CHAPTER XXX.
THE BULL OF EARLSTOUN'S HOMECOMING.
It was about this time that Sandy came home. It may seem from some partsof this history that we agreed not over well together. But after all itwas as brothers may disagree among themselves; though they are bandedstoutly enough against all the world beside. I think it made us love oneanother more that recently we had been mostly separate; and so whenSandy came home this time and took up his old lodging in the tree, itwas certainly much heartsomer at the Earlstoun. For among other thingsour mother mostly went to carry him his meals of meat, taking with herJean Hamilton, Sandy's wife, thus leaving only Maisie Lennox to bring memy portion to the well-house.
But often in the gloaming Sandy himself came climbing up by the ivy onthe outside of the well-tower, letting his great body down through thenarrow broken lattice in the tiles. And in that narrow chamber wecheered one another with talk. This I liked well enough, so long as hespoke of Groningen and the Low Countries. But not so well when he beganto deafen me with his bickerings about the United Societies--how therewas one, Patrick Laing, a man of fierce and determined nature, thatcould not company with other than himself; how Mr. Linning wrestled withthe other malcontents, and especially how he himself was of so greathonour and consideration among them, that they had put off even so gravea matter as a General Meeting that he might have time to come fromEdinburgh to attend it. And in what manner, at the peril of his life, hedid it.
One night, while he was in the midst of his recital, the mighty voice ofhim sounding out upon the night brought the sentry from his corner--wholistened, but could not understand whence came the sounds. Presently thesoldier called his comrade, and the pair of them stole to the door ofthe well-house, where I had lain so long in safety. Sandy was in theheat of his discourse, and I sitting against the chamber wall in myknee-breeches, and with a plaid about me, listening at my ease. For longimmunity had made us both careless.
"At Darmead, that well-kenned place, we had it," Sandy was saying, hislong limbs extended half-way across the floor as he lay on the bareboards, and told his story; "it was a day of glorious witnessing andcontesting. No two of us thought the same thing. Each had his ownsay-away and his own reasons, and never a minister to override us.Indeed, since Ritchie lay down at length on Ayrsmoss to rest him, thereis no minister that could. But I hear of a young man, Renwick, that isnow with Mr. Brackel of Leeuwarden, that will scare some of theill-conditioned when he comes across the water----"
Even as he spoke thus, and blattered with the broad of his hand on hisknee, the trap-door in the floor slowly lifted up. And through theaperture came the head of a soldier--even that of the sentry of thenight, with whose footfalls I had grown so familiar, that I minded themno more than the ticking of the watch in your pocket or the beating ofyour heart in the daytime.
The man seemed even more surprised than we, and for a long moment heabode still, looking at Sandy reclining on the floor. And Sandy lookedback at him with his jaw dropped and his mouth open. I could havelaughed at another time, for they were both great red men with beards ofthat colour, and their faces were very near one another, like those ofthe yokels that grin at each other emulously out of the horse collars onthe turbulent day of the Clachan Fair--which is on the eve of St. John,in the time of midsummer.
Then suddenly Sandy snatched an unlighted lantern, and brought it downon the soldier's head, which went through the trap-door likeJack-out-of-the-box being shut down again.
"Tak' the skylight for it, William," Sandy cried. "I'll e'en gang doonan' see what this loon wants!"
So snatching a sword that lay upon the boards by his side, Sandy wentdown the trap after his man. I heard him fall mightily upon the twosoldiers to whom had been committed the keeping of the house that night.In that narrow place he gripped them both with the first claucht of hisgreat arms, and dadded their heads together, exhorting them all the timeto repent and think on their evil ways.
"Wad ye, then, vermin," he cried as one and another tried to get at himwith their weapons round the narrow edge of the well-curb; and I heardone after another of their tools clatter down the masonry of the well,and plump into the water at the bottom. The men were in their heavymarching gear, being ready at all times for the coming of Clavers, whowas a great man for discipline, and very particular that the soldiersshould always be properly equipped whenever it might please him toarrive. And because he loved night marches and sudden surprises, the mentook great pains with their accoutrement.
"Can I help ye, Sandy?" I cried down through the hole.
"Bide ye whaur ye are, man. I can manage the hullions fine! Wad ye,then? Stan' up there back to back, or I'll gie ye anither daud on thekerb that may leave some o' your harns[8] stickin' to it. Noo, I'll putthe rape roon ye, an' ease ye doon to a braw and caller spot!"
[Footnote 8: Brains.]
I looked down the trap and saw Sandy roving the spare coil of well-roperound and round his two prisoners. He had their hands close to theirsides, and whenever one of them opened his mouth, Sandy gave his head aknock with his open hand that drave him silent again, clapping his teethtogether like castanets from Spain.
As soon as he had this completed to his satisfaction, he lifted thebucket from the hook, and began to lower the men down the shaft,slinging them to the rope by the belly-bands of His Majesty's regimentalbreeches.
The men cried out to ask if he meant to drown them.
"Na, na, droon nane," said Sandy. "There's but three feet o' water inthe well. Ye'll be fine and caller doon there a' nicht, but gin ye asmuckle as gie a cry afore the morrow's sunrise--weel, ye hae heard o'Sandy Gordon o' the Earlstoun!"
And this, indeed, feared the men greatly, for he was celebrated for hisstrength and daring all athwart the country; and especially amongsoldiers and common people, who, as is well known, are never donetalking about feats of strength.
This being completed, he brought me down from my loft and took me intothe house to bid the women folk farewell. They cried out with terrorwhen he told them what he had done as a noble jest, and how he had boundthe soldiers and put them in the well-bottom. But my mother said sadly,"It is the beginning of the end! O Sandy, why could you not have beencontent with scaring them?"
"It was our lives or theirs, mither," said Sandy. "Had they gotten roomto put steel into me, your first-born son wad hae been at thewell-bottom, wi' his heid doon an' his mooth open, and your seconddangling in a hempen collar in the Grass Market. The eggs are all in onebasket now, mither!"
"Haste ye away!" cried she, "lest the soldiers break lowse and come andfind ye here!"
"They hae somewhat better sense than to break lowse this nicht," saidSandy, grimly smiling. "I'm gaun nane to tak' the heather withoot mysupper."
So he sat him down on the settle like a man at ease and well content.
"Jean, fetch the plates," he said to his wife; "it's graund to be hungryan' ken o' meat!"
Maisie Lennox stood quietly by; but I could see that she liked not theturn of affairs, nor the reckless way that Sandy had of driving allthings before him.
"Haste ye, young lass," he said to her, and at the word she went quietlyto help Jean Hamilton.
"Whither gang ye?" our mother said to us, as we made us ready to flee."Mind and be canny wi' that laddie, Sandy, for he has been ill and needscare and tendance to this day."
And it pleased me to see that Maisie Lennox looked pale and anxious whenshe came near me. But no word spoke she.
"Na, mither. I'll no tell ye whaur we gang, for ye micht be put to thequestion, and now ye can say ye dinna ken wi' a guid conscience."
I got a word with Maisie at the stair foot as she went up to bring someplaid or kerchief down, which our mother insisted I should take with me.
"Maisie," I said, "ye'll no forget me, will ye?"
But she would give me no great present satisfaction.
"There are so many gay things in my life to gar me forget a friend!" wasall she said; but she looked down and pulled at her apron.
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"Nay, but tell me, my lassie, will ye think every day o' the lad yenursed in the well-house chamber?"
"Your mother is crying on me," she said; "let me go, William" (thoughindeed I was not touching her).
I was turning away disappointed with no word more, but very suddenly shesnatched my hand which had fallen to my side, pressed it a moment to herbreast, and then fled upstairs like a young roe.
So, laden with wrappings, Sandy and I took our way over the moor, makingour path through our own oakwood, which is the largest in Galloway, andout by Blawquhairn and Gordiestoun upon the moor of Bogue--a wet andmarshy place, save in the height of the dry season. Sandy was for goingtowards a hold that he had near the lonely, wind-swept loch of Knockman,which lies near the top of a hill of heather and bent. But as we came tothe breast of the Windy Brae, I felt my weakness, and a cold sweat beganto drip from me.
"Sandy," I said to my brother, taking him by the hand lest he should gotoo fast for me, "I fear I shall be but a trouble to you. Leave me, Ipray you, at Gordiestoun to take my chance, and hie you to the heather.It'll maybe no be a hanging matter wi' me at ony gate."
"Hear till him," said Sandy, "leave him! I'll leave the laddie nane. Theman doesna breathe that Sanquhar and Ayrsmoss are no eneuch to draw thethrapple o', were it my Lord Chancellor himsel'!"
He bent and took me on his back. "There na, is that comfortable?" hesaid; and away he strode with me as though he had been a giant.
"Man, ye need mony a bow o' meal to your ribs," he cried, making lightof the load. "Ye are no heavier than a lamb in the poke-neuk o' aplaid."
I think he was sorry for stirring me from the well-chamber, and thethought of his kindness made me like him better than I had manned to dofor some time.
And indeed my weight seemed no more to him, than that of a motherlesssuckling to a shepherd on the hill, when he steps homeward at the closeof the day. It is a great thing to be strong. If only Sandy hadpossessed the knack of gentleness with it, he would have been a greatman. As it was, he was only the Bull of Earlstoun.
We kept in our flight over the benty fell towards Milnmark, but holdingmore down to the right towards the Garpel burn where there are many densand fastnesses, and where the Covenant folk had often companiedtogether.
I was afraid to think what should come to my sickness, when the coldshelves of the rock by the Dass of the Holy Linn would be my bed,instead of the comfortable blankets of the well-house. And, truth totell, I was not thanking my brother for his heedlessness in compellingthe exchange, when I felt him stumble down the steep bank of the Garpeland stride across, the water dashing about his legs as he wadedthrough--taking, as was his wont, no thought of an easy way or ofkeeping of himself dry, but just going on ram-stam till he had wonclear.