The Greatest Historical Novels & Stories of D. K. Broster. D. K. Broster

Cameron in incredulous tones. “Dear lad, you must be mistaken. There’s but six or seven people know that I am in these parts, and I could answer for everyone of them.”

      Ewen was not shaken. It was like Archie not to believe in treachery. “You may think that,” he replied, “but it has been done. I have the fact on too good authority to doubt it. I have seen Mrs. Stewart, and told her, and have come to intercept you. You must not go back there.”

      Archie slid his arm into his. “But first, my dear Ewen, I must learn whence you come and how? I know that you escaped from Fort William before the New Year, but——”

      “I’ll tell you everything in proper time,” broke in his kinsman, “but in the name of good sense let us find a more concealed place to talk in than this path!—What is occupying you by this tree, pray?” For at the mention of leaving the path Doctor Cameron’s gaze had strayed back to the spot over which he had been stooping. Ewen could see nothing there but some bright-coloured toadstools.

      “It is, I think, a rare fungus,” said Archie meditatively. “I should like—well, why not?” He stooped and picked one, and then allowed Ewen to draw him away into the undergrowth, just there waist-high or more, and find a spot under an oak, where, if they chose to sit or crouch, they would be invisible from the track.

      But for the moment they stood beneath the oak-tree looking at each other, the elder man still holding the little orange toadstool between his fingers. Even though the black tie-wig, in place of the brown one he usually wore, or of his own fair, slightly greying hair, did change Archibald Cameron, even though Ewen’s gaze, scanning his face closely, did seem to find there a hint of a fresh line or two about the kindly mouth, he looked much the same as when Ardroy had last set eyes on him in the dark little croft up at Slochd nan Eun. And, as he might have done then, he wanted most to know of Ewen’s affairs.

      But Ewen took him to task. “Are you fey, Archie, that you waste time over questions of no moment, and won’t believe what I tell you? Someone has betrayed you and sent information to Edinburgh which has been acted upon. To come by the knowledge of this and of your whereabouts I have made a lifelong enemy of a man I liked, committed an assault on him, stolen a horse, and, worse than all, read a private letter by stealth. You must at least pay some heed to me, and pay it at once!”

      His concern was too acute to be ignored any longer. “Forgive me, laochain,” said the elder man. “What do you wish me to do?”

      “Move your quarters instantly. It means capture to return to Duncan Stewart’s.”

      Archie was attentive enough now. “I doubt if there is anyone else in the neighbourhood who is anxious for my presence.”

      “But it would be infinitely better to leave the neighbourhood altogether,” urged his cousin.

      Doctor Cameron considered. “I might lie for a while in the braes of Balquhidder on the far side of the loch—’tis solitary enough there. But if the soldiers are coming from Inversnaid it would be well to avoid that direction, and better to make at right angles through this wood and up the slopes of Beinn an-t-Sithein. . . . Yet, Ewen, ’tis sore hearing and hard believing that anyone can have informed of me. From whom was this letter which you——”

      The sound of a shot, followed by a scream, both quite near, killed the question on his lips, and drove the blood from Ewen’s heart, if not from the speaker’s own. In a moment more, as they both stood mute and tense, a patter of light running feet and the pound of heavier ones could be heard, and along the path which they had left came flying, with terror on her face, a little barefoot girl of about twelve, closely pursued by a soldier, musket in hand, who was shouting after her to stop.

      Both men started indignantly to make their way out of the undergrowth towards the pair, but Ewen turned fiercely on his companion.

      “Archie, are you quite mad?” he whispered. “Stay there—and down with you!” He gave him a rough push, and himself crashed through the bushes and burst out on to the path just in front of the runners. The little girl, sobbing with fright, almost collided with him; he seized her, swung her behind him, and angrily faced the panting soldier. “Put down that musket, you ruffian! This is not the Slave Coast!”

      The man’s face was almost the colour of his coat from his exertions, but, at least, there was no evil intent written there. “I were only trying . . . to stop the varmint!” he explained, very much out of breath. “She’s sent on ahead by some rebels in a farm . . . we marched by a while since . . . to carry a warning belike . . . I’ve bin a-chasing of her up and down hills for the last half-hour. Orders it was . . . I wouldn’t lay a finger on a child . . . got two of me own . . . only fired to frighten her into stopping—Hold her, or she’ll be off again!”

      But there did not seem much likelihood of that. The little girl was on her knees in a heap behind the Highlander, her hands over her ears. He stooped over her.

      “You are not hurt, my child, are you?” he asked in the Gaelic. “Then get you home again; you have done your work. You need not be frightened any more; the redcoat will not harm you.” And he took out a piece of money and closed her fingers over it.

      “What are you saying to her—what are you giving her money for?” demanded the soldier suspiciously. “I believe you’ll be in league with the rebels yourself!”

      “I should scarce tell her to go home if I were,” answered Ewen with an indifference which he was far from feeling. Good God, if next moment a picket should appear and search the bushes—or if Archie did not now remain motionless beneath them! “I do not know what you mean,” he continued, “about a warning, but between us we have stopped the child, and the sixpence I have given her will make her forget her fright the quicker—Off with you!” he repeated to the girl.

      Ewen’s words had no doubt conveyed to the child a sense that she had accomplished her mission, though the eyes under the elf-locks of rusty hair were still fixed on him, and her whole eager, thin little face asked a wordless question to which he dared not make a further reply. Then, without a sign, she sprang up and slipped into the undergrowth, apparently to avoid the proximity of the redcoat, emerged from it on the other side of him, and ran back the way she had come.

      Her late pursuer turned and looked after her, while Ewen’s fingers closed round one of Lord Aveling’s pistols in his pocket. What was the soldier going to do next? If he took a dozen steps off the path to his right he must see Archie crouched there; and if he did that he would have to be shot in cold blood. If he even stayed where he was much longer he would have to be accounted for somehow, since his mere presence would prevent the Jacobite from getting away unobserved. And get away he must, at once.

      “Where’s your main body?” asked Ardroy suddenly.

      The soldier turned round again. “D’ye think I’m quite a fool that you ask me that?” he retorted scornfully. “If you’re one of the disaffected yourself, as I suspect you are, from speaking Erse so glibly, you’ll soon find that out.” And swinging suddenly round again, he went off at a trot on the way he had come.

      “Why, the Duke of Argyll himself speaks Erse on occasions!” Ewen called after him mockingly. But there was no mockery in his heart, only the most sickening apprehension. He was right, only too right, about the warrant, and the child had been sent on ahead to carry a warning, just as Mrs. Stewart had said would probably happen. Had Mrs. Stewart herself sent her? No, the man said she had come from a farm.

      Directly the redcoat was out of sight Ardroy hurled himself into his cousin’s lair. Doctor Cameron was already on his feet.

      “You heard, Archie? There’s not a moment to lose! He’ll be back with a party, very like, from the child running this way . . . though how she knew . . .”

      “Yes, we must make for the side of Beinn an-t-Sithein,” said Archibald Cameron without comment. “That is to say, I must. You——”

      “Do you suppose I am going to leave you? Lead, and I’ll follow you.”

      “There’s