I was a herd3 laddie at the time, like David, keeping my father’s flocks and kicking up my heels among the collie tykes, with many another shepherd-boy in the wide moorish4 parishes of Minnigaff, Dalry and the Kells.
Now my father (and his father before him) had been all his life “indweller” in the hill farm of Ardarroch which sits on the purple braeface above the loch of Ken5, with a little circumambient yard enclosed by cattle-offices and a dozen red-stemmed fir trees, in which the winds and{2} the birds sing after their kind, winter and summer.
A sweet and grateful spot do I now remember that Ardarroch to be, and in these later days when I have tried so mickle of bliss6 and teen, and wearied my life out in so many wanderings and strivings, my heart still goes out kindly7 to the well-beloved place of my bairn-play.
It was the high summer of the fatal year 1685, when I saw the sight which put an end to my childhood. Well do I mind it that year, for amongst others, my father had to go for a while into hiding—not that he was any over-strenuous Covenant8 man, but solely9 because he had never in his life refused bite and sup to any neighbour hard pressed, nor yet to any decent chiel who might scarcely be able to give an account of the quarrel he had with the Tyrant’s laws.
So, during his absence, my brothers and I had the work of the farm to attend to. No dawn of day sifting10 from the east through the greenery of the great sloughing11 beeches12 and firs about the door ever found any of the three of us in our beds. For me, I was up and away to the hills—where sometimes in the full lambing time I would spend all night on the heathery fells or{3} among the lirks and hidden dells of the mountain fastnesses.
And oh, but it was pleasant work and I liked it well! The breathing airs; the wide, starry13 arch I looked up into, when night had drawn14 her night-cap low down over the girdling blue-black hills; the moon glinting on the breast of Loch Ken; the moor-birds, whaup and snipe, plover15 and wild duck cheeping and chummering in their nests, while the wood-doves’ moan rose plaintive16 from every copse and covert—it was a fit birthplace for a young lad’s soul. Though indeed at that time none was farther from guessing it than Quintin MacClellan. For as I went hither and thither17 I pondered on nothing except the fine hunger the hills gave me, and the glorious draughts18 of whey and buttermilk my mother would serve out to me on my return, calling me meantime the greatest and silliest of her calves19, besides tweaking my ears at the milk-house door if she could catch me ere I set my bare legs twinkling down the loaning.
For the time being I say nothing more of my father, “douce John of Ardarroch,” as all the parish called him, save that he was a moderate man and no high-flier as he would have{4} described himself—yet out of whom his wife (and my good mother) had, by the constant dropping of argument, made a Covenant man, and even a fairly consistent follower20 of the Hill Folk. Neither will I bide21 to speak of my brothers Hob and David, for their names and characters will have occasion to appear as I write down my own strange history. Nor yet can I pause to tell of the sweetness and grace of my sister Anna, whose brown eyes held a charm which even my boyish and brotherly insensibility acknowledged and delighted in, being my elder by half-a-dozen years, and growing up amongst us rough louts of the heather like a white rose in the stocky corner of an herb-garden.
For I must tell of myself and what befell me on the Bennan top the twenty-first day of June—high Midsummer Day of the Year Terrible, and of all that it brought to me.
I had heard, indeed, often enough of chasings, of prisonments, of men and women sent away over-seas to the cruel plantations23, of the boot and the thumbscrew, of the blood of slain24 men reddening the heather behind dyke-backs. There was indeed little talk of anything else throughout all the land of the South and West.{5} But it so chanced that our House of Ardarroch, being set high up on the side of Bennan, and with no prominent Covenanters near by to be a mark for the fury of the persecutor25, we MacClellans had thus far escaped unquestioned and scathless.
Once, indeed, Lidderdale of the Isle26, with twenty men, had made us a visitation and inquired somewhat curiously27 of us, and specially28 of my mother, whom we had entertained on such a night and whom on such another. After this occasion it was judged expedient29 that my father should keep wide of his own house for a while, lest the strict laws against intercommuning[1] should lay him by the heels in the gaol30 of Kirkcudbright.
But to the young and healthy—so long at least as there is clothing for the back, good filling for the hungry belly31, and no startling and personal evil befal—tales of ill, unseen and unproven, fall on the ear like the clatter32 of ancient head-shaking beldames croaking33 to each other{6} by unswept ingle-nooks. At least, so it was with me.
But to my tale of Midsummer Day of the Terrible Year.
I had been out, since earliest morn, over the rough rigs of heather looking tentily to my sheep, for I had been “hefting” (as the business is called in our Galloway land) a double score of lambs which had just been brought from a neighbouring lowland farm to summer upon our scanty34 upland pastures. Now it is the nature of sheep to return if they can to their mother-hill, or, at least, to stray further and further seeking some well-known landmark35. So, till such new-comers grow satisfied and “heft” (or attach) themselves to the soil, they must be watched carefully both night and day.
I was at this time thirteen years of my age, well nourished and light of foot as a mountain goat. Indeed, there was not a goat in the herd that I could not run down and grip by the neck. And when Hob, my elder brother, would take after me because of some mischief36 I had wrought37, I warrant he had a long chase and a sore sweat before he caught me, if I got but ten yards’ start and the heather free before me.
This day I had a couple of fine muckle{7} scones38 in my pocket, which my mother had given me, besides one I had purloined39 for myself when she was not looking, but which my sister Anna had seen me take and silently shaken her head. That, however, I minded not a fly. Also I snatched up a little square book from the window-sill, hoping that in it I might find some entertainment to while away the hours in the bield of some granite40 stone or behind some bush of heather. But I found it to be the collect of Mr. Samuel Rutherford, his letters from Aberdeen and Anwoth, and at first I counted the reading of it dull enough work. But afterwards, because of the names of kenned41 places in our Galloway and also the fine well-smacking Scottish words in it, I liked it none so ill.
Ashie and Gray, my dogs, sat on either side of me. Brother and sister they were, of one year and litter, yet diverse as any human brother and sister—Ashie being gay and frisky42, ever full of freits and caperings; his sister Gray, on the other hand, sober as a hill-preaching when Clavers is out on the heather looking for it.
As for Ashie, he nipped himself in the flank and pursued after his own tail as if he had taken some ill-will at it. But old-maidish Gray sat{8} erect43, cocking her short ears and keeping a sharp eye on the “hefting” lambs, which went aimlessly straying and cropping below, seeking in vain for holms as kindly and pastures as succulent as those of the valley-crofts from which my father had driven them a day or two before.
For myself, in the intervals44 of my reading, I had been singing a merry stave, one you may be sure that I did not let my mother or my sister Anna hear. I had learnt it from wild David, who had brought the broad sheet back with him from Keltonhill Fair. Thus I had been carolling, gay as the laverock which I watched flirting45 and pulsing upwards46 out of the dun bents of the fell. But after a while the small print of my book and, perhaps, also the high instructiveness of the matter inclined me towards sleep.
The bleating48 of the sundered49 lambs desirous of lost motherly udders fell more soothingly50 and plaintively51 upon my ear. It seemed to bring dreams pleasant and delightful52 with it. I heard the note sink and change to that heavenly murmuring that comes with drowsiness54, or which, mayhap, is but the sound of the porter opening the Poppy Gates of sleep—and which may break yet more delightfully55 on our ears{9} when the gates that open for us are the gates of death.
I suppose that all the afternoon the whaups had piped and “willywhaaed,” the snipes bleated56 and whinnied overhead, and that the peewits had complained to each other of the question boy-beast below them, which ran on two legs and waved other two so foolishly in the air. But I did not hear them. My ears were dulled. The moorland sounds melted deliciously into the very sough and murmur53 of reposefulness. I was already well on my way to Drowsieland. I heard my mother sing me a lullaby somewhere among the tranced fields. Suddenly the cradle-song ceased. Through shut eyelids57 I grew conscious of a disturbing influence. Though my face nestled deep down in the crook58 of my arm I knew that Ashie and Gray had all suddenly sat up.
“Ouf-f!” quoth Ashie protestingly, deep in his stomach so that the sound would carry no further than his master’s ear.
“Gur-r-r!” growled59 Gray, his sister, yet more softly, the black wicks of her mouth pulled away from her wicked shining eye-teeth.
Thinking that the sheep were straying and that it might be as well by a timely shout to{10} save myself miles and miles of hot chase over the heather, I sat up, ungraciously discontented to be thus aroused, and yet more unreasonably60 angry with the dogs whose watchfulness61 had recalled me to the realities of life. As I raised my head, the sounds of the hills broke on my ear suddenly loud—indeed almost insolently62 insistant. The suppressed far-away hush63 of Dreamland scattered64 itself like a broken glass before the brisk clamour of the broad wind-stirred day.
I glanced at the flock beneath me. They were feeding and straying quietly enough—rather widely perhaps, but nothing to make a fret65 about.
“Restless tykes!” I muttered irritably66, striking right and left at the dogs with my staff. “De’il take you, silly beasts that ye are!”
“Ouf-f!” said Ashie, warningly as before, but from a safer distance, his nose pointing directly away from the hefting lambs. Gray said nothing, but uncovered her shining teeth a little further and cocked her ears more directly towards the summit of the Bennan behind me.
I looked about me high and low, but still I could see no cause for alarm.{11}
“Daft brutes67! Silly beasts!” I cried again more crossly than ever. And with that I was about to consign68 myself to sleep again, or at least to seek the pleasant paths of the day-dreamland from which I had been so abruptly69 recalled.
But the dogs with bristling70 hair, cocked ears and proudly-plumaged tails were already ten yards up the slope towards the top of the fell, sniffing71 belligerently72 as though they scented73 an intrusive74 stranger dog at the entering in of the sacred enclosure of the farmyard of Ardarroch.
I was reaching for my stick to deal it liberally between them when a waft75 of warm summer wind brought to my ear the sound of the distant crying of men. Then came the clear, imperative76 “Crack! Crack!” of musket77 shots—first two, and then half-a-dozen close together, sharp and distinct as an eager schoolboy snapping his finger and thumb to call the attention of the master to whom he has been forbidden to speak.
Then, again, on the back of this arrived silence, issuing presently in a great disturbed clamour of peewit flocks on the table-lands above me, clouds of them stooping and swooping,{12} screaming and scolding at some unlicensed and unprincipled intruders by me unseen.
I knew well what it meant in a moment. The man-hunt was afoot. The folk of God were once more being pursued like the partridge upon the mountain. It might be that the blood of my own father was even now making another crimson78 blossom of martyr79 blood upon the moors80 of Scotland.
“Down, down, Ashie!” I cried, but under my breath. “Come in to my foot, Gray!” And, knowing by the voice that I was much in earnest, very obediently the dogs slung81 behind with, however, many little protesting “gurrs” and chest rumblings of muffled82 rage.
“It must be Lag himself from the Garry-horn,” I thought; “he will be at his old work of pursuing the wanderers with bloodhound and troop-horse.”
Then, with the craft which had perhaps been born in me and which had certainly been fostered by the years of watching and hiding, of open hatred83 and secret suspicion, I crept cautiously up the side of the fell, taking advantage of every tummock of heather and boss of tall bent47 grass. Ashie and Gray crawled after me, stiff with intent hate, but every whit22 as flatly{13} prone84 and as infinitely85 cautious as their master.
For they, too, had been born in the Days of Fear, and the spirit of the game had entered into them ere ever they emerged from the blindness of puppydom.
As we ascended86, nearer and nearer sounded the turmoil87. I heard, as it were, the sound of men’s voices encouraging each other, as the huntsmen do on the hillsides when they drive the red fox from his lair88. Then came the baying of dogs and the clattering89 of irregular musketry.
Till now the collies and I had been sheltered by the grey clints and lichened90 rocks of the Bennan, but now we had to come out into the open. The last thirty yards of ascent91 were bare and shelterless, the short, mossy scalp of turf upon them being clean shaven as if cut with a razor.
My heart beat fast, I can tell you who read this tale so comfortably by the ingle-nook. I held it down with my hand as I crept upwards. Ashie and Gray followed like four-footed guardian92 angels behind, now dragging themselves painfully yard by yard upon their bellies93, now lying motionless as stone statues, their moist{14} jowls pressed to the ground and their dilated94 nostrils95 snuffing the air for the intelligence which only my duller eyes could bring me.
Yet I knew the risks of the attempt. For as soon as I had left the shelter of the boulders96 and scattered clumps97 of heather and bent, I was plain to the sight as a fly crawling over the shell of an egg.
Nevertheless, with a quick rush I reached the top and set my head over.{15}
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1
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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chafe
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| v.擦伤；冲洗；惹怒 | |
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herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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moorish
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| adj.沼地的，荒野的，生[住]在沼地的 | |
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ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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covenant
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| n.盟约，契约；v.订盟约 | |
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solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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sifting
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| n.筛，过滤v.筛( sift的现在分词 )；筛滤；细查；详审 | |
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sloughing
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| v.使蜕下或脱落( slough的现在分词 )；舍弃；除掉；摒弃 | |
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beeches
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| n.山毛榉( beech的名词复数 )；山毛榉木材 | |
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starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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plover
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| n.珩，珩科鸟，千鸟 | |
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plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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follower
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| n.跟随者；随员；门徒；信徒 | |
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bide
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| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
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whit
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| n.一点，丝毫 | |
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plantations
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| n.种植园，大农场( plantation的名词复数 ) | |
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slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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persecutor
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| n. 迫害者 | |
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isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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gaol
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| n.(jail)监狱；(不加冠词)监禁；vt.使…坐牢 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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croaking
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的现在分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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landmark
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| n.陆标，划时代的事，地界标 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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scones
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| n.烤饼，烤小圆面包( scone的名词复数 ) | |
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purloined
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| v.偷窃( purloin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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kenned
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| v.知道( ken的过去式和过去分词 )；懂得；看到；认出 | |
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frisky
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| adj.活泼的，欢闹的；n.活泼，闹着玩；adv.活泼地，闹着玩地 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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45
flirting
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| v.调情，打情骂俏( flirt的现在分词 ) | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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48
bleating
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| v.（羊，小牛）叫( bleat的现在分词 )；哭诉；发出羊叫似的声音；轻声诉说 | |
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49
sundered
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| v.隔开，分开( sunder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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51
plaintively
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| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
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52
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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54
drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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56
bleated
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| v.（羊，小牛）叫( bleat的过去式和过去分词 )；哭诉；发出羊叫似的声音；轻声诉说 | |
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57
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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unreasonably
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| adv. 不合理地 | |
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watchfulness
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| 警惕，留心； 警觉（性） | |
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insolently
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| adv.自豪地，自傲地 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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64
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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consign
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| vt.寄售（货品），托运，交托，委托 | |
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69
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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70
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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71
sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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72
belligerently
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73
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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74
intrusive
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| adj.打搅的；侵扰的 | |
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75
waft
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| v.飘浮，飘荡；n.一股；一阵微风；飘荡 | |
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76
imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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77
musket
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| n.滑膛枪 | |
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78
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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79
martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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80
moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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81
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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82
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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83
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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84
prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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85
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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86
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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88
lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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89
clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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90
lichened
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| adj.长满地衣的，长青苔的 | |
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91
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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92
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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93
bellies
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| n.肚子( belly的名词复数 )；腹部；（物体的）圆形或凸起部份；腹部…形的 | |
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94
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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96
boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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97
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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