Hunted and Harried | Page 5

appreciation of the ludicrous. Peacefully inclined in disposition, with a
tendency to believe well of all men, and somewhat free and easy in the
formation of his opinions, he was very unwilling to resist authority; but
the love of truth and justice was stronger within him than the love of
peace.
In company with his shepherd, Quentin Dick--a man of nearly his own
size and build--Andrew Black proceeded to a secluded hollow in
Skeoch Hill to gather and place in order the masses of rock which were
to form the seats of the communicants at the contemplated religious

gathering--which seats remain to this day in the position they occupied
at that time, and are familiarly known in the district as "the
Communion stones of Irongray."
CHAPTER TWO.
THE "FANATIC" AND THE "SPY."
The night was dark and threatening when Andrew Black and his
shepherd left their cottage, and quickly but quietly made for the
neighbouring hill. The weather was well suited for deeds of secrecy, for
gusts of wind, with an occasional spattering of rain, swept along the
hill-face, and driving clouds obscured the moon, which was then in its
first quarter.
At first the two men were obliged to walk with care, for the light was
barely sufficient to enable them to distinguish the sheep-track which
they followed, and the few words they found it necessary to speak were
uttered in subdued tones. Jean Black and her cousin Aggie Wilson had
reported their rencontre with the two dragoons, and Quentin Dick had
himself seen the main body of the troops from behind a heather bush on
his way back to the farm, therefore caution was advisable. But as they
climbed Skeoch Hill, and the moon shed a few feeble rays on their path,
they began to converse more freely. For a few minutes their intercourse
related chiefly to sheep and the work of the farm, for both Andrew and
his man were of that sedate, imperturbable nature which is not easily
thrown off its balance by excitement or danger. Then their thoughts
turned to the business in hand.
"Nae fear o' the sodgers comin' here on a nicht like this," remarked
Andrew, as a squall nearly swept the blue bonnet off his head.
"Maybe no," growled Quentin Dick sternly, "but I've heard frae Tam
Chanter that servants o' that Papist Earl o' Nithsdale, an' o' the
scoondrel Sir Robert Dalziel, hae been seen pokin' their noses aboot at
Irongray. If they git wund o' the place, we're no likely to hae a quiet
time o't. Did ye say that the sodgers ill-used the bairns?"

"Na!--ane o' them was inclined to be impident, but the ither, a
guid-lookin' young felly, accordin' to Jean, took their pairt an'
quarrelled wi' his comrade, sae that they cam to loggerheeds at last, but
what was the upshot naebody kens, for the bairns took to their heels an'
left them fechtin'."
"An' what if they sud fin' yer hoose an' the bairns unproteckit?" asked
the shepherd.
"They're no likely to fin' the hoose in a nicht like this, man; an' if they
do, they'll fin' naebody but Ramblin' Peter there, for I gied the lassies
an' the women strick orders to tak' to the hidy-hole at the first soond o'
horses' feet."
By this time the men had reached a secluded hollow in the hill, so
completely enclosed as to be screened from observation on all sides.
They halted here a few moments, for two dark forms were seen in the
uncertain light to be moving about just in front of them.
"It's them," whispered Andrew.
"Whae?" asked the shepherd.
"Alexander McCubine an' Edward Gordon."
"Guid an' safe men baith," responded Quentin; "ye better gie them a
cry."
Andrew did so by imitating the cry of a plover. It was replied to at
once.
"The stanes are big, ye see," explained Andrew, while the two men
were approaching. "It'll tak' the strength o' the fowr o' us to lift some o'
them."
"We've got the cairn aboot finished," said McCubine as he came up. He
spoke in a low voice, for although there was no probability of any one
being near, they were so accustomed to expect danger because of the

innumerable enemies who swarmed about the country, that caution had
almost become a second nature.
Without further converse the four men set to work in silence. They
completed a circular heap, or cairn, of stones three or four feet high,
and levelled the top thereof to serve as a table or a pulpit at the
approaching assembly. In front of this, and stretching towards a sloping
brae, they arranged four rows of very large stones to serve as seats for
the communicants, with a few larger stones between them, as if for the
support of rude