JOHN BUCHAN Ultimate Collection: Spy Classics, Thrillers, Adventure Novels & Short Stories, Including Historical Works and Essays (Illustrated). Buchan John
down, and the quest was not easy. Dickson had come to the conclusion that he was on the wrong road, when he was summoned by a voice which seemed to arise out of the ground.
“Who goes there?”
“What’s that you say?”
“Who goes there?” The point of a pole was held firmly against his chest.
“I’m Mr. McCunn, a friend of Dougal’s.”
“Stand, friend.” The shadow before him whistled and another shadow appeared. “Report to the Chief that there’s a man here, name o’ McCunn, seekin’ for him.”
Presently the messenger returned with Dougal and a cheap lantern which he flashed in Dickson’s face.
“Oh, it’s you,” said that leader, who had his jaw bound up as if he had the toothache. “What are ye doing back here?”
“To tell the truth, Dougal,” was the answer, “I couldn’t stay away. I was fair miserable when I thought of Mr. Heritage and you laddies left to yourselves. My conscience simply wouldn’t let me stop at home, so here I am.”
Dougal grunted, but clearly he approved, for from that moment he treated Dickson with a new respect. Formerly when he had referred to him at all it had been as “auld McCunn.” Now it was “Mister McCunn.” He was given rank as a worthy civilian ally. The bivouac was a cheerful place in the wet night. A great fire of pine roots and old paling posts hissed in the fine rain, and around it crouched several urchins busy making oatmeal cakes in the embers. On one side a respectable lean-to had been constructed by nailing a plank to two fir-trees, running sloping poles thence to the ground, and thatching the whole with spruce branches and heather. On the other side two small dilapidated home-made tents were pitched. Dougal motioned his companion into the lean-to, where they had some privacy from the rest of the band.
“Well, what’s your news?” Dickson asked. He noticed that the Chieftain seemed to have been comprehensively in the wars, for apart from the bandage on his jaw, he had numerous small cuts on his brow, and a great rent in one of his shirt sleeves. Also he appeared to be going lame, and when he spoke a new gap was revealed in his large teeth.
“Things,” said Dougal solemnly, “has come to a bonny cripus. This very night we’ve been in a battle.”
He spat fiercely, and the light of war burned in his eyes.
“It was the tinklers from the Garple Dean. They yokit on us about seven o’clock, just at the darkenin’. First they tried to bounce us. We weren’t wanted here, they said, so we’d better clear. I telled them that it was them that wasn’t wanted. ‘Awa’ to Finnick,’ says I. ‘D’ye think we take our orders from dirty ne’er-do-weels like you?’ ‘By God,’ says they, ‘we’ll cut your lights out,’ and then the battle started.”
“What happened?’ Dickson asked excitedly.
“They were four muckle men against six laddies, and they thought they had an easy job! Little they kenned the Gorbals Die-Hards! I had been expectin’ something of the kind, and had made my plans. They first tried to pu’ down our tents and burn them. I let them get within five yards, reservin’ my fire. The first volley—stones from our hands and our catties—halted them, and before they could recover three of us had got hold o’ burnin’ sticks frae the fire and were lammin’ into them. We kinnled their claes, and they fell back swearin’ and stampin’ to get the fire out. Then I gave the word and we were on them wi’ our pales, usin’ the points accordin’ to instructions. My orders was to keep a good distance, for if they had grippit one o’ us he’d ha’ been done for. They were roarin’ mad by now, and twae had out their knives, but they couldn’t do muckle, for it was gettin’ dark, and they didn’t ken the ground like us, and were aye trippin’ and tumblin’. But they pressed us hard, and one o’ them landed me an awful clype on the jaw. They were still aiming at our tents, and I saw that if they got near the fire again it would be the end o’ us. So I blew my whistle for Thomas Yownie, who was in command o’ the other half of us, with instructions to fall upon their rear. That brought Thomas up, and the tinklers had to face round about and fight a battle on two fronts. We charged them and they broke, and the last seen o’ them they were coolin’ their burns in the Garple.”
“Well done, man. Had you many casualties?”
“We’re a’ a wee thing battered, but nothing to hurt. I’m the worst, for one o’ them had a grip o’ me for about three seconds, and Gosh! he was fierce.”
“They’re beaten off for the night, anyway?”
“Ay, for the night. But they’ll come back, never fear. That’s why I said that things had come to a cripus.”
“What’s the news from the House?”
“A quiet day, and no word o’ Lean or Dobson.”
Dickson nodded. “They were hunting me.”
“Mr. Heritage has gone to bide in the Hoose. They were watchin’ the Garple Dean, so I took him round by the Laver foot and up the rocks. He’s a souple yin, yon. We fund a road up the rocks and got in by the verandy. Did ye ken that the lassie had a pistol? Well, she has, and it seems that Mr. Heritage is a good shot wi’ a pistol, so there’s some hope thereaways… Are the jools safe?”
“Safe in the bank. But the jools were not the main thing.”
Dougal nodded. “So I was thinkin’. The lassie wasn’t muckle the easier for gettin’ rid o’ them. I didn’t just quite understand what she said to Mr. Heritage, for they were aye wanderin’ into foreign langwidges, but it seems she’s terrible feared o’ somebody that may turn up any moment. What’s the reason I can’t say. She’s maybe got a secret, or maybe it’s just that she’s ower bonny.”
“That’s the trouble,” said Dickson, and proceeded to recount his interview with the factor, to which Dougal gave close attention. “Now the way I read the thing is this. There’s a plot to kidnap that lady for some infernal purpose, and it depends on the arrival of some person or persons, and it’s due to happen in the next day or two. If we try to work it through the police alone, they’ll beat us, for Loudon will manage to hang the business up until it’s too late. So we must take on the job ourselves. We must stand a siege, Mr. Heritage and me and you laddies, and for that purpose we’d better all keep together. It won’t be extra easy to carry her off from all of us, and if they do manage it we’ll stick to their heels… Man, Dougal, isn’t it a queer thing that whiles law-abiding folk have to make their own laws?… So my plan is that the lot of us get into the House and form a garrison. If you don’t, the tinklers will come back and you’ll no’ beat them in the daylight.”
“I doubt no’,” said Dougal. “But what about our meat?”
“We must lay in provisions. We’ll get what we can from Mrs. Morran, and I’ve left a big box of fancy things at Dalquharter station. Can you laddies manage to get it down here?”
Dougal reflected. “Ay, we can hire Mrs. Sempill’s powny, the same that fetched our kit.”
“Well, that’s your job to-morrow. See, I’ll write you a line to the station-master. And will you undertake to get it some way into the House?”
“There’s just the one road open—by the rocks. It’ll have to be done. It CAN be done.”
“And I’ve another job. I’m writing this telegram to a friend in Glasgow who will put a spoke in Mr. Loudon’s wheel. I want one of you to go to Kirkmichael to send it from the telegraph office there.”
Dougal placed the wire to Mr. Caw in his bosom. “What about yourself? We want somebody outside to keep his eyes open. It’s bad strawtegy to cut off your communications.”
Dickson thought for a moment. “I believe you’re right. I believe the best plan for me is to go back to Mrs. Morran’s as soon as the old body’s like to be awake. You can always get at me there, for it’s easy to slip into her back kitchen without