Dickson McCunn - Complete 'Gorbals Die-hards' Series. Buchan John

from her baggage, and with swift, capable hands she made a bandage and rubbed the wound with ointment before tying it up. Then her fingers seemed to play about his temples and along his cheeks and neck. She was the professional nurse now, absorbed, sexless. Heritage ceased to babble, his eyes shut and he was asleep.

      She remained where she was, so that the Poet, when a few minutes later he woke, found himself lying with his head in her lap. She spoke first, in an imperative tone: “You are well now. Your head does not ache. You are strong again.”

      “No. Yes,” he murmured. Then more clearly: “Where am I? Oh, I remember, I caught a lick on the head. What’s become of the brutes?”

      Dickson, who had extracted food from the Mearns Street box and was pressing it on the others, replied through a mouthful of Biscuit: “We’re in the old Tower. The three are lockit up in the House. Are you feeling better, Mr. Heritage?”

      The Poet suddenly realized Saskia’s position and the blood came to his pale face. He got to his feet with an effort and held out a hand to the girl. “I’m all right now, I think. Only a little dicky on my legs. A thousand thanks, Princess. I’ve given you a lot of trouble.”

      She smiled at him tenderly. “You say that when you have risked your life for me.”

      “There’s no time to waste,” the relentless Dougal broke in. “Comin’ over here, I heard a shot. What was it?”

      “It was me,” said Dickson. “I was shootin’ at the factor.”

      “Did ye hit him?”

      “I think so, but I’m sorry to say not badly. When I last saw him he was running too quick for a sore hurt man. When I fired I thought it was the other man—the one they were expecting.”

      Dickson marvelled at himself, yet his speech was not bravado, but the honest expression of his mind. He was keyed up to a mood in which he feared nothing very much, certainly not the laws of his country. If he fell in with the Unknown, he was entirely resolved, if his Maker permitted him, to do murder as being the simplest and justest solution. And if in the pursuit of this laudable intention he happened to wing lesser game it was no fault of his.

      “Well, it’s a pity ye didn’t get him,” said Dougal, “him being what we ken him to be… I’m for holding a council o’ war, and considerin’ the whole position. So far we haven’t done that badly. We’ve shifted our base without serious casualties. We’ve got a far better position to hold, for there’s too many ways into yon Hoose, and here there’s just one. Besides, we’ve fickled the enemy. They’ll take some time to find out where we’ve gone. But, mind you, we can’t count on their staying long shut up. Dobson’s no safe in the boiler-house, for there’s a skylight far up and he’ll see it when the light comes and maybe before. So we’d better get our plans ready. A word with ye, Mr. McCunn,” and he led Dickson aside.

      “D’ye ken what these blagyirds were up to?” he whispered fiercely in Dickson’s ear. “They were goin’ to pushion the lassie. How do I ken, says you? Because Thomas Yownie heard Dobson say to Lean at the scullery door, ‘Have ye got the dope?’ he says, and Lean says, ‘Aye.’ Thomas mindit the word for he had heard about it at the Picters.”

      Dickson exclaimed in horror.

      “What d’ye make o’ that? I’ll tell ye. They wanted to make sure of her, but they wouldn’t have thought o’ dope unless the men they expectit were due to arrive at any moment. As I see it, we’ve to face a siege not by the three but by a dozen or more, and it’ll no’ be long till it starts. Now, isn’t it a mercy we’re safe in here?”

      Dickson returned to the others with a grave face.

      “Where d’you think the new folk are coming from?” he asked.

      Heritage answered, “From Auchenlochan, I suppose? Or perhaps down from the hills?”

      “You’re wrong.” And he told of Leon’s mistaken confidences to him in the darkness. “They are coming from the sea, just like the old pirates.”

      “The sea,” Heritage repeated in a dazed voice.

      “Ay, the sea. Think what that means. If they had been coming by the roads, we could have kept track of them, even if they beat us, and some of these laddies could have stuck to them and followed them up till help came. It can’t be such an easy job to carry a young lady against her will along Scotch roads. But the sea’s a different matter. If they’ve got a fast boat they could be out of the Firth and away beyond the law before we could wake up a single policeman. Ay, and even if the Government took it up and warned all the ports and ships at sea, what’s to hinder them to find a hidy-hole about Ireland—or Norway? I tell you, it’s a far more desperate business than I thought, and it’ll no’ do to wait on and trust that the Chief Constable will turn up afore the mischief’s done.”

      “The moral,” said Heritage, “is that there can be no surrender. We’ve got to stick it out in this old place at all costs.”

      “No,” said Dickson emphatically. “The moral is that we must shift the ladies. We’ve got the chance while Dobson and his friends are locked up. Let’s get them as far away as we can from the sea. They’re far safer tramping the moors, and it’s no’ likely the new folk will dare to follow us.”

      “But I cannot go.” Saskia, who had been listening intently, shook her head. “I promised to wait here till my friend came. If I leave I shall never find him.”

      “If you stay you certainly never will, for you’ll be away with the ruffians. Take a sensible view, Mem. You’ll be no good to your friend or your friend to you if before night you’re rocking in a ship.”

      The girl shook her head again, gently but decisively. “It was our arrangement. I cannot break it. Besides, I am sure that he will come in time, for he has never failed—”

      There was a desperate finality about the quiet tones and the weary face with the shadow of a smile on it.

      Then Heritage spoke. “I don’t think your plan will quite do, Dogson. Supposing we all break for the hinterland and the Danish brig finds the birds flown, that won’t end the trouble. They will get on the Princess’s trail, and the whole persecution will start again. I want to see things brought to a head here and now. If we can stick it out here long enough, we may trap the whole push and rid the world of a pretty gang of miscreants. Let them show their hand, and then, if the police are here by that time, we can jug the lot for piracy or something worse.”

      “That’s all right,” said Dougal, “but we’d put up a better fight if we had the women off our mind. I’ve aye read that when a castle was going to be besieged the first thing was to get rid of the civilians.”

      “Sensible to the last, Dougal,” said Dickson approvingly. “That’s just what I’m saying. I’m strong for a fight, but put the ladies in a safe bit first, for they’re our weak point.”

      “Do you think that if you were fighting my enemies I would consent to be absent?” came Saskia’s reproachful question.

      “‘Deed no, Mem,” said Dickson heartily. His martial spirit was with Heritage, but his prudence did not sleep, and he suddenly saw a way of placating both. “Just you listen to what I propose. What do we amount to? Mr. Heritage, six laddies, and myself—and I’m no more used to fighting than an old wife. We’ve seven desperate villains against us, and afore night they may be seventy. We’ve a fine old castle here, but for defence we want more than stone walls—we want a garrison. I tell you we must get help somewhere. Ay, but how, says you? Well, coming here I noticed a gentleman’s house away up ayont the railway and close to the hills. The laird’s maybe not at home, but there will be men there of some kind—gamekeepers and woodmen and such like. My plan is to go there at once and ask for help. Now, it’s useless me going alone, for nobody would listen to me. They’d tell me to go back to the shop or they’d think me demented. But with you, Mem, it would be a different matter. They wouldn’t disbelieve you. So I want you to come with me, and to come at once,