Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing Times

  *CHAPTER VII*

  *THE FLUTE-PLAYER*

  The moon was breaking through a wreath of clouds when I came to the endof the loch again, and its light guided me to my hiding-place. As I hadlain asleep all day, I was in no need of rest, so I set out along thehill-side to stretch my limbs and explore my surroundings further. Allwas silent, and the face of the loch shone in the moonlight like asilver shield.

  The unexpected happenings of the last hour filled my mind. I had beentold once and again that the Covenanters were a dour, stubborn pack ofkill-joys, with no interests outside the narrow confines of theirbigotry. A flute-playing Covenanter--and, withal, a master such as thisman had shown himself to be--was something I found it hard, tounderstand. And more than once since that fatal day at Wigtown I hadthought of winsome Margaret Wilson, whose brave blue eyes were of a kindto kindle love in a man's heart. She, the sweet maid, and this soulfulmusician of the hills, made me think that after all the Covenanters mustbe human beings with feelings and aspirations, loves and hopes likeother men, and were not merely lawless fanatics to be shot like wildcats or drowned like sheep-worrying dogs.

  I wondered whether this Covenanter had been hiding on the other side ofthe loch long before I came; or whether he had been driven by thetroopers from some other lair a few hours before and was but a passer-byin the night. No man, in flight, resting for a time would have been sounwary as this flute-player. He must have been there long enough toknow that his solitude was unlikely to be disturbed by any suddenarrival of troopers, and, if so, he must have some means of supplyinghimself with food. An idea seized me. If he, like myself, was afugitive in hiding I might be able to eke out my diminishing store byprocuring from him some of the food which I imagined must be brought tohim by friends. But then, how could I expect that one, whose enemieswore the same coat as I did, would grant me this favour. Even if I toldhim my story, would he believe me?

  However, I resolved that, when the morning broke, I would try to makefriends with this man: but--my uniform? From his hiding-place he woulddoubtless observe my approach, and either conceal himself the closer orescape me by flight. Turning the matter over in my mind, I continued mywalk along the loch-side, and suddenly, because I was not paying fullheed to the manner of my going, my feet sank under me and I was suckedinto a bog. A "bottomless" bog so common in these Scottish moors wouldquickly have solved my difficulties. With no small effort I raised myhead above the ooze and slime, withdrew my right arm from the soddenmorass, out of which it came with a hideous squelch, and felt all roundfor some firm tussock of grass or rushes. Luckily finding one, I pulledupon it cautiously, and it held--then more firmly, and still it held.Clinging to it I withdrew my left arm from the morass, and, laying holdon another tussock, after a prolonged and exhausting effort I succeededin drawing myself up till I was able to rest my arms on a clump ofrushes that stood in the heart of the bog. Resting for a little torecover myself, I at last drew myself completely out; and as I stoodwith my feet planted firmly in the heart of the rushes, I saw a clump ofgrass, and stepped upon it, and from it, with a quick leap, to the otherside. As I stood wet and mud-drenched, it suddenly flashed upon me thatthis untoward event might turn to my advantage. The brown ooze of thebog would effectually hide the scarlet of my coat. Even if the fugitiveon the other side of the loch should see my approach, he would notrecognise in this mud-stained wanderer an erstwhile spick-and-spantrooper of Lag's Horse.

  I made my way carefully to the water edge and washed the bitter oozefrom my face and hands. Then I took off my tunic--having firstcarefully taken from its pockets the remains of my store of food, nowall sodden--and laid it on a boulder to dry. Then I paced up and downbriskly, till the exercise brought a grateful warmth to my limbs.

  I sat down and looked wonderingly over the broad surface of the loch. Awind had sprung up, warm and not unkindly, which caught the surface ofthe water and drove little plashing waves against the gravel edge. As Ilistened to their chatter I suddenly heard footsteps close at hand.Throwing myself flat on the ground I waited. Who was it? TheCovenanter ought to be at the other side of the loch. Was there anotherrefugee as well as myself on this side, or was it a pursuer who had atlast found me, and had I escaped death in the bog only to face it a fewdays hence against a wall in Wigtown with a firing party before me?