Guy Mannering; or, The Astrologer — Complete by Walter Scott (reading an ebook .txt) 📕

Brown quickened his pace, and, attaining the summit of a small rising ground, saw the subject of the dog’s alarm. In a hollow about a gunshot below him a man whom he easily recognised to be Dinmont was engaged with two others in a desperate struggle. He was dismounted, and defending himself as he best could with the butt of his heavy whip. Our traveller hastened on to his assistance; but ere he could get up a stroke had levelled the farmer with the earth, and one of the robbers, improving his victory, struck him some merciless blows on the head. The other villain, hastening to meet Brown, called to his companion to come along, ‘for that one’s CONTENT,’ meaning, probably, past resistance or complaint. One ruffian was armed with a cutlass, the other with a bludgeon; but as the road was pretty narrow, ‘bar fire-arms,’ thought Brown, ‘and I may manage them well enough.’ They met accordingly, with the most murderous threats on the part of the ruffians. They soon found, however, that their new opponent was equally stout and resolute; and, after exchanging two or three blows, one of them told him to ‘follow his nose over the heath, in the devil’s name, for they had nothing to say to him.’

Brown rejected this composition as leaving to their mercy the unfortunate man whom they were about to pillage, if not to murder outright; and the skirmish had just recommenced when Dinmont unexpectedly recovered his senses, his feet, and his weapon, and hastened to the scene of action. As he had been no easy antagonist, even when surprised and alone, the villains did not choose to wait his joining forces with a man who had singly proved a match for them both, but fled across the bog as fast as their feet could carry them, pursued by Wasp, who had acted gloriously during the skirmish, annoying the heels of the enemy, and repeatedly effecting a moment’s diversion in his master’s favour.

‘Deil, but your dog’s weel entered wi’ the vermin now, sir!’ were the first words uttered by the jolly farmer as he came up, his head streaming with blood, and recognised his deliverer and his little attendant.

‘I hope, sir, you are not hurt dangerously?’

‘O, deil a bit, my head can stand a gay clour; nae thanks to them, though, and mony to you. But now, hinney, ye maun help me to catch the beast, and ye maun get on behind me, for we maun off like whittrets before the whole clanjamfray be doun upon us; the rest o’ them will no be far off.’ The galloway was, by good fortune, easily caught, and Brown made some apology for overloading the animal.

‘Deil a fear, man,’ answered the proprietor; ‘Dumple could carry six folk, if his back was lang eneugh; but God’s sake, haste ye, get on, for I see some folk coming through the slack yonder that it may be just as weel no to wait for.’

Brown was of opinion that this apparition of five or six men, with whom the other villains seemed to join company, coming across the moss towards them, should abridge ceremony; he therefore mounted Dumple en croupe, and the little spirited nag cantered away with two men of great size and strength as if they had been children of six years old. The rider, to whom the paths of these wilds seemed intimately known, pushed on at a rapid pace, managing with much dexterity to choose the safest route, in which he was aided by the sagacity of the galloway, who never failed to take the difficult passes exactly at the particular spot, and in the special manner, by which they could be most safely crossed. Yet, even with these advantages, the road was so broken, and they were so often thrown out of the direct course by various impediments, that they did not gain much on their pursuers. ‘Never mind,’ said the undaunted Scotchman to his companion, ‘if we were ance by Withershins’ Latch, the road’s no near sae soft, and we’ll show them fair play for’t.’

They soon came to the place he named, a narrow channel, through which soaked, rather than flowed, a small stagnant stream, mantled over with bright green mosses. Dinmont directed his steed towards a pass where the water appeared to flow with more freedom over a harder bottom; but Dumple backed from the proposed crossing-place, put his head down as if to reconnoitre the swamp more nearly, stretching forward his fore-feet, and stood as fast as if he had been cut out of stone.

‘Had we not better,’ said Brown, ‘dismount, and leave him to his fate; or can you not urge him through the swamp?’

‘Na, na,’ said his pilot, ‘we maun cross Dumple at no rate, he has mair sense than mony a Christian.’ So saying, he relaxed the reins, and shook them loosely. ‘Come now, lad, take your ain way o’t, let’s see where ye’ll take us through.’

Dumple, left to the freedom of his own will, trotted briskly to another part of the latch, less promising, as Brown thought, in appearance, but which the animal’s sagacity or experience recommended as the safer of the two, and where, plunging in, he attained the other side with little difficulty.

‘I’m glad we’re out o’ that moss,’ said Dinmont, ‘where there’s mair stables for horses than change-houses for men; we have the Maiden-way to help us now, at ony rate.’ Accordingly, they speedily gained a sort of rugged causeway so called, being the remains of an old Roman road which traverses these wild regions in a due northerly direction. Here they got on at the rate of nine or ten miles an hour, Dumple seeking no other respite than what arose from changing his pace from canter to trot. ‘I could gar him show mair action,’ said his master, ‘but we are twa lang-legged chields after a’, and it would be a pity to stress Dumple; there wasna the like o’ him at Staneshiebank Fair the day.’

Brown readily assented to the propriety of sparing the horse, and added that, as they were now far out of the reach of the rogues, he thought Mr. Dintnont had better tie a handkerchief round his head, for fear of the cold frosty air aggravating the wound.

‘What would I do that for?’ answered the hardy farmer; ‘the best way’s to let the blood barken upon the cut; that saves plasters, hinney.’

Brown, who in his military profession had seen a great many hard blows pass, could not help remarking, ‘he had never known such severe strokes received with so much apparent indifference.’

‘Hout tout, man! I would never be making a humdudgeon about a scart on the pow; but we’ll be in Scotland in five minutes now, and ye maun gang up to Charlie’s Hope wi’ me, that’s a clear case.’

Brown readily accepted the offered hospitality. Night was now falling when they came in sight of a pretty river winding its way through a pastoral country. The hills were greener and more abrupt than those which Brown had lately passed, sinking their grassy sides at once upon the river. They had no pretensions to magnificence of height, or to romantic shapes, nor did their smooth swelling slopes exhibit either rocks or woods. Yet the view was wild, solitary, and pleasingly rural. No inclosures, no roads, almost no tillage; it seemed a land which a patriarch would have chosen to feed his flocks and herds. The remains of here and there a dismantled and ruined tower showed that it had once harboured beings of a very different description from its present inhabitants; those freebooters, namely, to whose exploits the wars between England and Scotland bear witness.