Hunted and Harried | Page 8

fain repay ye for the guid turn ye did to my bairns. If ye are
willin' to shut yer eyes an' do what I tell ye, I'll put you in a place o'
safety."
"Thank you, Mr. Black," returned Wallace; "of course I shall only be
too glad to escape from the consequences of my unfortunate position;
but do not misunderstand me: although neither a spy nor a Covenantor I
am a loyal subject, and would not now be a deserter if that character
had not been forced upon me, first by the brutality of the soldiers with
whom I was banded, and then by the insolence of my comrade-in-arms
to your daughter--"
"Niece; niece," interrupted Black; "I wish she was my dauchter, bless
her bonny face! Niver fear, sir, I've nae doot o' yer loyalty, though you
an' yer freends misdoot mine. I claim to be as loyal as the best o' ye, but
there's nae dictionary in this warld that defines loyalty to be slavish
submission o' body an' sowl to a tyrant that fears naether God nor man.
The quastion noo is, Div ye want to escape and wull ye trust me?"
The sound of horses galloping in the distance tended to quicken the
young trooper's decision. He submitted to be blindfolded by his captor.
"Noo, Peter," said Andrew, as he was about to lead Wallace away, "ye
ken what to dae. Gie them plenty to eat; show them the rum bottle, let
them hae the rin o' the hoose, an' say that I bade ye treat them weel."
"Ay," was Ramblin' Peter's laconic reply.
Leading his captive out at the door, round the house, and re-entering by
a back door, apparently with no other end in view than to bewilder him,
Andrew went into a dark room, opened some sort of door--to enter
which the trooper had to stoop low--and conducted him down a steep,
narrow staircase.
The horsemen meanwhile had found the cottage and were heard at that
moment tramping about in front, and thundering on the door for
admittance.

Wallace fancied that the door which closed behind him must be of
amazing thickness, for it shut out almost completely the sounds
referred to.
On reaching the foot of the staircase, and having the napkin removed
from his eyes, he found himself in a long, low, vaulted chamber. There
was no one in it save his guide and a venerable man who sat beside a
deal table, reading a document by the light of a tallow candle stuck in
the mouth of a black bottle.
The soldiers, meanwhile, having been admitted by Ramblin' Peter,
proceeded to question that worthy as to Andrew Black and his
household. Not being satisfied of the truth of his replies they proceeded
to apply torture in order to extract confession. It was the first time that
this mode of obtaining information had been used in Black's cottage,
and it failed entirely, for Ramblin' Peter was staunch, and, although
inhumanly thrashed and probed with sword-points, the poor lad
remained dumb, insomuch that the soldiers at length set him down as
an idiot, for he did not even cry out in his agonies--excepting in a
curious, half-stifled manner--because he knew well that if his master
were made aware by his cries of what was going on he would be sure to
hasten to the rescue at the risk of his life.
Having devoured the porridge, drunk the rum, and destroyed a
considerable amount of the farmer's produce, the lawless troopers, who
seemed to be hurried in their proceedings at that time, finally left the
place.
About the time that these events were taking place in and around
Black's cottage, bands of armed men with women and even children
were hastening towards the same locality to attend the great
"conventicle," for which the preparations already described were being
made.
The immediate occasion of the meeting was the desire of the
parishioners of the Reverend John Welsh, a great-grandson of John
Knox, to make public avowal, at the Communion Table, of their
fidelity to Christ and their attachment to the minister who had been

expelled from the church of Irongray; but strong sympathy induced
many others to attend, not only from all parts of Galloway and
Nithsdale, but from the distant Clyde, the shores of the Forth, and
elsewhere; so that the roads were crowded with people making for the
rendezvous--some on foot, others on horseback. Many of the latter
were gentlemen of means and position, who, as well as their retainers,
were more or less well armed and mounted. The Reverend John
Blackadder, the "auld" minister of Troqueer--a noted hero of the
Covenant, who afterwards died a prisoner on the Bass Rock--travelled
with his party all the way from Edinburgh, and a company of eighty