Carmen's Messenger

by Harold Bindloss

  XI

  THE POACHERS

  Foster left Peebles soon after his arrival and following the Tweed downstream to Traquair turned south across the hills. A road brought himto Yarrow, where he sat down to smoke in the shelter of a stone dyke bythe waterside. He had no reason to believe that he was followed, andthere were two good hotels beside St. Mary's loch, which was not faroff. But Foster did not mean to stay at good hotels and knew that Dalywould not have much trouble in reaching St. Mary's in a car if hearrived at Peebles by a later train. It would then be difficult tokeep out of his way, and if he found Foster alone, he would, no doubt,go back to look for Lawrence at the Garth. Taking this for granted,Foster thought it better to put Ettrick Forest between himself andpossible pursuit.

  It looked a lonely region on the map, and when he glanced south thehills loomed, dark and forbidding, through thin gray mist. Pools ofwater dotted the marish fields, and beyond these lay a wet, brown mosswhere wild cotton grew among the peat-hags. Plover were crying aboutthe waste and a curlew's shrill tremolo rang out as it flitted acrossthe leaden sky. The outlook was not encouraging, but Foster picked hisway across the bog and struck up the side of a fell. There was a road,but it would take him some distance round.

  Wiry grass twined about his feet, he sank in velvety green patcheswhere the moss grew rank, and walking was harder when he crossed beltsof withered heath. Here and there a gnarled thorn bush rattled its drytwigs in the wind; there were bits of dykes and rusty wire fences, buthe saw no path except the winding tracks the sheep had made. StillEttrick water was not far off, and he would strike it if he held south.Heavy rain met him on the summit, and after struggling on for a time hetook shelter behind a broken dyke. The rain got worse and the moor waslost in mist a quarter of a mile away, but he heard a faint, hoarsesound in the haze below. He thought this was the roar of Ettrick or afall on a moorland burn that would lead him down.

  When he began to feel cold he set off again, and the rain, whichthinned as he went down hill, stopped altogether when he reached thebottom. A road ran beside the angry water, but the valley was deeplysunk in the dark fells and their summits were hidden by drifting mist.There was no hint of life in the dreary landscape except a moving patchthat looked like a flock of sheep, and a glance at the map showed thathis path led on across the waste to the south. It would be a longmarch to Hawick, which was the town he meant to reach, particularly ifhe went up the valley, until he found a road, but his director hadindicated a clachan as his stopping-place. He understood that aclachan meant a hamlet, and the old fellow had said he would find roughbut sufficient accommodation in what he called a change-house. Itwould be awkward if he lost the way, but this must be risked, andcrossing the river he struck into the hills.

  He found a rough track, and presently the sky began to clear.Pale-blue patches opened in the thinning clouds, and gleams ofsunshine, chased by shadow, touched the moor. Where they fell thebrown heath turned red and withered fern glowed fiery yellow. Thegreen road, cropped smooth by sheep and crossed by rills of water,swung sharply up and down, but at length it began a steady descent, andabout four o'clock in the afternoon Foster stopped in the bottom of adeep glen.

  A few rushy fields occupied the hollow and a house stood in the shelterof a thin fir wood. It had mullioned windows and a porch with pillars,but looked old, and the walls were speckled with lichens. A gardenstretched about it, and looking in through the iron rails, Foster sawgnarled fruit trees fringed with moss. Their branches cut against apatch of saffron sky, and a faint warm glow touched the front of thebuilding. There was a low window at its nearer end and Foster saw awoman sewing by the fire.

  The house had a strangely homelike look after the barren moors, andFoster, feeling tired and cold, longed to ask for shelter. Had it beena farm, he might have done so, but he thought it belonged to somecountry laird and resumed his march. He never saw the house again, butremembered it now and then, as he had seen it with the fading lightthat shone through the old apple trees touching its lichened wall.

  The road led upwards and he stopped for breath at the summit. The glenwas now shut in and the light going, but here and there in the distancea loch reflected a pale gleam. A half-moon shone above the hills andthe silver light got brighter as he went on. The wind had fallen andthe silence was emphasized by the faint splash of water. After a time,he came down to lower ground where broken dykes divided stragglingfields, but there was no sign of life until as he turned a corner anindistinct figure vanished among the dry fern in the shadow of a wall.Foster thought this curious, particularly when he passed the spot andsaw nobody there, but there was an opening in the dyke for the sheep togo through.

  A little farther on, the road ran across a field, and when he was nearthe middle he saw something move behind a gorse bush. Although itlooked like a man's head, he did not stop. Going on, as if he had seennothing, until he was close to the gorse, he left the track and walkedswiftly but softly across the grass. When he reached the bush a manwho had been crouching behind it sprang to his feet. He was tall androughly dressed, and looked like a shepherd or farm-hand.

  "Weel," he said with a truculent air, "what is it ye want with me?"

  The question somewhat relieved Foster, who now noted the end of a long,thin net in the grass.

  "I was curious to see what you were doing. Then I meant to ask the wayto Langsyke."

  "What are ye wanting there?"

  "To stay the night. I was directed to a change-house where they'd takeme in."

  "They might. Ye're a stranger, and ye'll tak' the road again the morn?"

  Foster said he meant to do so and the other pondered.

  "Weel, there's a soft flow where ye might get mired if ye left theroad, which is no' that plain, and I could set ye on the way, butthere's a bit job I'll hae to finish first." He paused and added witha grin as he indicated the net: "Maybe ye hae a notion what it is."

  "I imagine it's connected with somebody else's grouse or partridges,but that's not my business. You'll be a shilling or two richer if youshow me the way."

  "Then the sooner I'm finished here, the sooner we'll be off, though Idoot we hae fleyt the paltrig. Bide ye by the whinns, and when ye seeme at the dyke come forrad with the net. If I lift my airm, ye'llstop."

  He went off with the end of the net, and Foster waited, half amused.The fellow probably wanted to ensure his saying nothing about thepoaching by making him an accomplice, but this did not matter much. Itwas an adventure and he was anxious to find a guide. By the way thenet unwound and slipped across the grass he thought there was anotherman at work, but he carried his part forward as he had been told andthen dropped it and sat down among some rushes. Two indistinct figureswere moving towards each other and he got up presently when onesignaled. When he joined them a number of small dark objects showedthrough the net.

  "Hae!" said a man who opened the meshes, and added when Foster pickedup two limp birds: "We've no' done so bad."

  Then Foster remembered the man he had seen as he came along the road.

  "How many of you are in the gang?" he asked.

  "There's twa o' us her. I'm thinking that's a' ye need ken."

  "It's what I meant," said Foster apologetically. "Still I passedanother fellow hiding, a short distance back."

  The men, saying nothing, took out the birds and began to roll up thenet. Foster had now four partridges, which they seemed to expect himto carry, and was putting their legs together so as to hold themconveniently when he heard a rattle of stones. Then a dark figureleaped down from the wall and somebody shouted: "Stand where ye are orI'll put a chairge o' number four in ye!"

  A leveled gun twinkled in the moonlight, and for a moment Fosterhesitated. He hardly thought the man would shoot, and it would beawkward if he was arrested with the partridges in his hand. Springingsuddenly forward, he struck, from below upwards, with his stick. Therewas a flash and a report, but he felt himself unharmed and brought thestick down upon the gameke
eper's head. He heard the gun drop, and thenturned and, keeping in the shadow of the wall, ran across the field.When he was near the opposite end, he saw another man waiting to cuthim off, and seizing the top of the dyke swung himself over. He camedown among withered fern and ran back behind the wall towards the spotwhere he had left his first antagonist, until he struck a small,winding hollow through which water flowed. This seemed to offer a goodhiding-place, but Foster knew better, although he followed it for ashort distance. One can often hide best in the open and it was prudentto avoid the obvious line of search. Creeping out of the hollow, hemade for a clump of rushes and felt satisfied when he lay down behindit. His waterproof and cap were gray, and his pursuers would have tosearch all the field before they found him, unless they were lucky.

  After a few minutes, he saw them, but while one plunged into thehollow, the other sat on top of the wall. This seemed to be the fellowhe had struck, and Foster was relieved to see he was not badly hurt.The man, however, occupied a commanding position, because Foster'schance of remaining unseen depended largely on the searcher's heightabove the ground. He knew from experience gained in hunting that avery small object will hide a man so long as the line of sight he mustavoid is nearly horizontal, but the fellow on the wall could see overthe rushes. In consequence, immobility was his only resource, and hevery cautiously turned his head enough to enable him to see.

  The gamekeeper who had entered the hollow presently came back into thefield and began to walk methodically up and down, and Foster regrettedhis rashness in helping with the net. The poachers had vanished, butthe others seemed to know there was somebody about, and since they weregamekeepers would be hard to deceive. His cover was not good, andalthough he might have changed his place when the fellow in the fieldwas farthest away, he feared that a movement would betray him to theother on the wall.

  In the meantime, the chill of the wet soil crept through his mackintoshand his hands got numbed. He thrust them into the mossy grass for fearthey should show in the moonlight, and buried his face in the rushes,which prickled his skin. He could, with some trouble, see through theclump and anxiously watched the fellow who came steadily nearer. Nowand then he turned aside to examine a whinn bush, and Foster saw thathe had acted wisely when he dropped behind the rushes. Had he chosen aprominent object for cover, he would have been caught.

  At length, the searcher crossed the field on a line that would bringhim close to where Foster lay, and the latter let his face sink lowerand tried to check his breathing. He durst not look about, but heardthe man's heavy boots splash in the boggy grass, until the fellowsuddenly stopped. Foster thought he had seen him, but did not move.In the Northwest, he had now and then caught a jack-rabbit by carefullymarking its hiding-place, but had not seen it afterwards until henearly trod upon the crouching animal. It was comforting to rememberthat his pursuers had not watched him drop behind the rushes.

  "Hae ye seen aught, Jock?" the keeper near him called, and Foster wasconscious of keen relief.

  "Naething ava," answered the other. "If he went doon the burn, he'sno' come oot."

  "He's no' there; ye would ha' seen him if he'd headed back."

  There was silence for a moment or two and Foster heard the water bubblein the moss as the man moved his foot. The fellow would tread upon himif he took a few steps in the right direction, but his mackintosh wasmuch the color of the withered grass and his face and hands were hidden.

  Then the man on the wall remarked in a thoughtful tone: "I'm no' quitesure he went ower the dyke. Ye see, I was kin' o' staggered by theclout on the head, and he might ha' slippit oot by the gate."

  "It will be Lang Pate, of course."

  "Just him," agreed the other. "He was near enough to reach me with hisstick and the light no' that bad. Besides, wha' else would it be?"

  Foster, seeing that he had escaped notice, felt amused. Long Pete wassuspected and therefore judged guilty; the keeper's last argumentbanished doubt.

  "My heid's sair," the man resumed. "We'll look if they've gone doonthe glen, and then tak' the road if ye'll row up the net."

  The other crossed the field and Foster lay still until he heard himclimb the wall and afterwards made for a hole that led into the road.Somewhat to his surprise, he found that he had brought the partridges.He followed the road quietly, keeping in the shadow of a dyke, althoughhe thought the gamekeepers had gone the other way, and on turning acorner came upon the poachers lurking behind a thorn bush.

  "We thought they had caught ye," one remarked.

  "I suppose you were anxious about it, because you were afraid I mightput them on your track."

  "I canna say ye're altogether wrang, but whaur are they the noo?"

  "Looking for you in the glen, I believe. But which of you is LongPete?"

  The man he had met first said it was his name, and Foster resumed:"Then I imagine the fellow with the gun means to declare that youstruck him."

  "He would!" Pete remarked, grinning. "Weel, it's lucky I hae twa threefriends wha'll show that I couldna' ha' been near the spot just then.But we'll need to hurry."

  "I think I understand," said Foster, who went on with them. "Still youcan't save much time, even if you walk very fast."

  "Verra true," Pete replied. "But it's no' difficult to pit back theclock."

  Leaving the road presently, they struck across a bog that got softer asthey advanced until Foster felt the rotten turf tremble beneath hisfeet. All round were clumps of rushes, patches of smooth buttreacherous moss, and holes where water glimmered in the moonlight. Heimagined it was a dangerous place for a stranger to cross, but hiscompanions knew the way, and although he sank to the top of his bootsthey reached firmer ground. Soon afterwards, Pete showed him a roughtrack that crossed the side of a hill.

  "Yon's your road and ye'll see the clachan in aboot a mile. If they'reno' verra willing to tak' ye in, ye can tell them ye're a freend o'mine."

  Foster thanked him and followed the track, which led him to a hollowwhere lights shone among a clump of bare ash trees. A few low, whitehouses straggled along the roadside, and he thought one that wassomewhat larger and had dormer windows was the change-house. When heknocked he was shown into an untidy kitchen where two men sat drinkingby a peat fire. At first, the landlord seemed doubtful about beingable to find room for him, but his manner changed when Fostercarelessly mentioned that he understood from Pete that he would bewelcome, and one of the others gave him a keen glance.

  "Where met ye Pate?" he asked.

  "On the hill," said Foster, who felt sure of his ground. "I helped himwith the net."

  "Had he any luck?"

  "Not much," said Foster. "Two gamekeepers turned up and although wegot a few partridges Pete lost his net."

  There was silence for a moment, and then another remarked: "I wouldna'say but we ken enough. We hae helpit Pate oot before, and a change islightsome. He can gang till the moss-side folk noo."

  They let the matter drop, but Foster was given a better supper than heexpected and afterwards a bed in a cupboard fixed to the kitchen wall.