Hunted and Harried. Robert Michael Ballantyne
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dragoons, and of course took no notice of the summons.
“D’ye hear!” shouted the Sergeant savagely, for he was ignorant of the old man’s condition.
Still Mitchell did not move. Glendinning, whose disposition seemed to have been rendered more brutal since his encounter with Wallace, drew a pistol from his holster and presented it at Mitchell.
“Answer me,” he shouted again, “or ye’re a deed man.”
Mitchell did not move… There was a loud report, and next moment the poor old man fell dead upon the ground.
It chanced that Ramblin’ Peter heard the report, though he did not witness the terrible result, for he was returning home from the Mitchells’ cottage at the time, after escorting Jean Black and Aggie Wilson thither. The two girls, having been forbidden to attend the gathering on Skeoch Hill, had resolved to visit the Mitchells and spend the Sabbath with them. Peter had accompanied them and spent the greater part of the day with them, but, feeling the responsibility of his position as the representative of Andrew Black during his absence, had at last started for home.
A glance over a rising ground sufficed to make the boy turn sharp round and take to his heels. He was remarkably swift of foot. A few minutes brought him to the cottage door, which he burst open.
“The sodgers is comin’, grannie!” (He so styled the old woman, though she was no relation.)
“Did ye see my auld man?”
“No.”
“Away wi’ ye, bairns,” said Mrs Mitchell quickly but quietly. “Oot by the back door an’ doon the burnside; they’ll niver see ye for the busses.”
“But, grannie, we canna leave you here alone,” remonstrated Jean with an anxious look.
“An’ I can fecht!” remarked Peter in a low voice, that betrayed neither fear nor excitement.
“The sodgers can do nae harm to me,” returned the old woman firmly. “Do my bidding, bairns. Be aff, I say!”
There was no resisting Mrs Mitchell’s word of command. Hastening out by the back door just as the troopers came in sight, Peter and his companions, diving into the shrubbery of the neighbouring streamlet, made their way to Black’s farm by a circuitous route. There the girls took shelter in the house, locking the door and barring the windows, while Peter, diverging to the left, made for the hills like a hunted hare.
Andrew was standing alone at his post when the lithe runner came in sight. Will Wallace had left him by that time, and was listening entranced to the fervid exhortations of Dickson of Rutherglen.
“The sodgers!” gasped Peter, as he flung himself down to rest.
“Comin’ this way, lad?”
“Na. They’re at the Mitchells.”
“A’ safe at the ferm?” asked Andrew quickly.
“Ay, I saw the lasses into the hoose.”
“Rin to the meetin’ an’ gie the alarm. Tell them to send Wallace an’ Quentin here wi’ sax stoot men—weel airmed—an’ anither sentry, for I’m gaun awa’.”
Almost before the sentence was finished Ramblin’ Peter was up and away, and soon the alarming cry arose from the assembly, “The dragoons are upon us!”
Instantly the Clydesdale men mounted and formed to meet the expected onset. The men of Nithsdale were not slow to follow their example, and Gordon of Earlstoun, a tried and skilful soldier, put himself at the head of a large troop of Galloway horse. Four or five companies of foot, also well armed, got ready for action, and videttes and single horsemen were sent out to reconnoitre. Thus, in a moment, was this assembly of worshippers transformed into a band of Christian warriors, ready to fight and die for their families and liberties.
But the alarm, as it turned out, was a false one. Glendinning, informed by spies of the nature of the gathering, was much too sagacious a warrior to oppose his small force to such overwhelming odds. He contented himself for the present with smaller game.
After continuing in the posture of defence for a considerable time, the assembly dispersed, those who were defenceless being escorted by armed parties to the barns and cottages around. As they retired from the scene the windows of heaven were opened, and the rain, which had been restrained all day, came down in torrents, and sent the Cairn and Cluden red and roaring to the sea.
But long before this dispersion took place, Andrew Black, with Quentin Dick, Will Wallace, Ramblin’ Peter, and six sturdy young men, armed with sword, gun, and pistol, had hurried down the hill to succour the Mitchells, if need be, and see to the welfare of those who had been left behind in the farm.
Chapter Four.
The Hunting and Harrying Displayed
Being ignorant, as we have said, of the cruel murder of old Mitchell, Ramblin’ Peter’s report had not seriously alarmed Black. He concluded that the worst the troopers would do would be to rob the poor old couple of what money they found in their possession, oblige them to take the Oath of Supremacy, drink the health of King and bishops, and otherwise insult and plunder them. Knowing the Mitchells intimately, he had no fear that their opposition would invite severity. Being very fond of them, however, he resolved, at the risk of his life, to prevent as far as possible the threatened indignity and plunder.
“They’re a douce auld pair,” he remarked to Will Wallace as they strode down the hillside together, “quiet an’ peaceable, wi’ naething to speak o’ in the way of opeenions—somethin’ like mysel’—an’ willin’ to let-be for let-be. But since the country has been ower-run by thae Hielanders an’ sodgers, they’ve had little peace, and the auld man has gie’n them a heap o’ trouble, for he’s as deaf as a post. Peter says the pairty o’ dragoons is a sma’ ane, so I expect the sight o’ us’ll scare them away an’ prevent fechtin’.”
“It may be so,” said Wallace, “and of course I shall not fail you in this attempt to protect your old friends; but, to tell you the truth, I don’t quite like this readiness on the part of you Covenanters to defy the laws, however bad they may be, and to attack the King’s troops. The Bible, which you so often quote, inculcates longsuffering and patience.”
“Hm! there speaks yer ignorance,” returned the farmer with a dash of cynicism in his tone. “Hoo mony years, think ye, are folk to submit to tyranny an’ wrang an’ fierce oppression for nae sin whatever against the laws o’ God or the land? Are twunty, thretty, or forty years no’ enough to warrant oor claim to lang-sufferin’? Does submission to law-brekin’ on the pairt o’ Government, an’ lang-continued, high-handed oppression frae King, courtier, an’ prelate, accompanied wi’ barefaced plunder and murder—does that no’ justifiee oor claim to patience? To a’ this the Covenanters hae submitted for mony weary years withoot rebellion, except maybe in the metter o’ the Pentlands, when a wheen o’ us were driven to desperation. But I understand your feelin’s, lad, for I’m a man o’ peace by natur’, an’ would gladly submit to injustice to keep things quiet—if possable; but some things are no’ possable, an’ the Bible itsel’ says we’re to live peaceably wi’ a’ men only ‘as much as in us lies.’”
The ex-trooper was silent. Although ignorant of the full extent of maddening persecution to which not merely the Covenanters but the people of Scotland generally had been subjected, his own limited experience told him that there was much truth in what his companion said; still, like all loyal-hearted men, he shrank from the position of antagonism to Government.
“I agree with you,” he said, after a few minutes’ thought, “but I have been born, I suppose, with a profound respect for law and legally constituted authority.”
“Div ye think, lad,” returned Black, impressively, “that naebody’s been born wi’ a high respec’ for law but yersel’? I suppose ye admit that the King is bound to respec’ the law as weel as the people?”
“Of course I do. I am no advocate of despotism.”
“Weel then,”