snuffing about for a few seconds, began to barkfuriously. The troop halted at once and challenged.
"Tak' nae notice," remarked Quentin in a low voice, which went nofarther than his comrade's ear.
A bright flash and sharp report followed the challenge, and a ballwhistled through the thicket.
"Ay, fire away," soliloquised Quentin. "Ye seldom hit when ye can see.It's no' likely ye'll dae muckle better i' the dark."
The dog, however, having discovered the track of the hidden men, rushedup the bank towards them. The shepherd picked up a stone, and, waitingtill the animal was near enough, flung it with such a true aim that thedog went howling back to the road. On this a volley from the carbinesof the troopers cut up the bushes all around them.
"That'll dae noo. Come awa', Wull," said the shepherd, rising andproceeding farther into the thicket by a scarce visible footpath. "Thehorses canna follow us here unless they hae the legs an' airms o'puggies. As for the men, they'd have to cut a track to let their bigboots pass. We may tak' it easy, for they're uncommon slow at loadin'."
In a few minutes the two friends were beyond all danger. Returning thento the road about a mile farther on, they continued to journey untilthey had left the scene of the great communion far behind them, and whenday dawned they retired to a dense thicket in a hollow by the banks of alittle burn, and there rested till near sunset, when the journey wasresumed. That night they experienced considerable delay owing to theintense darkness. Towards dawn the day following Quentin Dick led hiscompanion into a wild, thickly-wooded place which seemed formed bynature as a place of refuge for a hunted creature--whether man or beast.
Entering the mouth of what seemed to be a cavern, he bade his companionwait. Presently a sound, as of the cry of some wild bird, was heard.It was answered by a similar cry in the far distance. Soon after theshepherd returned, and, taking his companion by the hand, led him intothe cave which, a few paces from its mouth, was profoundly dark. Almostimmediately a glimmering light appeared. A few steps farther, andWallace found himself in the midst of an extraordinary scene.
The cavern at its inner extremity was an apartment of considerable size,and the faint light of a few lanterns showed that the place was cloudedby smoke from a low fire of wood that burned at the upper end. Here,standing, seated, and reclining, were assembled all sorts and conditionsof men--some in the prime and vigour of life; some bowed with the weightof years; others, both young and old, gaunt and haggard from theinfluence of disease and suffering, and many giving evidence by theiraspect that their days on earth were numbered. Some, by the sterncontraction of brow and lip, seemed to suggest that submission was thelast thought that would enter their minds, but not a few of the partywore that look of patient endurance which is due to the influence of theSpirit of God--not to mere human strength of mind and will. All seemedto be famishing for want of food, while ragged clothes, shaggy beards,hollow cheeks, and unkempt locks told eloquently of the long years ofbodily and mental suffering which had been endured under ruthlesspersecution.
CHAPTER FIVE.
RISKS AND REFUGES.
Immediately on entering the cave in which this party of Covenanters hadfound a temporary shelter, Will Wallace learned the reason of the largesupply of provisions which he and his comrade had carried.
"I've brought this for ye frae Andrew Black," said Quentin, taking thewallet from his shoulder and presenting it to a man in clerical costumewho advanced to welcome him. "He thought ye might stand in need o'victuals."
"Ever thoughtful of his friends; I thank him heartily," said theminister, accepting the wallet--as also that handed to him by Wallace."Andrew is a true helper of the persecuted; and I thank the Lord who hasput it into his heart to supply us at a time when our provisions arewell-nigh exhausted. Our numbers have been unexpectedly increased bythe arrival of some of the unfortunates recently expelled from Lanark."
"From Lanark!" echoed Wallace as he glanced eagerly round on the forlornthrong. "Can you tell me, sir, if a Mr. David Spence and a Mrs. Wallacehave arrived from that quarter?"
"I have not heard of them," returned the minister, as he emptied thewallets and began to distribute their contents to those aroundhim.--"Ah, here is milk--I'm glad our friend Black thought of that, forwe have a poor dying woman here who can eat nothing solid. Here,Webster, take it to her."
With a sudden sinking at the heart Wallace followed the man to whom themilk had been given. Might not this dying woman, he thought, be his ownmother? True, he had just been told that no one with her name had yetsought refuge there; but, there was a bare possibility and--anxiety doesnot reason! As he crossed to a spot where several persons were bendingover a couch of straw, a tremendous clap of thunder shook the solidwalls of the cavern. This was immediately followed by a torrent ofrain, the plashing of which outside suggested that all the windows ofheaven had been suddenly opened. The incident was natural enough initself, but the anxious youth took it as a bad omen, and trembled as hehad never before trembled at the disturbances of nature. One glance,however, sufficed to relieve his mind. The dying woman was young.Delicate of constitution by nature, long exposure to damp air in caves,and cold beds on the ground, with bad and insufficient food, had sealedher doom. Lying there, with hollow cheeks, eyes closed and lips deathlypale, it seemed as if the spirit had already fled.
"Oh, my ain Lizzie!" cried a poor woman who knelt beside her.
"Wheesht, mither," whispered the dying woman, slowly opening her eyes;"it is the Lord's doing--shall not the Judge of a' the earth do right?We'll understand it a' some day--for ever wi' the Lord!"
The last words were audible only to the mother's ear. Food for thebody, even if it could have availed her, came too late. Another momentand she was in the land where hunger and thirst are unknown--where thewicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.
The mourners were still standing in silence gazing on the dead, when aloud noise and stamping of feet was heard at the entrance of the cave.Turning round they saw several drenched and haggard persons enter, amongthem a man supporting--almost carrying--a woman whose drooping figurebetokened great exhaustion.
"Thank you, O thank you; I--I'm better now," said the woman, looking upwith a weary yet grateful expression at her protector.
Will Wallace sprang forward as he heard the voice. "Mother! mother!" hecried, and, next moment, he had her in his arms.
The excitement coupled with extreme fatigue was almost too much for thepoor woman. She could not speak, but, with a sigh of contentment,allowed her head to fall upon the broad bosom of her son.
Accustomed as those hunted people were to scenes of suffering, wilddespair, and sometimes, though not often, to bursts of sudden joy, thisincident drew general attention and sympathy--except, indeed, from themother of the dead woman, whose poor heart was for the moment stunned.Several women--one of whom was evidently a lady of some position--crowded to Will's assistance, and conveyed Mrs. Wallace to a recess inthe cave which was curtained off. Here they gave her food, and changedher soaking garments. Meanwhile her brother, David Spence--agrand-looking old man of gentle manners and refined mind--gave hisnephew an account of the manner in which they had been driven from theirhome.
"What is the matter with your hands, uncle?" asked Will, observing thatboth were bandaged.
"They tried the thumbscrews on me," said Spence with a pitiful smile,glancing at his injured members. "They wanted to force me to sign theBond, which I declined to do--first, because it required me to performimpossibilities; and, second, because it was such as no Government inthe world has a right to exact or freeman to sign. They were going toput the boot on me at first, but the officer in command ordered them totry the thumbscrews. This was lucky, for a man may get along withdamaged thumbs, but it would have been hard to travel with crippledlegs! I held out though, until the pain became so great that I couldn'thelp giving a tremendous yell. This seemed to touch the officer withpity, for he ordered his men to let me be. Soon afterwards your
motherand I managed to give them the slip, and we came on here."
"But why came you here, uncle?" asked Will.
"Because I don't want to be taken to Edinburgh and hanged. Besides,after hearing of your temporary settlement with Black, I thought thesafest place for your mother would be beside yourself."
When Wallace explained the cause of his own journey, and the conditionof the district around Black's farm, the plans of David Spence had to bealtered. He resolved, after consideration and prayer, to take to themountains and remain in hiding, while Mrs. Wallace should go toEdinburgh, as already planned, and live with Mrs. Black.
"But it will never do to take her along with yourself, Will," saidSpence. "She cannot