Waverley + Guy Mannering + The Antiquary. Walter Scott

need her help ony langer, I ken nought to hinder me to marry her mysell.’

      ‘Gallantly resolved,’ said Edward; ‘but, in the meanwhile, Evan, what has your father-in-law (that shall be, if he have the good fortune to be hanged) done with the Baron’s cattle?’

      ‘Oich,’ answered Evan,‘they were all trudging before your lad and Allan Kennedy before the sun blinked ower Ben Lawers this morning; and they’ll be in the pass of Bally-Brough by this time, in their way back to the parks of Tully-Veolan, all but two, that were unhappily slaughtered before I got last night to Uaimh an Ri.’

      ‘And where are we going, Evan, if I may be so bold as to ask?’ said Waverley.

      ‘Where would you be ganging, but to the Laird’s ain house of Glennaquoich? Ye would not think to be in his country, without ganging to see him? It would be as much as a man’s life’s worth.’

      ‘And are we far from Glennaquoich?’

      ‘But five bits of miles; and Vich Ian Vohr will meet us.’

      In about half an hour they reached the upper end of the lake, where, after landing Waverley, the two Highanders drew the boat into a little creek among thick flags and reeds, where it lay perfectly concealed. The oars they put in another place of concealment, both for the use of Donald Bean Lean probably, when his occasions should next bring him to that place.

      The travellers followed for some time a delightful opening into the hills, down which a little brook found its way to the lake. When they had pursued their walk a short distance, Waverley renewed his questions about their host of the cavern.

      ‘Does he always reside in that cave?’

      ‘Out, no! it’s past the skill of man to tell where he’s to be found at a’ times; there’s not a dern nook, or cove, or corrie, in the whole country that he’s not acquainted with.’

      ‘And do others beside your master shelter him?’

      ‘My master? MY master is in Heaven,’ answered Evan, haughtily; and then immediately assuming his usual civility of manner, ‘but you mean my Chief; — no, he does not shelter Donald Bean Lean, nor any that are like him; he only allows him (with a smile) wood and water.’

      ‘No great boon, I should think, Evan, when both seem to be very plenty.’

      ‘Ah! but ye dinna see through it. When I say wood and water, I mean the loch and the land; and I fancy Donald would be put till ‘t if the Laird were to look for him wi’ threescore men in the wood of Kailychat yonder; and if our boats, with a score or twa mair, were to come down the loch to Uaimh an Ri, headed by mysell, or ony other pretty man.’

      ‘But suppose a strong party came against him from the Low Country, would not your Chief defend him?’

      ‘Na, he would not ware the spark of a flint for him — if they came with the law.’

      ‘And what must Donald do, then?’

      ‘He behoved to rid this country of himsell, and fall back, it may be, over the mount upon Letter Scriven.’

      ‘And if he were pursued to that place?’

      ‘I’se warrant he would go to his cousin’s at Rannoch.’

      ‘Well, but if they followed him to Rannoch?’

      ‘That,’ quoth Evan, ‘is beyond all belief; and, indeed, to tell you the truth, there durst not a Lowlander in all Scotland follow the fray a gun-shot beyond Bally-Brough, unless he had the help of the Sidier Dhu.’

      ‘Whom do you call so?’

      ‘The Sidier Dhu? the black soldier; that is what they call the independent companies that were raised to keep peace and law in the Highlands. Vich Ian Vohr commanded one of them for five years, and I was sergeant mysell, I shall warrant ye. They call them Sidier Dhu because they wear the tartans, as they call your men — King George’s men — Sidier Roy, or red soldiers.’

      ‘Well, but when you were in King George’s pay, Evan, you were surely King George’s soldiers?’

      ‘Troth, and you must ask Vich Ian Vohr about that; for we are for his king, and care not much which o’ them it is. At ony rate, nobody can say we are King George’s men now, when we have not seen his pay this twelve-month.’

      This last argument admitted of no reply, nor did Edward attempt any; he rather chose to bring back the discourse to Donald Bean Lean. ‘Does Donald confine himself to cattle, or does he LIFT, as you call it, anything else that comes in his way?’

      ‘Troth, he’s nae nice body, and he’ll just tak onything, but most readily cattle, horse, or live Christians; for sheep are slow of travel, and inside plenishing is cumbrous to carry, and not easy to put away for siller in this country.’

      ‘But does he carry off men and women?’

      ‘Out, ay. Did not ye hear him speak o’ the Perth bailie? It cost that body five hundred merks ere he got to the south of Bally-Brough. And ance Donald played a pretty sport. ⁴³ There was to be a blythe bridal between the Lady Cramfeezer, in the howe o’ the Mearns (she was the auld laird’s widow, and no sae young as she had been hersell), and young Gilliewhackit, who had spent his heirship and movables, like a gentleman, at cock-matches, bull-baitings, horse-races, and the like. Now, Donald Bean Lean, being aware that the bridegroom was in request, and wanting to cleik the cunzie (that is, to hook the siller), he cannily carried off Gilliewhackit ae night when he was riding dovering hame (wi’ the malt rather abune the meal), and with the help of his gillies he gat him into the hills with the speed of light, and the first place he wakened in was the cove of Uaimh an Ri. So there was old to do about ransoming the bridegroom; for Donald would not lower a farthing of a thousand punds — ’

      ‘The devil!’

      ‘Punds Scottish, ye shall understand. And the lady had not the siller if she had pawned her gown; and they applied to the governor o’ Stirling castle, and to the major o’ the Black Watch; and the governor said it was ower far to the northward, and out of his district; and the major said his men were gane hame to the shearing, and he would not call them out before the victual was got in for all the Cramfeezers in Christendom, let alane the Mearns, for that it would prejudice the country. And in the meanwhile ye’ll no hinder Gilliewhackit to take the small-pox. There was not the doctor in Perth or Stirling would look near the poor lad; and I cannot blame them, for Donald had been misguggled by ane of these doctors about Paris, and he swore he would fling the first into the loch that he catched beyond the pass. However some cailliachs (that is, old women) that were about Donald’s hand nursed Gilliewhackit sae weel that, between the free open air in the cove and the fresh whey, deil an he did not recover maybe as weel as if he had been closed in a glazed chamber and a bed with curtains, and fed with red wine and white meat. And Donald was sae vexed about it that, when he was stout and weel, he even sent him free home, and said he would be pleased with onything they would like to gie him for the plague and trouble which he had about Gilliewhackit to an unkenn’d degree. And I cannot tell you precisely how they sorted; but they agreed sae right that Donald was invited to dance at the wedding in his Highland trews, and they said that there was never sae meikle siller clinked in his purse either before or since. And to the boot of all that, Gilliewhackit said that, be the evidence what it liked, if he had the luck to be on Donald’s inquest, he would bring him in guilty of nothing whatever, unless it were wilful arson or murder under trust.’

      With such bald and disjointed chat Evan went on illustrating the existing state of the Highlands, more perhaps to the amusement of Waverley than that of our readers. At length, after having marched over bank and brae, moss and heather, Edward, though not unacquainted with the Scottish liberality in computing distance, began to think that Evan’s five miles were nearly doubled. His observation on the large measure which the Scottish allowed of their land, in comparison to the computation of their money, was readily answered by Evan with the old jest, ‘The deil take them wha have the least pint stoup.’