On the brow of the high ground close to Fort Augustus there sat a solitary1 man wrapped to his nose in a great Highland2 plaid. Night was falling and a thin drizzle3 of rain coming out of the west. The black outline of hills closed about the Fort as though to overwhelm it. No sound there was but the weary dripping of rain and the noise of running water over stones.
The figure on the mist-ridden hill-side never moved, but remained as lifeless as the crag behind him—part as it were of the tragic4 twilight5.
Down in the Fort lights flickered6 here and there, and a horseman plunged7 out of the obscure light and entered the gates.
The man upon the hill never raised his head but watched him for all that, the rain pouring from his bonnet8 to his plaid and running in little streams upon the heather.
The Fort was closed for the night.
The swift darkness of a Highland night smoothed out the ragged12 line of mountain, obliterating13 with its travelling shadows the outlines of the desolate14 glen, the clumps15 of trees about the low-lying country and in a flash the man upon the hill. He had become in a breath of time inseparably of the night itself.
Long after a clear whistle sounded from the pathway below. It was followed by a softer longer whistle.
With a sigh the man upon the hill gained his feet, being very stiff and cold with waiting, and passing over the sodden16 heather stood looking about him into the mist. Presently two figures loomed17 into sight.
The first of them, wrapped like the man himself in the folds of a heavy plaid, addressed him in a familiar voice.
It was Miss Macpherson.
"Come, Castleleathers," she said, "here is the man Macpherson, he is letting a rope over the wall, and he has arranged all. The Duke expects a visitor from the west this very night or maybe to-morrow and he will be alone. Things are no so strict as they were, and there is a rumour18 that he goes south soon. He thinks the Highlands are crushed...."
"The German loon," snapped Castleleathers with much contempt, "he cannot tell the difference between a Hessian and a Macdonald."
"Come," said Miss Macpherson, "and say ye do not think hardly of me if anything goes wrong."
"Tuts!" he said. "I'm no easy to move, but I like a ploy20 at a time. I feel younger to-night than I've felt this ten years. He's only a wee bit German after all."
Without another word they reached the Fort, and Macpherson, who seemed a capable man though silent as a dyke21, passed through the gateway22 and disappeared.
They skirted the outer rampart noiselessly and taking up their stand some hundred yards beyond the entrance gates, awaited the rope.
A few minutes later and down it came, and steadying Miss Macpherson for fear she grew giddy and fell, they began to mount together, and reached the top. There all was very dark and quiet, and the mist obscured everything outside the reach of a man's arm.
The garrison23 had long since grown careless now that the Highland forces had been utterly24 dispersed25 and crushed. Even the Duke was growing lukewarm in persecution26 and anxious to bid farewell to the land of snow and mist and hear what London had to say to him for his brave doings. At that very moment he sat toasting his toes before a grand peat fire with a log or two to give it flame, a glass of mulled wine at his elbow.
The room in which he sat was very small and compact, the shutters27 drawn28, and the seat in which he dozed29 one he had procured30 from the wreckage31 of a chief's house—a massive cushioned chair—with a back so high that it took a big man to see who entered the room.
He had dined as well as Highland rations32 would permit, and, like all Germans, he loved his food. He also relished33 the hour following his dinner. He had a kind of reverence34 for that sacred time.
To lounge before the fire on that dreary35 night of cold rain and mist, a night fit only for Highland cattle and suchlike, had its compensations. The last few months had brought their burden of anxiety and fatigue36. The eve of Culloden had been enough to try any man's nerve. Had he lost—had he been taken or killed—there is little question that the English Crown would have changed hands. Perhaps he had been over hard on the barbarous people who had rebelled, but he was frightened. Looking back on it now, he saw that he had lost his head for a time. And now the country was subdued37. He could return and listen to the things that London was waiting to say. There would be flags and banquets and honours. England was at his feet. Labour accomplished38 successfully has, indeed, its consolations39.
He stirred the fire and listened to the crackle of the wood. It was a fine, brisk, homely40 noise on such a wretched night of driving rain and sleet41. It was good to feel the rare glow of it on one's feet and knees. He wondered why it seemed so much better on a night of storm. He hunted in his mind for a reason. Suddenly he chuckled42. He remembered the Young Pretender, sheltering for all he knew under a ledge43 of dripping rock, or in a byre for cattle. Bad weather cut two ways. It had its comforts for the victor—it lashed44 the fugitive45 most piteously.
He laughed outright46 at the notion. Where was he now, that silly young man? Yet not so young—his own age in solemn truth. Then all the more credit to himself. Where was he now, but on some open moor47 like a curlew in the night or a stag watching the way he had run.
His eyes shut and suddenly a snore rang through the firelit room.
At the same moment a tall and heavily plaided figure passed noiselessly across the space that divided the door from the table and stood there for a moment as though undecided in his mind what course to take. In the doorway48 there hung a heavy curtain. Behind this there was another form. One could see that by the curve of it inside the room.
On the table there lay a paper—a despatch49 apparently50, and this the man behind the chair looked at idly with his thoughts upon the silent figure sunk in slumber51.
But as he read he frowned, and then, very softly he gathered up the paper and returned to the doorway where his companion appeared, and together they passed out of sight.
In an adjoining room they paused, and together bent52 over the dispatch. It was dated two days since, from Loch Carron, and signed by Captain Strange. It stated that Neil Mackenzie had encountered Muckle John and Rob Fraser in the inn of Loch Carron, and in an attempt to capture them had suffered both in body and reputation, and that unless he was permitted to take vengeance53 upon them he and his following would cease to interest themselves in the business of the Government further. That Neil Mackenzie, himself, was even now journeying to Fort Augustus to explain the matter, and that he advised that it might reflect less on the Government if the affair was left in Highland hands. The remainder of the dispatch dealt with the state of the district, the capture of Lord Lovat, and concluded with the words: "There are reasons why it would be expedient54 if neither Muckle John or Rob Fraser stood their trial, but were reduced to silence by some other course, in fact if your Highness could see your way to disarming55 their suspicions and the suspicions of the Jacobites in some way, it would leave the road clear for Mackenzie."
"This Mackenzie," whispered Miss Macpherson, "is like to be the end of Rob I'm thinking. It is evident that he has suffered at the hands of Muckle John...."
"And means mischief," added Castleleathers.
In the room down the passage the snores of the Duke rolled peacefully on.
Miss Macpherson paused, turning the matter over in her practical mind.
"Have you ever seen this Neil Mackenzie?" she asked at last.
He shook his head.
"I never had dealings with Mackenzies," he replied.
"Then why not take his place, my man? The Duke canna tell one tartan from another. Hear what he has to say. Tell him your people are mortally offended with Muckle John."
"But what of Mackenzie himself?"
Her face hardened.
"Mackenzie must be sent upon his business," she said, "and what is more, he must never reach the Fort."
"One ploy at a time," said Castleleathers, "and here goes for the first."
With that he tip-toed back and replaced the dispatch, then with a heavy tread walked down the passage, and knocked upon the door.
"Who is there?" cried the Duke starting from sleep.
"Neil Mackenzie, your Highness."
Cumberland pushed the chair about.
In the room he saw a great man standing56 muffled to his face in a plaid. He had the bearing of a robber chief, but one never knew with these terrible Highlanders.
"I 'ave 'eard ov you," said the Duke civilly enough, despite his harsh Teutonic voice, "two hours since I received a despatch from Captain Strange referring to some trouble between you and Muckle John."
"My people," said Castleleathers, turning his face to the shadow, "have received an affront57 which can only be wiped out in one way. We are prepared to serve the Government with loyalty58 and we look to your Highness to remember it."
The Duke took up the paper and read it through very carefully.
"Zey are both dangerous Jacobites," he said, "and there are reasons vy zis Muckle John should not stand 'is trial in London. He knows too much, Mr. Mackenzie. There are things we vish to keep to ourselves for a little—you understand?"
Castleleathers bowed his head.
"There is the boy too," he said.
"Now that Lovat is taken, I care no dings for 'im. But he vill serve to put you on the trail of the other."
"Unless what?"
"Your Highness could appear to have pity on his youth and issue a pardon. It would be an act of clemency61 and what followed would only point to clan11 jealousy62."
Cumberland frowned. He was a straight-forward man with an aversion for subterfuge63.
"I do nod like your Highland vays," he said grumpily, "why not hang the boy in the ordinary vay? Muckle John is a different matter. I see no reason for this pardon."
Castleleathers played his last card.
"There are wheels within wheels," said he, "we know that this Muckle John has pledged his word to preserve the life of the boy. When we have the boy in our hands, for he will come home on receiving his pardon, we will have the bait for the catching64 of Muckle John. Two rebels will have gone, your Highness, and none the wiser. There are things this Muckle John could say that would sound badly in a trial...."
"I know, I know," said Cumberland, ill at ease, "but surely there are odder vays...."
Castleleathers shrugged his shoulders.
"It is all we have asked," he said, "and we are not a small clan."
"At anodder time," he said, "I would see you var enough, but I am sick to death of all this futile66 business and the wrangles67 of one clan with another. Have it as you will."
He strode to the table, took a piece of paper out of a drawer and began to write upon it.
"Here," he said crossly, "is ze pardon for Rob Fraser, and now let me hear no more of Muckle John."
"Your Highness has acted wisely," said Castleleathers smoothly68, and a minute later took his leave.
Backwards69 and forwards tramped the Duke of Cumberland, his thoughts deep again upon his departure for London and the brave times ahead. Forgotten was all the hardship of the last few months—the poor fare and dreary weather. He was like a man saying a glad farewell to a desolate country of savages70.
"It is but half done," whispered Castleleathers to Miss Macpherson when they stood once more upon the heather, "he has forgotten Rob and is like a man eaten up with longing71 for the south. I've seen such before. There is still Mackenzie. He may be upon us any minute, and what is it to be, the sword or a dunt upon the head."
"A Mackenzie," remarked Miss Macpherson, like to overflow72 with joy at the pardon, "is neither here nor there, but what of the swarm73? You may kill one bee, but dinna forget the hive."
"True," said Castleleathers, "which way will he come?"
"He will come by this very road—I doubt but we'll meet him any minute."
It was long before they heard the sound of a horse thudding up the glen, and very soon the squelch74 of its feet in the sodden ground. Instantly they crouched75 by the way, and then as the horseman drew level with them they raised their heads and took him in at a glance. He was a very heavily built man, muffled up in a riding cloak and with a bonnet upon his head.
"A Mackenzie if ever there was one," whispered Castleleathers, and starting up came upon him from the slope of the hill and hauled him off his beast so that he uttered one startled cry and sprawled76 in the heather with his legs in the air. In the same grim silence, Castleleathers was upon his chest and with a dirk at his throat.
"Is it to be the quick passage," he whispered in Gaelic, "or do you swear to do what is said?"
There was a long silence.
Mackenzie upon his back and helpless as a child was trying to see the tartan of the man above him.
"Neil Mackenzie," said Castleleathers, "unless you forget what brought you here this night, you are not like to remember it at all."
"I," replied Castleleathers, "am Muckle John."
"Muckle John?" He doubted it, but it was black darkness where they lay amongst the heather.
"What of the affair Loch Carron way?" continued Castleleathers. "You came poorly enough out of that. But I have a mind to end it this time. I am not a patient man and no one has dealings against me who does not at last regret it."
"I will go back," said Mackenzie in a heavy tone like a man beaten once and for all.
"You must tell your people that you are satisfied with the answer the Duke has given you."
"I will—I swear it!"
Castleleathers drew back and leaped to his feet.
"Away then!" he said, "the road to the west lies clear. But if you so much as dream of treachery—-no power can save you."
In silence Mackenzie caught his horse and mounting it took the road for home, all the courage gone out of him. All that night he rode, and the next day, and when he reached Loch Carron he gave no word at all, but bore the aspect of a man who fears to look over his shoulder in the gloaming.
As for Castleleathers and Miss Macpherson, being both people over middle life, they made their way stiffly homewards to an inn near Fort Augustus.
It was over a basin of hot brose that he turned to her.
"The young ones are no like the old ones," sighed Miss Macpherson.
"None so old," rejoined Castleleathers, smiling at her suddenly.
Miss Macpherson busied herself with her plate.
"It's after Rob we must go the morn," she said.
"It has been a great night," he remarked, nodding before the fire, "that Mackenzie was sair taken aback."
"The Duke is no sae difficult to manage as folk say," hazarded Miss Macpherson.
"You're all the same," murmured Miss Macpherson slyly.
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1
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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drizzle
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| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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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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clan
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| n.氏族，部落，宗族，家族，宗派 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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13
obliterating
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| v.除去( obliterate的现在分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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14
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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15
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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16
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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17
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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18
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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crunch
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| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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ploy
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| n.花招，手段 | |
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dyke
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| n.堤，水坝，排水沟 | |
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22
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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23
garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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24
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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persecution
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| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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27
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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28
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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29
dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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31
wreckage
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| n.（失事飞机等的）残骸，破坏，毁坏 | |
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32
rations
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| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
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33
relished
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| v.欣赏( relish的过去式和过去分词 )；从…获得乐趣；渴望 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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35
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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36
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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37
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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38
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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39
consolations
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| n.安慰，慰问( consolation的名词复数 )；起安慰作用的人（或事物） | |
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40
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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41
sleet
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| n.雨雪；v.下雨雪，下冰雹 | |
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42
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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44
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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45
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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46
outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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47
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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48
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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49
despatch
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| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
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50
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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51
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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52
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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53
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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54
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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55
disarming
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| adj.消除敌意的，使人消气的v.裁军( disarm的现在分词 )；使息怒 | |
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56
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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57
affront
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| n./v.侮辱，触怒 | |
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58
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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59
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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60
elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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61
clemency
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| n.温和，仁慈，宽厚 | |
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62
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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63
subterfuge
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| n.诡计；藉口 | |
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64
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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65
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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67
wrangles
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| n.（尤指长时间的）激烈争吵，口角，吵嘴( wrangle的名词复数 )v.争吵，争论，口角( wrangle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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68
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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69
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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70
savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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71
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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72
overflow
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| v.(使)外溢，(使)溢出；溢出，流出，漫出 | |
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73
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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74
squelch
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| v.压制，镇压；发吧唧声 | |
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75
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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77
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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78
ploys
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| n.策略，手法( ploy的名词复数 ) | |
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79
smacks
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| 掌掴（声）( smack的名词复数 )； 海洛因； （打的）一拳； 打巴掌 | |
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80
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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