Hunted and Harried | Page 7

the farmer, reaching out his hand, picked up the black silk
neckcloth which he had laid aside, and with it firmly bound his own left
wrist to the right wrist of his captive, talking in a grave, subdued tone
as he did so.
"Nae doot the promise o' a spy is hardly to be lippened to, but if I find
that ye're a dishonourable man, ye'll find that I'm an uncomfortable
prisoner to be tied to. Noo, git up, lad, an' we'll gang hame thegither."
On rising, the first thing the trooper did was to turn and take a steady
look at the man who had captured him in this singular manner.
"Weel, what d'ye think o' me?" asked Andrew, with what may be
termed a grave smile.
"If you want to know my true opinion," returned Wallace, "I should say
that I would not have thought, from the look of you, that you could
have taken mean advantage of a sleeping foe."

"Ay--an' I would not have thought, from the look o' you," retorted
Andrew, "that ye could hae sell't yersel' to gang skulkin' aboot the hills
as a spy upon the puir craters that are only seekin' to worship their
Maker in peace."
Without further remark Andrew Black, leaving his coat and plaid to
keep company with the sword and stick, led his prisoner down the hill.
Andrew's cottage occupied a slight hollow on the hillside, which
concealed it from every point of the compass save the high ground
above it. Leading the trooper up to the door, he tapped gently, and was
promptly admitted by some one whom Wallace could not discern, as
the interior was dark.
"Oh, Uncle Andrew! I'm glad ye've come, for Peter hasna come back
yet, an' I'm feared somethin' has come ower him."
"Strike a light, lassie. I've gotten haud o' a spy here, an' canna weel do't
mysel'."
When a light was procured and held up, it revealed the pretty face of
Jean Black, which underwent a wondrous change when she beheld the
face of the prisoner.
"Uncle Andrew!" she exclaimed, "this is nae spy. He's the man that
cam' to the help o' Aggie an' me against the dragoon."
"Is that sae?" said Black, turning a look of surprise on his prisoner.
"It is true, indeed, that I had the good fortune to protect Jean and her
friend from an insolent comrade," answered Wallace; "and it is also
true that that act has been partly the cause of my deserting to the hills,
being starved for a day and a night, and taken prisoner now as a spy."
"Sir," said Andrew, hastily untying the kerchief that bound them
together, "I humbly ask your pardon. Moreover, it's my opeenion that if
ye hadna been starvin' ye wadna have been here 'e noo, for ye're
uncommon teuch. Rin, lassie, an' fetch some breed an' cheese. Whar's

Marion an' Is'b'l?"
"They went out to seek for Peter," said Jean, as she hastened to obey
her uncle's mandate.
At that moment a loud knocking was heard at the door, and the voice of
Marion, one of the maid-servants, was heard outside. On the door being
opened, she and her companion Isabel burst in with excited looks and
the information, pantingly given, that the "sodgers were comin'."
"Haud yer noise, lassie, an' licht the fire--pit on the parritch pat. Come,
Peter, let's hear a' aboot it."
Ramblin' Peter, who had been thus named because of his inveterate
tendency to range over the neighbouring hills, was a quiet, undersized,
said-to-be weak-minded boy of sixteen years, though he looked little
more than fourteen. No excitement whatever ruffled his placid
countenance as he gave his report--to the effect that a party of dragoons
had been seen by him not half an hour before, searching evidently for
his master's cottage.
"They'll soon find it," said the farmer, turning quickly to his
domestics--"Away wi' ye, lassies, and hide."
The two servant-girls, with Jean and her cousin Aggie Wilson, ran at
once into an inner room and shut the door. Ramblin' Peter sat stolidly
down beside the fire and calmly stirred the porridge-pot, which was
nearly full of the substantial Scottish fare.
"Noo, sir," said Black, turning to Will Wallace, who had stood quietly
watching the various actors in the scene just described, "yer comrades'll
be here in a wee while. May I ask what ye expect?"
"I expect to be imprisoned at the least, more probably shot."
"Hm! pleasant expectations for a young man, nae doot. I'm sorry that
it's oot o' my power to stop an' see the fun, for the sodgers have strange
suspicions aboot me, so I'm forced to mak' mysel' scarce an' leave

Ramblin' Peter to do the hospitalities o' the hoose. But before I gang
awa' I wad