-route by Loch Avon. Taking the advice and assistance of his cousins, therefore, Master Duncan MacErchar set off hot foot after the rogues, and he was soon convinced of the sagacity of his cousins’ counsels, for they frequently came upon the track of the party where the ground was soft, or wet enough to receive the prints of the horses’ feet; and when they came to the ridge of the mountains, they traced them easily and expeditiously over the hardened snow. It was dark ere they reached the brink of the precipice overhanging the lake; but Angus and Donald were now aware of their probable destination, and the fire they saw burning near the Shelter Stone made them resolve to visit it in the first place. They lost no time in descending, the two lads being well acquainted with the dangerous path; and no sooner had Master Duncan MacErchar set his foot in the glen, than, eager to get at the thief, he ran on before his companions. And lucky was it, as we have seen, that he did so; for if he had been but a few minutes later, both Sir Patrick Hepborne and Maurice de Grey must have been murdered by the villain whom he slew.Hepborne now became extremely anxious about the safety of the party under the guidance of the other ruffian. For the attack of one man against so many he had nothing to fear; but he dreaded the possibility of the traitor escaping from them before he had conducted them to their destined place of halt for the night, and so leaving them helpless on the wild and pathless mountain to perish of cold. He had nothing for it, however, but to comfort himself with his knowledge of Sang’s sagacity and presence of mind.Master Duncan MacErchar, with his two cousins, now hastened to cut off a supper for themselves from the bison beef, which they quickly broiled; and, after their hunger had been appeased, the whole party began to think of bestowing themselves to enjoy a short repose. Before doing so, however, Hepborne proposed that they should bury the dead body. This was accordingly done, and from the debris of the fallen rocks a cairn was heaped upon it, sufficiently large to prevent the wolves from attacking it.The page, wrapped in his mantle, was already sound asleep within the snug chamber of the Shelter Stone, and Sir Patrick lost no time in seeking rest in the same comfortable quarters;[201]but the three hardy Highlanders, preferring the open air, rolled themselves up, each in his web of plaiding, and then laid themselves in different places, under the projecting base of the enormous fallen rock, and all were soon buried in refreshing slumber.It happened, however, that Duncan MacErchar had by accident chosen the spot nearest the passage of entrance. The fire had fallen so low as to leave only the red glow of charcoal; but the night, which was already far spent, was partially illuminated by the light of the moon, which had now arisen, though not yet high enough to show its orb to those in the bottom of the glen. He was suddenly awakened by a footstep near him, and, looking up, beheld a dark figure approaching. With wonderful presence of mind, he demanded, in a low whisper, and in his native language, who went there, and was immediately answered by the voice of the other guide, who had gone forward with Hepborne’s party, and who, mistaking MacErchar for his companion in iniquity, held the following dialogue with him, here translated into English.“Hast thou done it, Cormack?”“Nay,” replied Duncan, “it is but now they are gone to sleep, and I fear they are not yet sound enough. What hast thou done with the party of men and their horses?”“I left them all safe at the bothy,” replied the other, “and if we had this job finished, we might go that way, and carry off two or three of the best of their horses and trappings while they are asleep, and we can kill the others, to prevent any of them from having the means of following us when they awake. But come, why should we delay now?—they must be asleep ere this; let us in on them—creep towards them on our knees, and stab them without noise: then all their booty is our own.”“You foul murderer!” cried Duncan MacErchar, springing at him, his right hand extended with the intention of making him prisoner. The astonished ruffian stepped back a pace, as Duncan rushed upon him, and seizing his outstretched hand, endeavoured to keep him at a distance. Both drew their dirks, and a furious struggle ensued. Each endeavoured to keep off the other, with outstretched arm, and powerful exertion, yet each was desirous to avail himself of the first favourable chance that might offer, and to bury the lethal weapon he brandished in the bosom of his antagonist. The ruffian had the decided advantage, for it was his right hand that was free, while MacErchar held his dirk with his left. They tugged, and pushed stoutly against each other, and each alternately[202]made a vain effort to strike his opponent. The brave MacErchar might have easily called for help, but he scorned to seek aid against any single man. They still struggled, frequently shifting their ground by the violence of their exertions, yet neither gaining the least advantage over the other, when, all at once, MacErchar found himself attacked behind by a new and very formidable enemy. This was one of the great rough wolf-dogs, which, having come up at that moment, and observed his master struggling with Duncan, sprang upon his back, and seized him by the right shoulder. The ruffian, seeing himself supported, and thinking that the victory was now entirely in his hands, bent his elbow so as to permit him to close upon his adversary, and made an attempt to stab MacErchar in the breast; but the sturdy and undaunted hero, in defiance of the pain he experienced from the bites of the dog, raised his left arm, and after receiving the stab in the fleshy part of it, instantly returned it into the very heart of his enemy, who, uttering a single groan, fell dead upon the spot. But the dog still kept his hold, until MacErchar, putting his hand backwards, drove the dirk two or three times into his body, and shook him off dead upon the lifeless corpse of his master.“Heich!” cried he, very much toil-spent—“Foof!—Donald—Angus—Uve, uve!—Won’t they be hearing her?”His two cousins, who had been fast asleep at the end of the Shelter Stone, now came hastily round, making a great noise, which roused Sir Patrick, who instantly seized his sword, and rushed out to ascertain what the alarm was.“Oich, oich!” continued Duncan, much fatigued, “oich! and sure she has had a hard tuilzie o’t!”“What, in the name of the blessed Virgin, has happened?” cried Hepborne, eagerly.“Fu! nothing after all,” cried Duncan, “nothing—only that t’other villains came up here from t’others end of the loch, and wanted to murder Sir Patrick and his page; and so she grabbled at her, and had a sore tuilzie with her, and sure she hath stickit her dead at last. But—uve! uve!—she was near worried with her mockell dog; she settled her too, though, and yonder they are both lying dead together. But troth she must go and get some sleep now, and she hopes that she’ll have no more disturbance, wi’ a sorrow to them.”“But, my good friend,” said the knight, “thine arm bleeds profusely, better have it tied up; nay, thy shoulder seems to be torn too.”“Fu, poof!” said MacErchar carelessly, “her arm be’s naething[203]but a scart; she has had worse before from a thorn bush; and her shoulder is but a nip, that will be well or the morn.”So saying, he wrapped his plaid around him, and rolling himself under the base of the stone where he had lain before, he composed himself to sleep again, and the others followed his example. The knight also retired to his singular bed-chamber, and all were very soon quiet.As MacErchar had hoped, they lay undisturbed until daybreak, when they arose, shook themselves, and were soon joined by Hepborne from within. The sun had just appeared above the eastern mountain-tops, and was pouring a flood of glory down among the savage scenery of the glen. MacErchar and his two cousins were busily engaged in renovating the fire; and as Sir Patrick was about to join them, his ears were attracted by the low moans of a dog, which, beginning at the bottom of the scale of his voice, gradually ascended through its whole compass, and ended in a prolonged howl. He cast his eyes towards the spot whence it proceeded—there lay the dead body of the ruffian murderer with the dog that died with him in his defence stretched across him stiff; and by his side sat two more of the dogs, that, having followed some chase as he came up the glen, had not fallen upon his track again until early in the morning, and had but just traced it out, when it brought them to his inanimate corpse. There they sat howling incessantly over him, alternately licking his face, his hands, and his death-wound. Their howl was returned from the surrounding rocks, but it was also answered from no great distance; and on going round the end of the Shelter Stone, he beheld another dog sitting on the top of the cairn they had piled over the dead body of the first man who was killed, scraping earnestly with his feet, and moaning and howling in unison with the two others. Hepborne went towards him, and did all he could to coax him away from the spot; but the attached and afflicted creature would not move. The howling continued, and would have been melancholy enough in any situation; but in a spot so savage and lonely, and prolonged as it was by the surrounding echoes, it increased the dismal and dreary effect of the scenery. Hepborne called the MacErchars, and proposed to them that they should bury the dead body which lay exposed on the ground. They readily assented, and approached it for the purpose of lifting and carrying it to the same spot where they had deposited the other; but Angus and Donald had no sooner attempted to lay hold of it, than both the dogs flew at them, and they were glad to relinquish the attempt, seeing they could[204]carry it into effect by no other means than that of killing the two faithful animals in the first place, and this Hepborne would on no account permit.“Verily he was a foul traitorous murderer,” said the knight; “but he was their master. His hand was kind and merciful to them, whatever it might have been to others. Of a truth, a faithful dog is the only friend who seeth not a fault in him to whom he is attached. Poor fellows! let them not be injured, I entreat thee.”Some food was now prepared for breakfast, and Maurice de Grey, who had made but one sleep during the night, was called to partake of it. They repeatedly tried to tempt the dogs with the most inviting morsels of the meat, but none of them would touch it when thrown to them, and, altogether regardless of it, they still continued to howl piteously.Hepborne now resolved to proceed to join his party. Duncan MacErchar had already ordered his cousin Angus, who was perfectly well acquainted with the way, to go with the knight as his guide, and not to leave him until he should see him safe into a part of the country where he would be beyond all difficulty. Sir Patrick was much grieved to be compelled to part with him who had been so miraculously instrumental in saving his life. He took off his baldrick and sword, and putting them upon Duncan—“Wear this,” said he, “wear this for my sake, mine excellent friend—wear it as a poor mark of the gratitude I owe thee for having saved me from foul and traitorous murder. I yet hope to bestow some more worthy warison.”“Och, oich!” cried Duncan, “oich, this is too much from her honour—too much trouble indeed. Fye, but she’s a bonny sword; but what will hersel do for want of her? Ou, ay—sure, sure!”“I have others as good among my baggage,” said Hepborne.“But thou didst save two lives,” said Maurice de Grey, running forward, and taking Duncan’s hand; “thou didst save mine twice, by saving Sir Patrick’s. Receive my poor thanks also, most worthy Master MacErchar, and do thou wear this jewelled brooch for my sake.”“Och, oich!” said Duncan, “too much trouble for her—too much trouble, young Sir Pages—too much trouble, surely; but an ever she part with the sword or the bonny brooch, may she pairt with her life at the same time.”They now prepared themselves for taking their different routes, and Hepborne reminding MacErchar of the injunction[205]he had formerly given him, to be sure to claim his acquaintance, wherever they should meet, and giving him a last hearty shake of the hand, they parted, and waving to each other their “Heaven bless thee!” and “May the blessed Virgin be with her honour!” set out on their respective journeys.
CHAPTER XXVII.Another Night Attack—A Desperate Encounter.
Another Night Attack—A Desperate Encounter.
Another Night Attack—A Desperate Encounter.
“By what miracle, good mine host,” said Sir Patrick Hepborne to Master Duncan MacErchar—“by what miracle do I see thee in this wilderness, so far from thine own dwelling?”“Uch! uch! miracle truly, miracle truly, that she’s brought here; for who could have thought that the false faitours and traitrous loons would have led her honour this round-about gate, that they might knock out her brains at the Shelter Stone of Loch Avon? An it had not been for Donald and Angus, her two cushins, that hunts the hills, and kens all the roads of these scoundrels, she would never have thought of coming round about over the very shoulders of the mountains to seek after them. But—uve! uve!—where’s the t’other rascals? and where’s her honour’s men and beasts?”Hepborne explained the cause and circumstances of their separation.“Uch! uch!” cried MacErchar; “uve! uve!—then, Holy St. Barnabas, I wish that the t’others scoundrels may not have them after all; so she shall have more miles to travel, and another villains to stickit yet! uve! uve!”And then changing his tongue, he began with great volubility to address, in his own language, his cousins, who now appeared. They replied to him in the same dialect, and then he seemed to tell them the particulars of the late adventure, for he pointed to the dead body of the ruffian on the ground, while his actions corresponded with the tale he was telling, and seemed to be explanatory of it. The two men held up their hands, and listened with open mouths to his narration. He then took up a flaming brand from the fire, and, followed by his two cousins, proceeded to explore the passage leading into the chamber of the Shelter Stone, whence they soon returned with the burden of wolf-skins which the ruffian guide had carried. Duncan MacErchar threw it down on the ground near the fire, and as it fell—“Troth,” said he, with a joyful expression of countenance—“troth but she jingles; she’ll swarrants there be’s something in her. Sure! sure!”[199]With this he went on his knees, and began eagerly to undo the numerous fastenings of hide-thongs which tied the wolf-skins together, and which, as Hepborne himself had noticed, had been closely bound up ever since they started in the morning, though the other guide carried his hanging loose, as both had done the night before. The knots were reticulated and decussated in such a manner as to afford no bad idea of that of Gordius.“Hoof!” said Master MacErchar impatiently, after working at them with his nails for some minutes without the least effect; “sorrow be in their fingers that tied her; though troth she needs not say that now,” added he in parenthesis. “Poof! that will not do neither; but sorrow be in her an she’ll not settle her; she’ll do for her, or she’ll wonders at her.” And, unsheathing his dirk, he ripped up the fastenings, wolf-skins and all, and, to the astonishment of Hepborne, rolled out from their pregnant womb the whole of the glittering valuables, the fruit of his English campaigns.“Och, oich!” cried MacErchar with a joyful countenance, forgetting everything in the delight he felt at recovering his treasure—“och, ay! blessings on her braw siller stoup, and blessings on her bony mazers; she be’s all here. Ay, ay!—och, oich!—ou ay, every one.”The mystery of Master Duncan MacErchar’s hasty journey and unlooked-for appearance at Loch Avon was now explained. His sharp-eared cousin, Angus MacErchar, had been loitering about the door at the time of the departure of the knight and his attendants in the morning, and had heard something clinking in the Celt’s bundle of wolf-skins as he passed, but seeing no cause to suspect anything wrong, as regarded his kinsman’s goods, he neglected to notice the circumstance until some time after they were gone, when he happened to mention, rather accidentally than otherwise, that he thought the rogues had been thieving somewhere, for he had heard the noise of metal pots in the bundle of one of them. Duncan MacErchar took immediate alarm. Without saying a word, he ran to his secret deposit, and having removed the heap of billets and the wattle trap-door, discovered with horror and dismay that his treasures were gone. It was some small comfort to him that they had not found it convenient to carry away what he most valued; and he bestowed a friendly kiss upon the black bugle, and the swords and daggers that were still there; but the whole of the silver vessels were stolen. What was to be done? He was compelled to tell his cousins of his afflicting loss, that he might consult them as to what steps were to be taken. They[200]advised instant pursuit; but well knowing the men and their habits, they felt persuaded that the thieves would carefully avoid the most direct path, and guessed that, in order to mislead their pursuers, they would likely take the circuitous and fatiguing mountain-route by Loch Avon. Taking the advice and assistance of his cousins, therefore, Master Duncan MacErchar set off hot foot after the rogues, and he was soon convinced of the sagacity of his cousins’ counsels, for they frequently came upon the track of the party where the ground was soft, or wet enough to receive the prints of the horses’ feet; and when they came to the ridge of the mountains, they traced them easily and expeditiously over the hardened snow. It was dark ere they reached the brink of the precipice overhanging the lake; but Angus and Donald were now aware of their probable destination, and the fire they saw burning near the Shelter Stone made them resolve to visit it in the first place. They lost no time in descending, the two lads being well acquainted with the dangerous path; and no sooner had Master Duncan MacErchar set his foot in the glen, than, eager to get at the thief, he ran on before his companions. And lucky was it, as we have seen, that he did so; for if he had been but a few minutes later, both Sir Patrick Hepborne and Maurice de Grey must have been murdered by the villain whom he slew.Hepborne now became extremely anxious about the safety of the party under the guidance of the other ruffian. For the attack of one man against so many he had nothing to fear; but he dreaded the possibility of the traitor escaping from them before he had conducted them to their destined place of halt for the night, and so leaving them helpless on the wild and pathless mountain to perish of cold. He had nothing for it, however, but to comfort himself with his knowledge of Sang’s sagacity and presence of mind.Master Duncan MacErchar, with his two cousins, now hastened to cut off a supper for themselves from the bison beef, which they quickly broiled; and, after their hunger had been appeased, the whole party began to think of bestowing themselves to enjoy a short repose. Before doing so, however, Hepborne proposed that they should bury the dead body. This was accordingly done, and from the debris of the fallen rocks a cairn was heaped upon it, sufficiently large to prevent the wolves from attacking it.The page, wrapped in his mantle, was already sound asleep within the snug chamber of the Shelter Stone, and Sir Patrick lost no time in seeking rest in the same comfortable quarters;[201]but the three hardy Highlanders, preferring the open air, rolled themselves up, each in his web of plaiding, and then laid themselves in different places, under the projecting base of the enormous fallen rock, and all were soon buried in refreshing slumber.It happened, however, that Duncan MacErchar had by accident chosen the spot nearest the passage of entrance. The fire had fallen so low as to leave only the red glow of charcoal; but the night, which was already far spent, was partially illuminated by the light of the moon, which had now arisen, though not yet high enough to show its orb to those in the bottom of the glen. He was suddenly awakened by a footstep near him, and, looking up, beheld a dark figure approaching. With wonderful presence of mind, he demanded, in a low whisper, and in his native language, who went there, and was immediately answered by the voice of the other guide, who had gone forward with Hepborne’s party, and who, mistaking MacErchar for his companion in iniquity, held the following dialogue with him, here translated into English.“Hast thou done it, Cormack?”“Nay,” replied Duncan, “it is but now they are gone to sleep, and I fear they are not yet sound enough. What hast thou done with the party of men and their horses?”“I left them all safe at the bothy,” replied the other, “and if we had this job finished, we might go that way, and carry off two or three of the best of their horses and trappings while they are asleep, and we can kill the others, to prevent any of them from having the means of following us when they awake. But come, why should we delay now?—they must be asleep ere this; let us in on them—creep towards them on our knees, and stab them without noise: then all their booty is our own.”“You foul murderer!” cried Duncan MacErchar, springing at him, his right hand extended with the intention of making him prisoner. The astonished ruffian stepped back a pace, as Duncan rushed upon him, and seizing his outstretched hand, endeavoured to keep him at a distance. Both drew their dirks, and a furious struggle ensued. Each endeavoured to keep off the other, with outstretched arm, and powerful exertion, yet each was desirous to avail himself of the first favourable chance that might offer, and to bury the lethal weapon he brandished in the bosom of his antagonist. The ruffian had the decided advantage, for it was his right hand that was free, while MacErchar held his dirk with his left. They tugged, and pushed stoutly against each other, and each alternately[202]made a vain effort to strike his opponent. The brave MacErchar might have easily called for help, but he scorned to seek aid against any single man. They still struggled, frequently shifting their ground by the violence of their exertions, yet neither gaining the least advantage over the other, when, all at once, MacErchar found himself attacked behind by a new and very formidable enemy. This was one of the great rough wolf-dogs, which, having come up at that moment, and observed his master struggling with Duncan, sprang upon his back, and seized him by the right shoulder. The ruffian, seeing himself supported, and thinking that the victory was now entirely in his hands, bent his elbow so as to permit him to close upon his adversary, and made an attempt to stab MacErchar in the breast; but the sturdy and undaunted hero, in defiance of the pain he experienced from the bites of the dog, raised his left arm, and after receiving the stab in the fleshy part of it, instantly returned it into the very heart of his enemy, who, uttering a single groan, fell dead upon the spot. But the dog still kept his hold, until MacErchar, putting his hand backwards, drove the dirk two or three times into his body, and shook him off dead upon the lifeless corpse of his master.“Heich!” cried he, very much toil-spent—“Foof!—Donald—Angus—Uve, uve!—Won’t they be hearing her?”His two cousins, who had been fast asleep at the end of the Shelter Stone, now came hastily round, making a great noise, which roused Sir Patrick, who instantly seized his sword, and rushed out to ascertain what the alarm was.“Oich, oich!” continued Duncan, much fatigued, “oich! and sure she has had a hard tuilzie o’t!”“What, in the name of the blessed Virgin, has happened?” cried Hepborne, eagerly.“Fu! nothing after all,” cried Duncan, “nothing—only that t’other villains came up here from t’others end of the loch, and wanted to murder Sir Patrick and his page; and so she grabbled at her, and had a sore tuilzie with her, and sure she hath stickit her dead at last. But—uve! uve!—she was near worried with her mockell dog; she settled her too, though, and yonder they are both lying dead together. But troth she must go and get some sleep now, and she hopes that she’ll have no more disturbance, wi’ a sorrow to them.”“But, my good friend,” said the knight, “thine arm bleeds profusely, better have it tied up; nay, thy shoulder seems to be torn too.”“Fu, poof!” said MacErchar carelessly, “her arm be’s naething[203]but a scart; she has had worse before from a thorn bush; and her shoulder is but a nip, that will be well or the morn.”So saying, he wrapped his plaid around him, and rolling himself under the base of the stone where he had lain before, he composed himself to sleep again, and the others followed his example. The knight also retired to his singular bed-chamber, and all were very soon quiet.As MacErchar had hoped, they lay undisturbed until daybreak, when they arose, shook themselves, and were soon joined by Hepborne from within. The sun had just appeared above the eastern mountain-tops, and was pouring a flood of glory down among the savage scenery of the glen. MacErchar and his two cousins were busily engaged in renovating the fire; and as Sir Patrick was about to join them, his ears were attracted by the low moans of a dog, which, beginning at the bottom of the scale of his voice, gradually ascended through its whole compass, and ended in a prolonged howl. He cast his eyes towards the spot whence it proceeded—there lay the dead body of the ruffian murderer with the dog that died with him in his defence stretched across him stiff; and by his side sat two more of the dogs, that, having followed some chase as he came up the glen, had not fallen upon his track again until early in the morning, and had but just traced it out, when it brought them to his inanimate corpse. There they sat howling incessantly over him, alternately licking his face, his hands, and his death-wound. Their howl was returned from the surrounding rocks, but it was also answered from no great distance; and on going round the end of the Shelter Stone, he beheld another dog sitting on the top of the cairn they had piled over the dead body of the first man who was killed, scraping earnestly with his feet, and moaning and howling in unison with the two others. Hepborne went towards him, and did all he could to coax him away from the spot; but the attached and afflicted creature would not move. The howling continued, and would have been melancholy enough in any situation; but in a spot so savage and lonely, and prolonged as it was by the surrounding echoes, it increased the dismal and dreary effect of the scenery. Hepborne called the MacErchars, and proposed to them that they should bury the dead body which lay exposed on the ground. They readily assented, and approached it for the purpose of lifting and carrying it to the same spot where they had deposited the other; but Angus and Donald had no sooner attempted to lay hold of it, than both the dogs flew at them, and they were glad to relinquish the attempt, seeing they could[204]carry it into effect by no other means than that of killing the two faithful animals in the first place, and this Hepborne would on no account permit.“Verily he was a foul traitorous murderer,” said the knight; “but he was their master. His hand was kind and merciful to them, whatever it might have been to others. Of a truth, a faithful dog is the only friend who seeth not a fault in him to whom he is attached. Poor fellows! let them not be injured, I entreat thee.”Some food was now prepared for breakfast, and Maurice de Grey, who had made but one sleep during the night, was called to partake of it. They repeatedly tried to tempt the dogs with the most inviting morsels of the meat, but none of them would touch it when thrown to them, and, altogether regardless of it, they still continued to howl piteously.Hepborne now resolved to proceed to join his party. Duncan MacErchar had already ordered his cousin Angus, who was perfectly well acquainted with the way, to go with the knight as his guide, and not to leave him until he should see him safe into a part of the country where he would be beyond all difficulty. Sir Patrick was much grieved to be compelled to part with him who had been so miraculously instrumental in saving his life. He took off his baldrick and sword, and putting them upon Duncan—“Wear this,” said he, “wear this for my sake, mine excellent friend—wear it as a poor mark of the gratitude I owe thee for having saved me from foul and traitorous murder. I yet hope to bestow some more worthy warison.”“Och, oich!” cried Duncan, “oich, this is too much from her honour—too much trouble indeed. Fye, but she’s a bonny sword; but what will hersel do for want of her? Ou, ay—sure, sure!”“I have others as good among my baggage,” said Hepborne.“But thou didst save two lives,” said Maurice de Grey, running forward, and taking Duncan’s hand; “thou didst save mine twice, by saving Sir Patrick’s. Receive my poor thanks also, most worthy Master MacErchar, and do thou wear this jewelled brooch for my sake.”“Och, oich!” said Duncan, “too much trouble for her—too much trouble, young Sir Pages—too much trouble, surely; but an ever she part with the sword or the bonny brooch, may she pairt with her life at the same time.”They now prepared themselves for taking their different routes, and Hepborne reminding MacErchar of the injunction[205]he had formerly given him, to be sure to claim his acquaintance, wherever they should meet, and giving him a last hearty shake of the hand, they parted, and waving to each other their “Heaven bless thee!” and “May the blessed Virgin be with her honour!” set out on their respective journeys.
“By what miracle, good mine host,” said Sir Patrick Hepborne to Master Duncan MacErchar—“by what miracle do I see thee in this wilderness, so far from thine own dwelling?”
“Uch! uch! miracle truly, miracle truly, that she’s brought here; for who could have thought that the false faitours and traitrous loons would have led her honour this round-about gate, that they might knock out her brains at the Shelter Stone of Loch Avon? An it had not been for Donald and Angus, her two cushins, that hunts the hills, and kens all the roads of these scoundrels, she would never have thought of coming round about over the very shoulders of the mountains to seek after them. But—uve! uve!—where’s the t’other rascals? and where’s her honour’s men and beasts?”
Hepborne explained the cause and circumstances of their separation.
“Uch! uch!” cried MacErchar; “uve! uve!—then, Holy St. Barnabas, I wish that the t’others scoundrels may not have them after all; so she shall have more miles to travel, and another villains to stickit yet! uve! uve!”
And then changing his tongue, he began with great volubility to address, in his own language, his cousins, who now appeared. They replied to him in the same dialect, and then he seemed to tell them the particulars of the late adventure, for he pointed to the dead body of the ruffian on the ground, while his actions corresponded with the tale he was telling, and seemed to be explanatory of it. The two men held up their hands, and listened with open mouths to his narration. He then took up a flaming brand from the fire, and, followed by his two cousins, proceeded to explore the passage leading into the chamber of the Shelter Stone, whence they soon returned with the burden of wolf-skins which the ruffian guide had carried. Duncan MacErchar threw it down on the ground near the fire, and as it fell—
“Troth,” said he, with a joyful expression of countenance—“troth but she jingles; she’ll swarrants there be’s something in her. Sure! sure!”[199]
With this he went on his knees, and began eagerly to undo the numerous fastenings of hide-thongs which tied the wolf-skins together, and which, as Hepborne himself had noticed, had been closely bound up ever since they started in the morning, though the other guide carried his hanging loose, as both had done the night before. The knots were reticulated and decussated in such a manner as to afford no bad idea of that of Gordius.
“Hoof!” said Master MacErchar impatiently, after working at them with his nails for some minutes without the least effect; “sorrow be in their fingers that tied her; though troth she needs not say that now,” added he in parenthesis. “Poof! that will not do neither; but sorrow be in her an she’ll not settle her; she’ll do for her, or she’ll wonders at her.” And, unsheathing his dirk, he ripped up the fastenings, wolf-skins and all, and, to the astonishment of Hepborne, rolled out from their pregnant womb the whole of the glittering valuables, the fruit of his English campaigns.
“Och, oich!” cried MacErchar with a joyful countenance, forgetting everything in the delight he felt at recovering his treasure—“och, ay! blessings on her braw siller stoup, and blessings on her bony mazers; she be’s all here. Ay, ay!—och, oich!—ou ay, every one.”
The mystery of Master Duncan MacErchar’s hasty journey and unlooked-for appearance at Loch Avon was now explained. His sharp-eared cousin, Angus MacErchar, had been loitering about the door at the time of the departure of the knight and his attendants in the morning, and had heard something clinking in the Celt’s bundle of wolf-skins as he passed, but seeing no cause to suspect anything wrong, as regarded his kinsman’s goods, he neglected to notice the circumstance until some time after they were gone, when he happened to mention, rather accidentally than otherwise, that he thought the rogues had been thieving somewhere, for he had heard the noise of metal pots in the bundle of one of them. Duncan MacErchar took immediate alarm. Without saying a word, he ran to his secret deposit, and having removed the heap of billets and the wattle trap-door, discovered with horror and dismay that his treasures were gone. It was some small comfort to him that they had not found it convenient to carry away what he most valued; and he bestowed a friendly kiss upon the black bugle, and the swords and daggers that were still there; but the whole of the silver vessels were stolen. What was to be done? He was compelled to tell his cousins of his afflicting loss, that he might consult them as to what steps were to be taken. They[200]advised instant pursuit; but well knowing the men and their habits, they felt persuaded that the thieves would carefully avoid the most direct path, and guessed that, in order to mislead their pursuers, they would likely take the circuitous and fatiguing mountain-route by Loch Avon. Taking the advice and assistance of his cousins, therefore, Master Duncan MacErchar set off hot foot after the rogues, and he was soon convinced of the sagacity of his cousins’ counsels, for they frequently came upon the track of the party where the ground was soft, or wet enough to receive the prints of the horses’ feet; and when they came to the ridge of the mountains, they traced them easily and expeditiously over the hardened snow. It was dark ere they reached the brink of the precipice overhanging the lake; but Angus and Donald were now aware of their probable destination, and the fire they saw burning near the Shelter Stone made them resolve to visit it in the first place. They lost no time in descending, the two lads being well acquainted with the dangerous path; and no sooner had Master Duncan MacErchar set his foot in the glen, than, eager to get at the thief, he ran on before his companions. And lucky was it, as we have seen, that he did so; for if he had been but a few minutes later, both Sir Patrick Hepborne and Maurice de Grey must have been murdered by the villain whom he slew.
Hepborne now became extremely anxious about the safety of the party under the guidance of the other ruffian. For the attack of one man against so many he had nothing to fear; but he dreaded the possibility of the traitor escaping from them before he had conducted them to their destined place of halt for the night, and so leaving them helpless on the wild and pathless mountain to perish of cold. He had nothing for it, however, but to comfort himself with his knowledge of Sang’s sagacity and presence of mind.
Master Duncan MacErchar, with his two cousins, now hastened to cut off a supper for themselves from the bison beef, which they quickly broiled; and, after their hunger had been appeased, the whole party began to think of bestowing themselves to enjoy a short repose. Before doing so, however, Hepborne proposed that they should bury the dead body. This was accordingly done, and from the debris of the fallen rocks a cairn was heaped upon it, sufficiently large to prevent the wolves from attacking it.
The page, wrapped in his mantle, was already sound asleep within the snug chamber of the Shelter Stone, and Sir Patrick lost no time in seeking rest in the same comfortable quarters;[201]but the three hardy Highlanders, preferring the open air, rolled themselves up, each in his web of plaiding, and then laid themselves in different places, under the projecting base of the enormous fallen rock, and all were soon buried in refreshing slumber.
It happened, however, that Duncan MacErchar had by accident chosen the spot nearest the passage of entrance. The fire had fallen so low as to leave only the red glow of charcoal; but the night, which was already far spent, was partially illuminated by the light of the moon, which had now arisen, though not yet high enough to show its orb to those in the bottom of the glen. He was suddenly awakened by a footstep near him, and, looking up, beheld a dark figure approaching. With wonderful presence of mind, he demanded, in a low whisper, and in his native language, who went there, and was immediately answered by the voice of the other guide, who had gone forward with Hepborne’s party, and who, mistaking MacErchar for his companion in iniquity, held the following dialogue with him, here translated into English.
“Hast thou done it, Cormack?”
“Nay,” replied Duncan, “it is but now they are gone to sleep, and I fear they are not yet sound enough. What hast thou done with the party of men and their horses?”
“I left them all safe at the bothy,” replied the other, “and if we had this job finished, we might go that way, and carry off two or three of the best of their horses and trappings while they are asleep, and we can kill the others, to prevent any of them from having the means of following us when they awake. But come, why should we delay now?—they must be asleep ere this; let us in on them—creep towards them on our knees, and stab them without noise: then all their booty is our own.”
“You foul murderer!” cried Duncan MacErchar, springing at him, his right hand extended with the intention of making him prisoner. The astonished ruffian stepped back a pace, as Duncan rushed upon him, and seizing his outstretched hand, endeavoured to keep him at a distance. Both drew their dirks, and a furious struggle ensued. Each endeavoured to keep off the other, with outstretched arm, and powerful exertion, yet each was desirous to avail himself of the first favourable chance that might offer, and to bury the lethal weapon he brandished in the bosom of his antagonist. The ruffian had the decided advantage, for it was his right hand that was free, while MacErchar held his dirk with his left. They tugged, and pushed stoutly against each other, and each alternately[202]made a vain effort to strike his opponent. The brave MacErchar might have easily called for help, but he scorned to seek aid against any single man. They still struggled, frequently shifting their ground by the violence of their exertions, yet neither gaining the least advantage over the other, when, all at once, MacErchar found himself attacked behind by a new and very formidable enemy. This was one of the great rough wolf-dogs, which, having come up at that moment, and observed his master struggling with Duncan, sprang upon his back, and seized him by the right shoulder. The ruffian, seeing himself supported, and thinking that the victory was now entirely in his hands, bent his elbow so as to permit him to close upon his adversary, and made an attempt to stab MacErchar in the breast; but the sturdy and undaunted hero, in defiance of the pain he experienced from the bites of the dog, raised his left arm, and after receiving the stab in the fleshy part of it, instantly returned it into the very heart of his enemy, who, uttering a single groan, fell dead upon the spot. But the dog still kept his hold, until MacErchar, putting his hand backwards, drove the dirk two or three times into his body, and shook him off dead upon the lifeless corpse of his master.
“Heich!” cried he, very much toil-spent—“Foof!—Donald—Angus—Uve, uve!—Won’t they be hearing her?”
His two cousins, who had been fast asleep at the end of the Shelter Stone, now came hastily round, making a great noise, which roused Sir Patrick, who instantly seized his sword, and rushed out to ascertain what the alarm was.
“Oich, oich!” continued Duncan, much fatigued, “oich! and sure she has had a hard tuilzie o’t!”
“What, in the name of the blessed Virgin, has happened?” cried Hepborne, eagerly.
“Fu! nothing after all,” cried Duncan, “nothing—only that t’other villains came up here from t’others end of the loch, and wanted to murder Sir Patrick and his page; and so she grabbled at her, and had a sore tuilzie with her, and sure she hath stickit her dead at last. But—uve! uve!—she was near worried with her mockell dog; she settled her too, though, and yonder they are both lying dead together. But troth she must go and get some sleep now, and she hopes that she’ll have no more disturbance, wi’ a sorrow to them.”
“But, my good friend,” said the knight, “thine arm bleeds profusely, better have it tied up; nay, thy shoulder seems to be torn too.”
“Fu, poof!” said MacErchar carelessly, “her arm be’s naething[203]but a scart; she has had worse before from a thorn bush; and her shoulder is but a nip, that will be well or the morn.”
So saying, he wrapped his plaid around him, and rolling himself under the base of the stone where he had lain before, he composed himself to sleep again, and the others followed his example. The knight also retired to his singular bed-chamber, and all were very soon quiet.
As MacErchar had hoped, they lay undisturbed until daybreak, when they arose, shook themselves, and were soon joined by Hepborne from within. The sun had just appeared above the eastern mountain-tops, and was pouring a flood of glory down among the savage scenery of the glen. MacErchar and his two cousins were busily engaged in renovating the fire; and as Sir Patrick was about to join them, his ears were attracted by the low moans of a dog, which, beginning at the bottom of the scale of his voice, gradually ascended through its whole compass, and ended in a prolonged howl. He cast his eyes towards the spot whence it proceeded—there lay the dead body of the ruffian murderer with the dog that died with him in his defence stretched across him stiff; and by his side sat two more of the dogs, that, having followed some chase as he came up the glen, had not fallen upon his track again until early in the morning, and had but just traced it out, when it brought them to his inanimate corpse. There they sat howling incessantly over him, alternately licking his face, his hands, and his death-wound. Their howl was returned from the surrounding rocks, but it was also answered from no great distance; and on going round the end of the Shelter Stone, he beheld another dog sitting on the top of the cairn they had piled over the dead body of the first man who was killed, scraping earnestly with his feet, and moaning and howling in unison with the two others. Hepborne went towards him, and did all he could to coax him away from the spot; but the attached and afflicted creature would not move. The howling continued, and would have been melancholy enough in any situation; but in a spot so savage and lonely, and prolonged as it was by the surrounding echoes, it increased the dismal and dreary effect of the scenery. Hepborne called the MacErchars, and proposed to them that they should bury the dead body which lay exposed on the ground. They readily assented, and approached it for the purpose of lifting and carrying it to the same spot where they had deposited the other; but Angus and Donald had no sooner attempted to lay hold of it, than both the dogs flew at them, and they were glad to relinquish the attempt, seeing they could[204]carry it into effect by no other means than that of killing the two faithful animals in the first place, and this Hepborne would on no account permit.
“Verily he was a foul traitorous murderer,” said the knight; “but he was their master. His hand was kind and merciful to them, whatever it might have been to others. Of a truth, a faithful dog is the only friend who seeth not a fault in him to whom he is attached. Poor fellows! let them not be injured, I entreat thee.”
Some food was now prepared for breakfast, and Maurice de Grey, who had made but one sleep during the night, was called to partake of it. They repeatedly tried to tempt the dogs with the most inviting morsels of the meat, but none of them would touch it when thrown to them, and, altogether regardless of it, they still continued to howl piteously.
Hepborne now resolved to proceed to join his party. Duncan MacErchar had already ordered his cousin Angus, who was perfectly well acquainted with the way, to go with the knight as his guide, and not to leave him until he should see him safe into a part of the country where he would be beyond all difficulty. Sir Patrick was much grieved to be compelled to part with him who had been so miraculously instrumental in saving his life. He took off his baldrick and sword, and putting them upon Duncan—
“Wear this,” said he, “wear this for my sake, mine excellent friend—wear it as a poor mark of the gratitude I owe thee for having saved me from foul and traitorous murder. I yet hope to bestow some more worthy warison.”
“Och, oich!” cried Duncan, “oich, this is too much from her honour—too much trouble indeed. Fye, but she’s a bonny sword; but what will hersel do for want of her? Ou, ay—sure, sure!”
“I have others as good among my baggage,” said Hepborne.
“But thou didst save two lives,” said Maurice de Grey, running forward, and taking Duncan’s hand; “thou didst save mine twice, by saving Sir Patrick’s. Receive my poor thanks also, most worthy Master MacErchar, and do thou wear this jewelled brooch for my sake.”
“Och, oich!” said Duncan, “too much trouble for her—too much trouble, young Sir Pages—too much trouble, surely; but an ever she part with the sword or the bonny brooch, may she pairt with her life at the same time.”
They now prepared themselves for taking their different routes, and Hepborne reminding MacErchar of the injunction[205]he had formerly given him, to be sure to claim his acquaintance, wherever they should meet, and giving him a last hearty shake of the hand, they parted, and waving to each other their “Heaven bless thee!” and “May the blessed Virgin be with her honour!” set out on their respective journeys.