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<h2> CHAPTER XX </h2>
<h3> THE FLIGHT IN THE HEATHER: THE ROCKS </h3>
<p>Sometimes we walked, sometimes ran; and as it drew on to morning, walked
ever the less and ran the more. Though, upon its face, that country
appeared to be a desert, yet there were huts and houses of the people, of
which we must have passed more than twenty, hidden in quiet places of the
hills. When we came to one of these, Alan would leave me in the way, and
go himself and rap upon the side of the house and speak awhile at the
window with some sleeper awakened. This was to pass the news; which, in
that country, was so much of a duty that Alan must pause to attend to it
even while fleeing for his life; and so well attended to by others, that
in more than half of the houses where we called they had heard already of
the murder. In the others, as well as I could make out (standing back at a
distance and hearing a strange tongue), the news was received with more of
consternation than surprise.</p>
<p>For all our hurry, day began to come in while we were still far from any
shelter. It found us in a prodigious valley, strewn with rocks and where
ran a foaming river. Wild mountains stood around it; there grew there
neither grass nor trees; and I have sometimes thought since then, that it
may have been the valley called Glencoe, where the massacre was in the
time of King William. But for the details of our itinerary, I am all to
seek; our way lying now by short cuts, now by great detours; our pace
being so hurried, our time of journeying usually by night; and the names
of such places as I asked and heard being in the Gaelic tongue and the
more easily forgotten.</p>
<p>The first peep of morning, then, showed us this horrible place, and I
could see Alan knit his brow.</p>
<p>"This is no fit place for you and me," he said. "This is a place they're
bound to watch."</p>
<p>And with that he ran harder than ever down to the water-side, in a part
where the river was split in two among three rocks. It went through with a
horrid thundering that made my belly quake; and there hung over the lynn a
little mist of spray. Alan looked neither to the right nor to the left,
but jumped clean upon the middle rock and fell there on his hands and
knees to check himself, for that rock was small and he might have pitched
over on the far side. I had scarce time to measure the distance or to
understand the peril before I had followed him, and he had caught and
stopped me.</p>
<p>So there we stood, side by side upon a small rock slippery with spray, a
far broader leap in front of us, and the river dinning upon all sides.
When I saw where I was, there came on me a deadly sickness of fear, and I
put my hand over my eyes. Alan took me and shook me; I saw he was
speaking, but the roaring of the falls and the trouble of my mind
prevented me from hearing; only I saw his face was red with anger, and
that he stamped upon the rock. The same look showed me the water raging
by, and the mist hanging in the air: and with that I covered my eyes again
and shuddered.</p>
<p>The next minute Alan had set the brandy bottle to my lips, and forced me
to drink about a gill, which sent the blood into my head again. Then,
putting his hands to his mouth, and his mouth to my ear, he shouted, "Hang
or drown!" and turning his back upon me, leaped over the farther branch of
the stream, and landed safe.</p>
<p>I was now alone upon the rock, which gave me the more room; the brandy was
singing in my ears; I had this good example fresh before me, and just wit
enough to see that if I did not leap at once, I should never leap at all.
I bent low on my knees and flung myself forth, with that kind of anger of
despair that has sometimes stood me in stead of courage. Sure enough, it
was but my hands that reached the full length; these slipped, caught
again, slipped again; and I was sliddering back into the lynn, when Alan
seized me, first by the hair, then by the collar, and with a great strain
dragged me into safety.</p>
<p>Never a word he said, but set off running again for his life, and I must
stagger to my feet and run after him. I had been weary before, but now I
was sick and bruised, and partly drunken with the brandy; I kept stumbling
as I ran, I had a stitch that came near to overmaster me; and when at last
Alan paused under a great rock that stood there among a number of others,
it was none too soon for David Balfour.</p>
<p>A great rock I have said; but by rights it was two rocks leaning together
at the top, both some twenty feet high, and at the first sight
inaccessible. Even Alan (though you may say he had as good as four hands)
failed twice in an attempt to climb them; and it was only at the third
trial, and then by standing on my shoulders and leaping up with such force
as I thought must have broken my collar-bone, that he secured a lodgment.
Once there, he let down his leathern girdle; and with the aid of that and
a pair of shallow footholds in the rock, I scrambled up beside him.</p>
<p>Then I saw why we had come there; for the two rocks, being both somewhat
hollow on the top and sloping one to the other, made a kind of dish or
saucer, where as many as three or four men might have lain hidden.</p>
<p>All this while Alan had not said a word, and had run and climbed with such
a savage, silent frenzy of hurry, that I knew that he was in mortal fear
of some miscarriage. Even now we were on the rock he said nothing, nor so
much as relaxed the frowning look upon his face; but clapped flat down,
and keeping only one eye above the edge of our place of shelter scouted
all round the compass. The dawn had come quite clear; we could see the
stony sides of the valley, and its bottom, which was bestrewed with rocks,
and the river, which went from one side to another, and made white falls;
but nowhere the smoke of a house, nor any living creature but some eagles
screaming round a cliff.</p>
<p>Then at last Alan smiled.</p>
<p>"Ay" said he, "now we have a chance;" and then looking at me with some
amusement, "Ye're no very gleg* at the jumping," said he.</p>
<p>* Brisk.<br/></p>
<p>At this I suppose I coloured with mortification, for he added at once,
"Hoots! small blame to ye! To be feared of a thing and yet to do it, is
what makes the prettiest kind of a man. And then there was water there,
and water's a thing that dauntons even me. No, no," said Alan, "it's no
you that's to blame, it's me."</p>
<p>I asked him why.</p>
<p>"Why," said he, "I have proved myself a gomeral this night. For first of
all I take a wrong road, and that in my own country of Appin; so that the
day has caught us where we should never have been; and thanks to that, we
lie here in some danger and mair discomfort. And next (which is the worst
of the two, for a man that has been so much among the heather as myself) I
have come wanting a water-bottle, and here we lie for a long summer's day
with naething but neat spirit. Ye may think that a small matter; but
before it comes night, David, ye'll give me news of it."</p>
<p>I was anxious to redeem my character, and offered, if he would pour out
the brandy, to run down and fill the bottle at the river.</p>
<p>"I wouldnae waste the good spirit either," says he. "It's been a good
friend to you this night; or in my poor opinion, ye would still be cocking
on yon stone. And what's mair," says he, "ye may have observed (you that's
a man of so much penetration) that Alan Breck Stewart was perhaps walking
quicker than his ordinar'."</p>
<p>"You!" I cried, "you were running fit to burst."</p>
<p>"Was I so?" said he. "Well, then, ye may depend upon it, there was nae
time to be lost. And now here is enough said; gang you to your sleep, lad,
and I'll watch."</p>
<p>Accordingly, I lay down to sleep; a little peaty earth had drifted in
between the top of the two rocks, and some bracken grew there, to be a bed
to me; the last thing I heard was still the crying of the eagles.</p>
<p>I dare say it would be nine in the morning when I was roughly awakened,
and found Alan's hand pressed upon my mouth.</p>
<p>"Wheesht!" he whispered. "Ye were snoring."</p>
<p>"Well," said I, surprised at his anxious and dark face, "and why not?"</p>
<p>He peered over the edge of the rock, and signed to me to do the like.</p>
<p>It was now high day, cloudless, and very hot. The valley was as clear as
in a picture. About half a mile up the water was a camp of red-coats; a
big fire blazed in their midst, at which some were cooking; and near by,
on the top of a rock about as high as ours, there stood a sentry, with the
sun sparkling on his arms. All the way down along the river-side were
posted other sentries; here near together, there widelier scattered; some
planted like the first, on places of command, some on the ground level and
marching and counter-marching, so as to meet half-way. Higher up the glen,
where the ground was more open, the chain of posts was continued by
horse-soldiers, whom we could see in the distance riding to and fro. Lower
down, the infantry continued; but as the stream was suddenly swelled by
the confluence of a considerable burn, they were more widely set, and only
watched the fords and stepping-stones.</p>
<p>I took but one look at them, and ducked again into my place. It was
strange indeed to see this valley, which had lain so solitary in the hour
of dawn, bristling with arms and dotted with the red coats and breeches.</p>
<p>"Ye see," said Alan, "this was what I was afraid of, Davie: that they
would watch the burn-side. They began to come in about two hours ago, and,
man! but ye're a grand hand at the sleeping! We're in a narrow place. If
they get up the sides of the hill, they could easy spy us with a glass;
but if they'll only keep in the foot of the valley, we'll do yet. The
posts are thinner down the water; and, come night, we'll try our hand at
getting by them."</p>
<p>"And what are we to do till night?" I asked.</p>
<p>"Lie here," says he, "and birstle."</p>
<p>That one good Scotch word, "birstle," was indeed the most of the story of
the day that we had now to pass. You are to remember that we lay on the
bare top of a rock, like scones upon a girdle; the sun beat upon us
cruelly; the rock grew so heated, a man could scarce endure the touch of
it; and the little patch of earth and fern, which kept cooler, was only
large enough for one at a time. We took turn about to lie on the naked
rock, which was indeed like the position of that saint that was martyred
on a gridiron; and it ran in my mind how strange it was, that in the same
climate and at only a few days' distance, I should have suffered so
cruelly, first from cold upon my island and now from heat upon this rock.</p>
<p>All the while we had no water, only raw brandy for a drink, which was
worse than nothing; but we kept the bottle as cool as we could, burying it
in the earth, and got some relief by bathing our breasts and temples.</p>
<p>The soldiers kept stirring all day in the bottom of the valley, now
changing guard, now in patrolling parties hunting among the rocks. These
lay round in so great a number, that to look for men among them was like
looking for a needle in a bottle of hay; and being so hopeless a task, it
was gone about with the less care. Yet we could see the soldiers pike
their bayonets among the heather, which sent a cold thrill into my vitals;
and they would sometimes hang about our rock, so that we scarce dared to
breathe.</p>
<p>It was in this way that I first heard the right English speech; one fellow
as he went by actually clapping his hand upon the sunny face of the rock
on which we lay, and plucking it off again with an oath. "I tell you it's
'ot," says he; and I was amazed at the clipping tones and the odd
sing-song in which he spoke, and no less at that strange trick of dropping
out the letter "h." To be sure, I had heard Ransome; but he had taken his
ways from all sorts of people, and spoke so imperfectly at the best, that
I set down the most of it to childishness. My surprise was all the greater
to hear that manner of speaking in the mouth of a grown man; and indeed I
have never grown used to it; nor yet altogether with the English grammar,
as perhaps a very critical eye might here and there spy out even in these
memoirs.</p>
<p>The tediousness and pain of these hours upon the rock grew only the
greater as the day went on; the rock getting still the hotter and the sun
fiercer. There were giddiness, and sickness, and sharp pangs like
rheumatism, to be supported. I minded then, and have often minded since,
on the lines in our Scotch psalm:—</p>
<p>"The moon by night thee shall not smite,<br/>
Nor yet the sun by day;"<br/></p>
<p>and indeed it was only by God's blessing that we were neither of us
sun-smitten.</p>
<p>At last, about two, it was beyond men's bearing, and there was now
temptation to resist, as well as pain to thole. For the sun being now got
a little into the west, there came a patch of shade on the east side of
our rock, which was the side sheltered from the soldiers.</p>
<p>"As well one death as another," said Alan, and slipped over the edge and
dropped on the ground on the shadowy side.</p>
<p>I followed him at once, and instantly fell all my length, so weak was I
and so giddy with that long exposure. Here, then, we lay for an hour or
two, aching from head to foot, as weak as water, and lying quite naked to
the eye of any soldier who should have strolled that way. None came,
however, all passing by on the other side; so that our rock continued to
be our shield even in this new position.</p>
<p>Presently we began again to get a little strength; and as the soldiers
were now lying closer along the river-side, Alan proposed that we should
try a start. I was by this time afraid of but one thing in the world; and
that was to be set back upon the rock; anything else was welcome to me; so
we got ourselves at once in marching order, and began to slip from rock to
rock one after the other, now crawling flat on our bellies in the shade,
now making a run for it, heart in mouth.</p>
<p>The soldiers, having searched this side of the valley after a fashion, and
being perhaps somewhat sleepy with the sultriness of the afternoon, had
now laid by much of their vigilance, and stood dozing at their posts or
only kept a look-out along the banks of the river; so that in this way,
keeping down the valley and at the same time towards the mountains, we
drew steadily away from their neighbourhood. But the business was the most
wearing I had ever taken part in. A man had need of a hundred eyes in
every part of him, to keep concealed in that uneven country and within cry
of so many and scattered sentries. When we must pass an open place,
quickness was not all, but a swift judgment not only of the lie of the
whole country, but of the solidity of every stone on which we must set
foot; for the afternoon was now fallen so breathless that the rolling of a
pebble sounded abroad like a pistol shot, and would start the echo calling
among the hills and cliffs.</p>
<p>By sundown we had made some distance, even by our slow rate of progress,
though to be sure the sentry on the rock was still plainly in our view.
But now we came on something that put all fears out of season; and that
was a deep rushing burn, that tore down, in that part, to join the glen
river. At the sight of this we cast ourselves on the ground and plunged
head and shoulders in the water; and I cannot tell which was the more
pleasant, the great shock as the cool stream went over us, or the greed
with which we drank of it.</p>
<p>We lay there (for the banks hid us), drank again and again, bathed our
chests, let our wrists trail in the running water till they ached with the
chill; and at last, being wonderfully renewed, we got out the meal-bag and
made drammach in the iron pan. This, though it is but cold water mingled
with oatmeal, yet makes a good enough dish for a hungry man; and where
there are no means of making fire, or (as in our case) good reason for not
making one, it is the chief stand-by of those who have taken to the
heather.</p>
<p>As soon as the shadow of the night had fallen, we set forth again, at
first with the same caution, but presently with more boldness, standing
our full height and stepping out at a good pace of walking. The way was
very intricate, lying up the steep sides of mountains and along the brows
of cliffs; clouds had come in with the sunset, and the night was dark and
cool; so that I walked without much fatigue, but in continual fear of
falling and rolling down the mountains, and with no guess at our
direction.</p>
<p>The moon rose at last and found us still on the road; it was in its last
quarter, and was long beset with clouds; but after awhile shone out and
showed me many dark heads of mountains, and was reflected far underneath
us on the narrow arm of a sea-loch.</p>
<p>At this sight we both paused: I struck with wonder to find myself so high
and walking (as it seemed to me) upon clouds; Alan to make sure of his
direction.</p>
<p>Seemingly he was well pleased, and he must certainly have judged us out of
ear-shot of all our enemies; for throughout the rest of our night-march he
beguiled the way with whistling of many tunes, warlike, merry, plaintive;
reel tunes that made the foot go faster; tunes of my own south country
that made me fain to be home from my adventures; and all these, on the
great, dark, desert mountains, making company upon the way.</p>
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