Yet not all barren or desolate1, for here and there among the grey granite2 peeped forth3 the bloom of the young heather, making a livelier purple amid the burnt brown of the short grass, which in its turn was diversified4 by the vivid emerald green circling the “quacking-quaas” or bottomless moss5-holes of the bogs6 beneath.
Now this is what I saw, lying on my face, with no more than my chin set over the edge—two men in tattered7, peat-stained clothing running for their lives towards the edge of the little plateau farthest from me.
Between me and them twenty or thirty dragoons were urging their horses forward in pursuit, weaving this way and that among the{16} soft lairy8 places, and as many more whose steeds had stuck fast in the moss were coursing the fugitives9 on foot as though the poor men had been beasts of the field.
Every now and then one of the pursuers would stop, set his musket11 to his shoulder and blaze away with a loud report and a drift of white smoke, shouting joyously12 as at a rare jest whether he hit or missed. And I thought that the poor lads would make good their escape with such sorry marksmen. But even whilst I was putting up a prayer for them as I lay panting upon the manifest edge, a chance shot struck the smaller and more slender of the wanderers. He stumbled, poor wretch13, and fell forward upon his face. Then, mastering himself, and recognising his grievous case and how much of mercy he had to look for if his enemies came up with him, his strong spirit for an instant conquered his bodily hurt.
He rose immediately, set his hands one over the other upon his side, doubtless to stay the welling gap the bullet had riven there, and ran yet more determinedly14 after his companion. But close to the further verge15 his power went from him. His companion halted and would have come back to aid him, or more likely to{17} die with him. But the wounded man threw out his hand in vehement16 protest.
“Run, Sandy,” he cried, so loudly and eagerly that I could easily hear him through all the shouting and pother. “It will do no good. I am sped. Save yourself—God have mercy—tell Margaret——!”
But what he would have told Margaret I know not, for even then he spread out his arms and fell forward on his face in the spongy moss.
At this his companion turned sharply and ran on by himself, finally disappearing among the granite boulders17 amid a brisk crackling of the soldiers’ pieces.
But their marksmanship was poor, for though they were near to him, what with the breathless race and the unevenness18 of the ground, not a shot took effect. Nor showed he any sign of scathe19 when last I saw him, leaping nimbly from clump20 to clump of bent21, where the green slimy moss wet with the peat-brew keeps all soft as a quicksand, so that neither hoof22 of a charger nor heavy military boot dare venture upon it, though the bare accustomed foot of one bred to the hills may carry him across easily enough. So the fugitive10, a tall, burly man, cumbered with little besides a doublet and short hose, disappeared{18} out of my sight, and the plain was bare save for the disappointed dragoons in their red coats and the poor man left fallen on his face in the morass23.
I could never see him move hand or foot after he fell; and, indeed, it was not long that he had the chance. For even as I continued to gaze fascinated at the scene of blood which so suddenly had broken in upon the pastoral peace of our Kells hills, I saw a tall, dark soldier, one evidently of some authority among them, stride up to the fallen man. He strove to turn him over with his foot, but the moss clung, and he could not. So without a moment’s hesitation24 he took a musket from the nearest dragoon, glanced coolly at the priming of the touch, set the butt25 to his shoulder, and with the muzzle26 within a foot shot the full charge into the back of the prostrate27 man.
At this I could command myself no longer. The pursuit and the shooting at the fugitives, even the killing28 when at least they had a chance for their lives, seemed nothing to this stony-hearted butchery. I gat me up on my feet, and in a boyish frenzy29 shouted curses upon the murderer.
“God shall send thee to hell for this, wicked{19} man, black murderer that thou art!” I cried, shaking my clenched30 hand, like the angry impotent child I was.
The soldiers who were searching here and there, as it were, for more victims among the coverts31 turned their heads my way and gazed, hearing the voice but seeing no man. Others who stood upon the verge, taking shots as fast as they could load at the man who had escaped, also turned. I yelled at them that they were to show themselves brave soldiers, and shoot me also. The tall, dark buirdly man in the red coat who had fired into the wounded man cried to them “to take a shot at the damned young Whig.” But I think the men were all too much surprised at my bold words to do it, for none moved, so that the speaker was obliged to snatch a pistol from his own belt, and let fly at me himself.
The whistle of the pistol ball as it sped harmlessly by waked me as from a dream. A quick horror took me by the throat. I seemed to see myself laid face down on the turf and the murderer of the poor wanderer pouring shot after shot into my back. I felt my knees tremble, and it seemed (as it often does in a nightmare) that if he pursued I should be unable to move.{20} But even as I saw the man in red reach for his other pistol the power came back to my limbs.
I turned and ran without knowing it, for the next thing I remember was the scuff32 of the wind about my ears as I sped recklessly down the steepest slope, with no feeling that my feet were touching33 the ground at all. I saw Ashie and Gray scouring34 far before me, with their tails clapped between their legs, for I suppose that their master’s fear had communicated itself to them. Yet all the time I knew well that a single false step, a stumble upon a twisted root of burnt heather, a treacherous35 clump of grass amid the green slime of the morass, and the fate of the fallen martyr36 would be mine.
But ere I passed quite out of range I heard the rattle37 of a dropping fusillade from the edge of the hill above me, as a number of the soldiers let off their pieces at me, firing, I think, half in sport and half from a feeling of chagrin38 that they had let a more important victim escape them. I heard the whisk-whisk of the balls as they flew wide, and one whizzed past my ear and buried itself with a vicious spit in the moss a yard or two before me as I ran—but all harmless, and soon I was out of range. For I think it was more in cruel jest and with raffish39 laughter{21} than with any intent to harm me that the soldiers fired.
Nevertheless, my boy’s heart was full of wild fear. I had seen murder done. The wholesome40 green earth was spotted41 black with crime. Red motes42 danced in the sunshine. The sun himself in the wide blue heavens seemed turned to blood.
Then, all suddenly, I thought of my mother, and my heart stood still. It would soon be the hour at which it was her custom to take out victual to the little craggy linn where my father was in hiding. So with a new access of terror I turned towards our house of Ardarroch, and ran to warn her of what I had seen upon the Bennan top.
I felt as I sped along that life could never be the same to me again. From a heedless boy I had grown into a man in one unutterable hour. I had, of course, heard much of killings43, and even as a child the relation of the cruelties of the Highland44 Host had impressed me so that the red glinting of a soldier’s coat would send me into the deepest thickets45 of Ardarroch wood. But it was the musket shot poured into the back of the poor helpless lad on the Bennan that made a lifelong Covenanter of Quintin MacClellan.{22}
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1
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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2
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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4
diversified
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| adj.多样化的，多种经营的v.使多样化，多样化( diversify的过去式和过去分词 )；进入新的商业领域 | |
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5
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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6
bogs
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| n.沼泽，泥塘( bog的名词复数 )；厕所v.（使）陷入泥沼， （使）陷入困境( bog的第三人称单数 )；妨碍，阻碍 | |
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7
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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8
lairy
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| adj.艳俗的，华丽而俗气的 | |
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9
fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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10
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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11
musket
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| n.滑膛枪 | |
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12
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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13
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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14
determinedly
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| adv.决意地；坚决地，坚定地 | |
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15
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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16
vehement
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| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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17
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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18
unevenness
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| n. 不平坦，不平衡，不匀性 | |
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19
scathe
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| v.损伤；n.伤害 | |
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20
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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21
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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22
hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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23
morass
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| n.沼泽，困境 | |
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24
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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25
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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26
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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27
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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28
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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29
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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30
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
coverts
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| n.隐蔽的，不公开的，秘密的( covert的名词复数 )；复羽 | |
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32
scuff
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| v. 拖着脚走；磨损 | |
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33
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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34
scouring
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| 擦[洗]净，冲刷，洗涤 | |
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35
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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36
martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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37
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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38
chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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39
raffish
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| adj.名誉不好的，无赖的，卑鄙的，艳俗的 | |
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40
wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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41
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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42
motes
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| n.尘埃( mote的名词复数 )；斑点 | |
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43
killings
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| 谋杀( killing的名词复数 )； 突然发大财，暴发 | |
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44
highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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45
thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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