Hunted and Harried by R. M. Ballantyne (the little red hen ebook TXT) 📕

in earnest conversation, and took little notice of him as he entered. The place was very dimly lighted. One end of the low vaulted chamber was involved in obscurity. Thither the youth went and knelt down. From infancy his mother had taught him “to say his prayers,” and had sought to induce him to pray. It is probable that the first time he really did so was in that secret chamber where, in much anxiety of soul, he prayed for herself.

After a hasty but hearty supper, he and Quentin Dick set out on their night journey. They carried nothing with them except two wallets, filled, as Wallace could not help thinking, with a needlessly large amount of provisions. Of course they were unarmed, for they travelled in the capacity of peaceful drovers, with plaids on their shoulders, and the usual staves in their hands.

“One would think we were going to travel for a month in some wilderness, to judge from the weight of our haversacks,” observed Wallace, after trudging along for some time in silence.

“Maybe we’ll be langer than a month,” returned Quentin, “ann the wulderness hereaway is warse than the wulderness that Moses led his folk through. They had manna there. Mony o’ us hae naething here.”

Quentin Dick spoke with cynicism in his tone, for he was a stern straightforward man, on whom injustice told with tremendous power, and who had not yet been taught by adversity to bow his head to man and restrain his indignation.

Before Wallace had time to make any rejoinder, something like the appearance of a group of horsemen in front arrested them. They were still so far distant as to render their tramp inaudible. Indeed they could not have been seen at all in so dark a night but for the fact that in passing over the crest of a hill they were for a moment or two dimly defined against the sky.

“Dragoons—fowr o’ them,” muttered Quentin. “We’ll step aside here an’ let them gang by.”

Clambering up the somewhat rugged side of the road, the two men concealed themselves among the bushes, intending to wait till the troopers should pass.

“What can they be doing in this direction, I wonder?” whispered Wallace.

“My freend,” answered Quentin, “dinna whisper when ye’re hidin’. Of a’ the sounds for attractin’ attention an’ revealin’ secrets a whisper is the warst. Speak low, if ye maun speak, but sometimes it’s wiser no to speak ava’. Dootless the sodgers’ll be giein’ Andrew Black a ca’, but he kens brawly hoo to tak’ care o’ himsel’.”

When the horseman approached it was seen that they were driving before them a boy, or lad, on foot. Evidently they were compelling him to act as their guide.

“It’s Ramblin’ Peter they’ve gotten haud o’, as sure as I’m a leevin’ man,” said the shepherd with a low chuckle; “I’d ken him amang a thoosand by the way he rins.”

“Shall we not rescue him?” exclaimed Wallace, starting up.

“Wheesht! keep still, man. Nae fear o’ Peter. He’ll lead them in amang the bogs o’ some peat-moss or ither, gie them the slip there, an’ leave them to find their way oot.”

Just as the troop trotted past an incident occurred which disconcerted the hiders not a little. A dog which the soldiers had with them scented them, stopped, and after snuffing about for a few seconds, began to bark furiously. The troop halted at once and challenged.

“Tak’ nae notice,” remarked Quentin in a low voice, which went no farther than his comrade’s ear.

A bright flash and sharp report followed the challenge, and a ball whistled 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, rushed up the bank towards them. The shepherd picked up a stone, and, waiting till the animal was near enough, flung it with such a true aim that the dog went howling back to the road. On this a volley from the carbines of the troopers cut up the bushes all around them.

“That’ll dae noo. Come awa’, Wull,” said the shepherd, rising and proceeding farther into the thicket by a scarce visible footpath. “The horses 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 big boots 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 then to the road about a mile farther on, they continued to journey until they had left the scene of the great communion far behind them, and when day dawned they retired to a dense thicket in a hollow by the banks of a little burn, and there rested till near sunset, when the journey was resumed. That night they experienced considerable delay owing to the intense darkness. Towards dawn the day following Quentin Dick led his companion into a wild, thickly-wooded place which seemed formed by nature 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 companion wait. 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 the shepherd returned, and, taking his companion by the hand, led him into the cave which, a few paces from its mouth, was profoundly dark. Almost immediately a glimmering light appeared. A few steps farther, and Wallace 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 clouded by smoke from a low fire of wood that burned at the upper end. Here, standing, seated, and reclining, were assembled all sorts and conditions of men—some in the prime and vigour of life; some bowed with the weight of years; others, both young and old, gaunt and haggard from the influence of disease and suffering, and many giving evidence by their aspect that their days on earth were numbered. Some, by the stern contraction of brow and lip, seemed to suggest that submission was the last thought that would enter their minds, but not a few of the party wore that look of patient endurance which is due to the influence of the Spirit of God—not to mere human strength of mind and will. All seemed to be famishing for want of food, while ragged clothes, shaggy beards, hollow cheeks, and unkempt locks told eloquently of the long years of bodily and mental suffering which had been endured under ruthless persecution.