*CHAPTER VI*
*IN THE LAP OF THE HILLS*
As I set out I saw that the moon was rapidly sinking. Much time had beenlost, and I must needs make haste. I hurried past the whin bush, andby-and-by came to the bed of brackens. Just as I reached it the moonsank, but there was still enough light to let me see dimly things nearat hand. I judged that the river must lie about a mile away, and towalk that distance over unknown ground in the dark tests a man in ahundred ways. I did not know at what moment some lurking figure mightspring upon me from the shelter of the brackens, and, clapping a hand onmy shoulder, arrest me in the King's name. I had no weapon of defencesave a stout heart and a pair of iron fists. Even a brave man, inflight, is apt to read into every rustle of a leaf or into every one ofthe natural sounds that come from the sleeping earth an eeriesignificance, and more than once I halted and crouched down to listenclosely to some sound, which proved to be of no moment.
Conscience is a stern judge who speaks most clearly in the silences ofthe night when a man is alone, and as I groped my way onward therelentless pursuing voice spoke in my ear like some sibilant andclinging fury of which I could not rid myself. The avenger of blood wason my heels: some ghostly warlock, some awesome fiend sent from the pitto take me thither! The horror of the deed in which I had taken part inthe morning gripped me by the heart. I stumbled on distraught, and as Iwent I remembered how once I had heard among the hills a shrill cry asof a child in pain, and looking to see whence the cry had come I sawdragging itself wearily along the hillside, with ears dropped back andhind-limbs paralysed with fear, a young rabbit, and as I looked I sawbehind it a weasel trotting briskly, with nose up and gleaming eyes, inthe track of its victim. I knew enough of wood-craft to realise thatthe chase had lasted long and that from the time the weasel began thepursuit until the moment when I saw them, the issue had been certain;and I knew that the rabbit knew. Such tricks of fancy does memory playupon a man in sore straits. I saw, again, the end of the chase--theflurry of fur as the weasel gripped the rabbit by the throat; I heardits dying cry as the teeth of its pursuer closed in the veins of itsneck; and there in the dark, I was seized with sudden nausea. I drew along breath and tried to cry aloud, but my tongue clave to the roof ofmy mouth; fear had robbed me of speech. Then a sudden access ofstrength came to me and I began to run. Was it only the feveredimaginings of a disordered brain, or was it fact, that to my racing feetthe racing feet of some pursuer echoed and echoed again? Suddenly myfoot struck a boulder. I was thrown headlong and lay bruised andbreathless on the ground--and as I lay the sound of footsteps that hadseemed so real to me was no more heard.
I was bruised by my fall and my limbs were still shaking when Istruggled up, but I hurried on again, and by and by the tinkle of theriver as it rippled over its bed fell on my ear like delicate,companionable music. When I reached its edge I sat down for a momentand peered into the darkness towards the other side; but gaze as I mightI could not see across it. It looked dark and cold and uncertain, andthough I was a swimmer I had no desire to find myself flung suddenly outof my depth. So, before I took off my shoes and stockings, I cut a longwand from a willow near, and with this in my hand I began warily toadventure the passage. I stood ankle deep in the water and felt for mynext step with my slender staff. It gave me no support, but it let meknow with each step the depth that lay before me. By-and-by I reachedthe other side, and painfully--because of my naked feet--I traversed ituntil I came to the green sward beyond. Here I sat down in the shelterof a clump of bushes and put on my shoes and stockings. The cold waterhad braced me, and I was my own man again.
As I set out once more I calculated that the sun would rise in threehours' time, and I knew that an hour after sunrise it would be dangerousfor me to continue my flight in the open. For, though the country-sidewas but thinly peopled, some shepherd on the hills or some woman fromher cottage door might espy a strange figure trespassing upon theirnative solitude. To be seen might prove my undoing, so I hurried onwhile the darkness was still upon the earth.
When day broke I was up among the hills. Now I began to walkcircumspectly, scanning the near and distant country before venturingacross any open space; and when the sun had been up for an hour, and thelast silver beads of dew were beginning to dry on the tips of theheather, I set about finding a resting-place. It was an easy task, forthe heather and bracken grew luxuriantly. I crawled into the middle ofa clump of bracken, and drawing the leafy stems over me lay snugly hid.I was foot-sore and hungry, but I helped myself to Luckie's goodprovender, and almost as soon as I had finished my meal I was fastasleep.
When I awoke I was, for a moment, at a loss to understand mysurroundings. Then I remembered my flight, and all my senses were aliveagain. I judged from the position of the sun that it must be lateafternoon. Caution made me wary, and I did not stir from my lair, for Iknew that questing troopers might already be on the adjacent hill-sideslooking for me, and their keen eyes would be quick to discern anyunusual movement in the heart of a bed of bracken, so I lay still andwaited. Then I dozed off again, and when I awoke once more, the starswere beginning to appear.
Secure beneath the defence of the dark, I quitted my resting-place. Sofar, fortune had smiled upon me; I had baffled my pursuers, and duringthe hours of the night the chase would be suspended. The thought lentspeed to my feet and flooded my heart with hope. Ere the break of mornI should have covered many a mile. So I pressed on resolutely, and whenthe moon rose I had already advanced far on my way.
As I went I began to consider my future. My aim was to reach England.Once across the border I should be safe from pursuit: but in reachingthat distant goal I must avoid the haunts of men, and until such time asI could rid myself of my trooper's uniform and find another garb, myjourney would be surrounded with countless difficulties. I estimatedthat with care my store of food would last three days. After that theproblem of procuring supplies would be as difficult as it would beurgent. I dared not venture near any cottage: I dared not enter anyvillage or town, and the more I thought of my future the blacker itbecame. Defiantly I choked down my fears and resolved that I shouldlive for the moment only. There was more of boldness than wisdom in thedecision, and when I had come to it I trudged on blithely with nothought except to cover as many miles as possible before the day shouldbreak.
When that hour came I found myself standing by the side of a lone greyloch laid in the lap of the hills. On each side the great sheet of waterwas surrounded by a heather-clad ridge, from whose crest some ancientcataclysm had torn huge boulders which lay strewn here and there on theslopes that led down to the water edge. Remote from the haunts of man,it seemed to my tired eyes a place of enchanting beauty; and I stoodthere as though a spell were upon me and watched the sun rise, diffusingas it came a myriad fairy tints which transformed the granite slabs tosilver, and lighted up the mist-clad hill-side with colours of pearl andpurple and gold.
I watched a dove-grey cloud roll gently from the face of the loch and,driven by some vagrant wind, wander ghost-like over the hill-side. Themoor-fowl were beginning to wake and I heard the cry of the cock-grousechallenge the morn. Pushing my way through the dew-laden beds ofheather, I ascended to the crest of the slope which ran up from theloch, and looked across the country. Before me rolled a panorama ofmoor and hill, while in the far distance the morning sky bent down totouch the earth. There was no human habitation in sight; no feather ofpeat-smoke ascending into the air from a shepherd's cot; no sheep orcattle or living thing; but the silence was broken by the wail of thewhaups, which, in that immensity of space, seemed charged with woe. Idescended from the hill-top and passed round the end of the loch toreconnoitre from the ridge on the other side. My eyes were met by alike expanse of moor and hills. Here, surely, I thought, is solitudeand safety. Here might any fugitive conceal himself till the fever ofthe hue and cry should abate. For a time at least I should make thispeaceful mountain fastness my home.
When I came down from the ridge I walked along the edge of the loch tillI came upon a little stream which broke merrily away from the loch-sideand rippled with tinkling chatter under the heather and across themoorland till the brown ribbon of its course was lost in the distance.Half-dreaming I walked along its bank. Suddenly in a little pool I sawa trout dart to the cover of a stone. With the zest of boyhood, but thewariness of maturer years, I groped with cautious fingers beneath thestone and in a few seconds felt the slight movements of the little fishas my hands closed slowly upon it. In a flash it was out on thebank--yards away, and soon other four lay beside it. I had found anunexpected means of replenishing my larder. With flint and steel andtinder I speedily lit a handful of dry grass placed under the shelter ofa boulder, and adding some broken stems of old heather and bits ofwithered bracken I soon made a pleasant fire over which I cooked mytrout on a flat stone. I have eaten few breakfasts so grateful since.
The meal over, I took care to extinguish the fire. Then, in better cheerthan I had yet been since the moment of my desertion, looking about fora resting-place I found a great granite boulder projecting from thehill-side and underneath its free edge a space where a man might liecomfortably and well hidden by the tall bracken which over-arched theopening. Laying a thick bed of heather beneath the rock, I crawled in,drawing back the brackens to their natural positions over a hiding-placewonderfully snug and safe.
I judged from the position of the sun that it was near six of themorning when I crawled into my bed, and soon I was fast asleep. It washigh noon when I awoke and peered cautiously through the fronds of thebracken on a solitude as absolute as it was in the early hours of themorning. I felt sorely tempted to venture out for a little while; butdiscretion counselled caution, and I lay down once more and was soonfast asleep. When I awoke again I saw that the sun was setting.
I rose and stretched my stiffened limbs. The loch lay in the twilightsmooth as a sheet of polished glass. I went down to its edge and,undressing, plunged into its waters, still warm from the rays of thesummer sun. Greatly refreshed, I swam ashore, dressed, and ate some foodfrom my rapidly diminishing store. I had found in the burn-trout anunexpected addition to my larder, but it was evident that very soon Ishould be in sore straits.
Suddenly, I heard a shrill sound cleave the air. Quickly I crawled underthe shelter of the nearest rock and listened. The sound was coming fromthe heather slopes on the other side of the loch and I soon became awarethat it was from a flute played by a musician of skill. I was amazedand awed. The gathering darkness, the loneliness of the hills, thestillness of the loch, gave to the music a weird and haunting beauty. Icould catch no glimpse of the player, but now I knew that I was notalone in this mountain solitude. The music died away only to come againwith fresh vigour as the player piped a jigging tune. It changed oncemore, and out of the darkness and distance floated an old Scotsmelody--an echo of hopeless sorrow from far off years. It ceased.
I waited until the darkness was complete, and, taking a careful note ofthe bearings of my hiding-place, I set out with silent footsteps to theother side of the loch to see if I could discover, without myself beingseen, this hill-side maker of music. Slowly I rounded the end of theloch, and stole furtively along its edge till I came to a point belowthe place from which I judged the melody had come. There, crouchinglow, and pausing frequently, I went up the slope. Suddenly I heard avoice near me, and sank to the ground. No man in his senses speaksaloud to himself! There must be two people at least on this hill-side,and my solitude and safety were delusions! I cursed myself for a fool,and then as the speaker raised his voice I knew that I was not listeningto men talking together, but to a man praying to his Maker--aCovenanter--a fugitive like myself--hiding in these fastnesses.Silently as I had come I stole away and left the moorland saint alonewith his God.
Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing Times Page 6