Kidnapped. Stevenson Robert Louis


Kidnapped

Kidnapped - Stevenson Robert Louis

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IS STEVENSON

      Kidnapped

      KIDNAPPED

      The years after 1745 were an unhappy time for Scotland. The Highlanders had fought against King George of England, and lost, and now his soldiers were driving many Highlanders out of their homes.

      David Balfour is from the Scottish Lowlands and is not worried by the English soldiers. When he leaves his home to begin a new life, he is not looking for trouble and danger. But trouble quickly comes to him. He meets his rich uncle, who is not at all pleased to learn that he has a poor nephew. One danger follows another, and David finds himself in the Highlands, where he meets Alan Breck, a proud Stewart. The Stewarts hate both the English and the Campbells, who work for King George, so Alan is a dangerous friend for David to have.

      Then murder is done, and David and Alan are on the run for their lives across the mountains …

Great Clarendon Street, Oxford OX2 6DPOxford University Press is a department of the University of OxfordIt furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide inOxford New YorkAuckland Cape Town Dar es Salaam Hong Kong Karachi Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Nairobi New Delhi Shanghai Taipei TorontoWith offices inArgentina Austria Brazil Chile Czech Republic France Greece Guatemala Hungary Italy Japan Poland Portugal Singapore South Korea Switzerland Thailand Turkey Ukraine VietnamOXFORD and OXFORD ENGLISH are registered trade marks of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countriesThis simplified edition © Oxford University Press 2008Database right Oxford University Press (maker)First published in Oxford Bookworms 19952 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1No unauthorized photocopyingAll rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the ELT Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address aboveYou must not circulate this book in any other binding or cover and you must impose this same condition on any acquirerAny websites referred to in this publication are in the public domain and their addresses are provided by Oxford University Press for information only. Oxford University Press disclaims any responsibility for the contentISBN 978 0 19 479120 5Typeset by Wyvern Typesetting Ltd, BristolACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Illustrated by: Chris Koelle/Portland Studios, Greenville, USAWord count (main text): 12,435 wordsFor more information on the Oxford Bookworms Library, visit www.oup.com/bookwormswww.oup.com/bookwormse-Book ISBN 978 0 19 478667 6e-Book first published 2012

      1

      David meets his uncle

      It was early in the month of June, 1751, when I shut the door of our house behind me for the last time. All my life I had lived in the quiet little village of Essendean, in the Lowlands of Scotland, where my father had been the dominie, or schoolteacher. But now that he and my mother were both dead, I had to leave the house. The new dominie would soon arrive, and he would teach at the school and live in the dominie’s house. So, although I was only seventeen, there was nowhere for me to live, and no reason for me to stay in Essendean.

      But my heart was beating with excitement as I walked down the road, because in my hand I carried the letter that my father had given me just before he died. ‘Davie,’ he had said, ‘when I am dead, take this to the house of Shaws, near Cramond. That’s where I came from, and that’s where you must go. Put this letter into the hands of Ebenezer Balfour.’

      Balfour! The same name as my own! It was the first time I had heard of any of our family outside Essendean.

      So I decided to walk to Cramond, hoping that perhaps this Mr Balfour, in his fine big house, would receive me kindly, and help me to become a rich man one day. With my plaid over my shoulder, I walked fast up the hill away from the village. What an adventure, to leave that sleepy place, where nothing ever happened, and go to a great, busy house, to be with rich and important people of my own name and blood! But when I reached the top of the hill, I turned a little sadly, to take my last look at the dominie’s house, and Essendean churchyard, where my father and mother lay.

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