Never had the man such a trying time as during the year now before him. It was the year when so many scientific magnates sat up half the night in their shirts, spying at him through telescopes. But every effort to discover why he was in such a fidget failed, because the spy-glasses were never levelled at the Thrums den. Through the whole of the incidents now to tell, you may conceive the man (on whom sympathy would be wasted) dagoning horribly, because he was always carried past the den before he could make head or tail of the change that had come over it.
The spot chosen by the ill-fated Stuart and his gallant8 remnant for their last desperate enterprise was eminently9 fitted for their purpose. Being round the corner from Thrums, it was commanded by no fortified10 place save the farm of Nether11 Drumgley, and on a recent goustie night nearly all the trees had been blown down, making a hundred hiding-places for bold climbers, and transforming the Den into a scene of wild and mournful grandeur12. In no bay more suitable than the flooded field called the Silent Pool could the hunted prince have cast anchor, for the Pool is not only sheltered from observation, but so little troubled by gales13 that it had only one drawback: at some seasons of the year it was not there. This, however, did not vex14 Stroke, as it is cannier15 to call him, for he burned his boats on the night he landed (and a dagont, tedious job it was too), and pointed16 out to his followers17 that the drouth which kept him in must also keep the enemy out. Part of the way to the lair18 they usually traversed in the burn, because water leaves no trace, and though they carried turnip19 lanterns and were armed to the teeth, this was often a perilous20 journey owing to the lovers close at hand on the pink path, from which the trees had been cleared, for lads and lasses must walk whate'er betide. Ronny-On's Jean and Peter Scrymgeour, little Lisbeth Doak and long Sam'l from Pyotdykes were pairing that year, and never knew how near they were to being dirked by Corp of Corp, who, lurking21 in the burn till there were no tibbits in his toes, muttered fiercely, "Cheep one single cheep, and it will be thy hinmost, methinks!" under the impression that Methinks was a Jacobite oath.
For this voluntary service, Stroke clapped Corp of Corp on the shoulder with a naked sword, and said, "Rise, Sir Joseph!" which made Corp more confused than ever, for he was already Corp of Corp, Him of Muckle Kenny, Red McNeil, Andrew Ferrara, and the Master of Inverquharity (Stroke's names), as well as Stab-in-the-Dark, Grind-them-to-Mullins, and Warty23 Joe (his own), and which he was at any particular moment he never knew, till Stroke told him, and even then he forgot and had to be put in irons.
The other frequenters of the lair on Saturday nights (when alone the rebellion was active) were the proud Lady Grizel and Widow Elspeth. It had been thought best to make Elspeth a widow, because she was so religious.
The lair was on the right bank of the burn, near the waterfall, and you climbed to it by ropes, unless you preferred an easier way. It is now a dripping hollow, down which water dribbles24 from beneath a sluice25, but at that time it was hidden on all sides by trees and the huge clods of sward they had torn from the earth as they fell. Two of these clods were the only walls of the lair, which had at times a ceiling not unlike Aaron Latta's bed coverlets, and the chief furniture was two barrels, marked "Usquebach" and "Powder." When the darkness of Stroke's fortunes sat like a pall26 upon his brow, as happened sometimes, he sought to drive it away by playing cards on one of these barrels with Sir Joseph, but the approach of the Widow made him pocket them quickly with a warning sign to his trusty knight27, who did not understand, and asked what had become of them, whereupon Elspeth cried, in horror:
"Cards! Oh, Tommy, you promised—"
But Stroke rode her down with, "Cards! Wha has been playing cards? You, Muckle Kenny, and you, Sir Joseph, after I forbade it! Hie, there, Inverquharity, all of you, seize those men."
Then Corp blinked, came to his senses and marched himself off to the prison on the lonely promontory28 called the Queen's Bower29, saying ferociously30, "Jouk, Sir Joseph, and I'll blaw you into posterity31."
It is sable32 night when Stroke and Sir Joseph reach a point in the Den whence the glimmering33 lights of the town are distinctly visible. Neither speaks. Presently the distant eight-o'clock bell rings, and then Sir Joseph looks anxiously at his warts34, for this is the signal to begin, and as usual he has forgotten the words.
"Go on," says someone in a whisper. It cannot be Stroke, for his head is brooding on his breast. This mysterious voice haunted all the doings in the Den, and had better be confined in brackets.
("Go on.")
"Methinks," says Sir Joseph, "methinks the borers—"
("Burghers.")
"Ay," replied Stroke, "'tis so, would that they ceased from them forever!"
"Methinks the time is at hand."
"Ha!" exclaims Stroke, looking at his lieutenant36 curiously37, "what makest thou say so? For three weeks these fortifications have defied my cannon38, there is scarce a breach39 yet in the walls of yonder town."
"It may be so, my good Sir Joseph, it may be so, and yet, even when I am most hopeful of success, my schemes go a gley."
"Methinks thy dark—"
("Dinna say Methinks so often.")
("Tommy, I maun. If I dinna get that to start me off, I go through other.")
("Go on.")
"Methinks thy dark spirit lies on thee to-night."
"Ay, 'tis too true. But canst thou blame me if I grow sad? The town still in the enemy's hands, and so much brave blood already spilt in vain. Knowest thou that the brave Kinnordy fell last night? My noble Kinnordy!"
Here Stroke covers his face with his hands, weeping silently, and—and there is an awkward pause.
("Go on—'Still have me.'")
("So it is.") "Weep not, my royal scone—"
"Weep not, my royal scion, havest thou not still me?"
"Well said, Sir Joseph," cries Stroke, dashing the sign of weakness from his face. "I still have many brave fellows, and with their help I shall be master of this proud town."
"And then ghost we to fair Edinburgh?"
"Ay, 'tis so, but, Sir Joseph, thinkest thou these burghers love the Stuart not?"
"'Nay42, methinks they are true to thee, but their starch43 commander—(give me my time, this is a lang ane,) but their arch commander is thy bitterest foe44. Vile45 spoon that he is! (It's no spoon, it's spawn46.)"
"Thou meanest the craven Cathro?"
"Methinks ay. (I like thae short anes.)"
"'Tis well!" says Stroke, sternly. "That man hath ever slipped between me and my right. His time will come."
"He floppeth thee—he flouteth thee from the battlements."
"Ha, 'tis well!"
("You've said that already.")
("I say it twice.")
("That's what aye puts me wrang.) Ghost thou to meet the proud Lady Grizel to-night?"
"Ay."
"Ghost thou alone?"
"Ay."
("What easy anes you have!) I fear it is not chancey for thee to go."
"I must dree my dreed."
"These women is kittle cattle."
"The Stuart hath ever a soft side for them. Ah, my trusty foster-brother, knowest thou not what it is to love?"
"(No, she winna, the limmer.) Sir Joseph, I go to her."
"I have given my word."
"Thy word is a band."
"Adieu, my friend."
"Methinks thou ghost to thy damn. (Did we no promise Elspeth there should be no swearing?)"
The raft Vick Lan Vohr is dragged to the shore, and Stroke steps on board, a proud solitary50 figure. "Farewell!" he cries hoarsely51, as he seizes the oar7.
"Farewell, my leech," answers Corp, and then helps him to disembark. Their hands chance to meet, and Stroke's is so hot that Corp quails52.
"Tommy," he says, with a shudder53, "do you—you dinna think it's a' true, do you?" But the ill-fated prince only gives him a warning look and plunges54 into the mazes55 of the forest. For a long time silence reigns56 over the Den. Lights glint fitfully, a human voice imitates the plaintive57 cry of the peewit, cautious whistling follows, comes next the clash of arms, and the scream of one in the death-throes, and again silence falls. Stroke emerges near the Reekie Broth47 Pot, wiping his sword and muttering, "Faugh! it drippeth!" At the same moment the air is filled with music of more than mortal—well, the air is filled with music. It seems to come from but a few yards away, and pressing his hand to his throbbing58 brow the Chevalier presses forward till, pushing aside the branches of a fallen fir, he comes suddenly upon a scene of such romantic beauty that he stands rooted to the ground. Before him, softly lit by a half-moon (the man in it perspiring59 with curiosity), is a miniature dell, behind which rise threatening rocks, overgrown here and there by grass, heath, and bracken, while in the centre of the dell is a bubbling spring called the Cuttle Well, whose water, as it overflows60 a natural basin, soaks into the surrounding ground and so finds a way into the picturesque61 stream below. But it is not the loveliness of the spot which fascinates the prince; rather is it the exquisite62 creature who sits by the bubbling spring, a reed from a hand-loom in her hands, from which she strikes mournful sounds, the while she raises her voice in song. A pink scarf and a blue ribbon are crossed upon her breast, her dark tresses kiss her lovely neck, and as she sits on the only dry stone, her face raised as if in wrapt communion with the heavens, and her feet tucked beneath her to avoid the mud, she seems not a human being, but the very spirit of the place and hour. The royal wanderer remains63 spellbound, while she strikes her lyre and sings (with but one trivial alteration) the song of MacMurrough:—
Awake on your hills, on your islands awake, Brave sons of the mountains, the frith and the lake! 'Tis the bugle—but not for the chase is the call; 'Tis the pibroch's shrill64 summons—but not to the hall.
'Tis the summons of heroes for conquest or death, When the banners are blazing on mountain and heath; They call to the dirk, the claymore and the targe, To the march and the muster65, the line and the charge.
Be the brand of each Chieftain like Stroke's in his ire! May the blood through his veins66 flow like currents of fire! Burst the base foreign yoke67 as your sires did of yore, Or die like your sires, and endure it no more.
As the fair singer concluded, Stroke, who had been deeply moved, heaved a great sigh, and immediately, as if in echo of it, came a sigh from the opposite side of the dell. In a second of time three people had learned that a certain lady had two lovers. She starts to her feet, still carefully avoiding the puddles68, but it is not she who speaks.
("Did you hear me?")
("Ay.")
("You're ready?")
("Ca' awa'.")
Stroke dashes to the girl's side, just in time to pluck her from the arms of a masked man. The villain69 raises his mask and reveals the face of—it looks like Corp, but the disguise is thrown away on Stroke.
"Back, Stroke, and let me pass."
"Nay, we fight for the wench."
"So be it. The prideful onion is his who wins her."
"Have at thee, caitiff!"
A terrible conflict ensues. Cathro draws first blood. 'Tis but a scratch. Ha! well thrust, Stroke. In vain Cathro girns his teeth. Inch by inch he is driven back, he slips, he recovers, he pants, he is apparently71 about to fling himself down the steep bank and so find safety in flight, but he comes on again.
("What are you doing? You run now.")
("Off you go.")
Even as Stroke is about to press home, the cowardly foe flings himself down the steep bank and rolls out of sight. He will give no more trouble to-night; and the victor turns to the Lady Grizel, who had been repinning the silk scarf across her breast, while the issue of the combat was still in doubt.
("Now, then, Grizel, you kiss my hand.")
("I tell you I won't.")
("Well, then, go on your knees to me.")
("You needn't think it.")
"May I always be near to defend thee in time of danger, my pretty chick."
("Tommy, you promised not to call me by those silly names.")
("They slip out, I tell you. That was aye the way wi' the Stuarts.")
("Well, you must say 'Lady Grizel.') Good, my prince, how can I thank thee?"
"By being my wife. (Not a word of this to Elspeth.)"
"Nay, I summoned thee here to tell thee that can never be. The Grizels of Grizel are of ancient lineage, but they mate not with monarchs74. My sire, the nunnery gates will soon close on me forever."
"Then at least say thou lovest me."
"Alas, I love thee not."
("What haver is this? I telled you to say 'Charles, would that I loved thee less.'")
("And I told you I would not.")
("Well, then, where are we now?")
("We miss out all that about my wearing your portrait next my heart, and put in the rich apparel bit, the same as last week.")
("Oh! Then I go on?) Bethink thee, fair jade—"
("Lady.")
"Bethink thee, fair lady, Stuart is not so poor but that, if thou come with him to his lowly lair, he can deck thee with rich apparel and ribbons rare."
("Miss that common bit out. I canna thole it.")
("I like it.) If there are holes in the garments of thy loyal followers, I will come and mend them, and have a needle and thread in my pocket. (Tommy, there is another button off your shirt! Have you got the button?")
"(It's down my breeks.) So be it, proud girl, come!"
It was Grizel who made masks out of tin rags, picked up where tinkers had passed the night, and musical instruments out of broken reeds that smelled of caddis and Jacobite head-gear out of weaver's night-caps; and she kept the lair so clean and tidy as to raise a fear that intruders might mistake its character. Elspeth had to mind the pot, which Aaron Latta never missed, and Corp was supposed to light the fire by striking sparks from his knife, a trick which Tommy considered so easy that he refused to show how it was done. Many strange sauces were boiled in that pot, a sort of potato-turnip pudding often coming out even when not expected, but there was an occasional rabbit that had been bowled over by Corp's unerring hand, and once Tommy shot a—a haunch of venison, having first, with Corp's help, howked it out of Ronny-On's swine, then suspended head downward, and open like a book at the page of contents, steaming, dripping, a tub beneath, boys with bladders in the distance. When they had supped they gathered round the fire, Grizel knitting a shawl for they knew whom, but the name was never mentioned, and Tommy told the story of his life at the French court, and how he fought in the '45 and afterward76 hid in caves, and so did he shudder, as he described the cold of his bracken beds, and so glowed his face, for it was all real to him, that Grizel let the wool drop on her knee, and Corp whispered to Elspeth, "Dinna be fleid for him; I'se uphaud he found a wy." Those quiet evenings were not the least pleasant spent in the Den.
But sometimes they were interrupted by a fierce endeavor to carry the lair, when boys from Cathro's climbed to it up each other's backs, the rope, of course, having been pulled into safety at the first sound, and then that end of the Den rang with shouts, and deeds of valor77 on both sides were as common as pine needles, and once Tommy and Corp were only saved from captors who had them down, by Grizel rushing into the midst of things with two flaring78 torches, and another time bold Birkie, most daring of the storming party, was seized with two others and made to walk the plank79. The plank had been part of a gate, and was suspended over the bank of the Silent Pool, so that, as you approached the farther end, down you went. It was not a Jacobite method, but Tommy feared that rows of bodies, hanging from the trees still standing in the Den, might attract attention.
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1
hacking
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| n.非法访问计算机系统和数据库的活动 | |
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2
den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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3
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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4
reprobate
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| n.无赖汉；堕落的人 | |
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5
enrages
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| 使暴怒( enrage的第三人称单数 ) | |
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6
placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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7
oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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8
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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10
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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11
nether
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| adj.下部的，下面的；n.阴间；下层社会 | |
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12
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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13
gales
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| 龙猫 | |
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14
vex
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| vt.使烦恼，使苦恼 | |
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15
cannier
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| 精明的，狡猾的( canny的比较级 ) | |
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16
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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18
lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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19
turnip
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| n.萝卜，芜菁 | |
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20
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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21
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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22
ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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23
warty
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| adj.有疣的，似疣的；瘤状 | |
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24
dribbles
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| n.涓滴( dribble的名词复数 )；细滴；少量（液体）v.流口水( dribble的第三人称单数 )；（使液体）滴下或作细流；运球，带球 | |
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25
sluice
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| n.水闸 | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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27
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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28
promontory
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| n.海角；岬 | |
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bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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30
ferociously
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| 野蛮地，残忍地 | |
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31
posterity
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| n.后裔，子孙，后代 | |
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32
sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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33
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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34
warts
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| n.疣( wart的名词复数 )；肉赘；树瘤；缺点 | |
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labors
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| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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36
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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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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38
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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39
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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40
wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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41
scion
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| n.嫩芽，子孙 | |
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42
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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43
starch
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| n.淀粉；vt.给...上浆 | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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46
spawn
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| n.卵，产物，后代，结果；vt.产卵，种菌丝于，产生，造成；vi.产卵，大量生产 | |
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47
broth
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| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
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48
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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49
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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50
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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51
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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52
quails
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| 鹌鹑( quail的名词复数 )； 鹌鹑肉 | |
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53
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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54
plunges
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| n.跳进，投入vt.使投入，使插入，使陷入vi.投入，跳进，陷入v.颠簸( plunge的第三人称单数 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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55
mazes
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| 迷宫( maze的名词复数 )； 纷繁复杂的规则； 复杂难懂的细节； 迷宫图 | |
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56
reigns
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| n.君主的统治( reign的名词复数 )；君主统治时期；任期；当政期 | |
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57
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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58
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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59
perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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60
overflows
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| v.溢出，淹没( overflow的第三人称单数 )；充满；挤满了人；扩展出界，过度延伸 | |
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61
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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63
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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64
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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66
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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67
yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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68
puddles
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| n.水坑， （尤指道路上的）雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
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69
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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70
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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71
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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72
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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73
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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74
monarchs
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| 君主，帝王( monarch的名词复数 ) | |
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75
spurn
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| v.拒绝，摈弃；n.轻视的拒绝；踢开 | |
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76
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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77
valor
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| n.勇气，英勇 | |
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78
flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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