Mr. Fosdyke, who had now seated himself on a large stone near, struck his knee with some vehemence. “Ah’ll tell thee whoy! First, because t’ bitch here foond thee and took ti thee, and thou didna stick yon knife o’ thine intiv her—but Ah’d ’ev driven in thy skool if thou hadst . . . second, because thou’rt a sharp lad and a bold one, too; and last because Ah’ve seen and heerd tell o’ things yonder at Fort Augustus, wheer we went ti buy cattle, that Ah ’evn’t loiked at all. No, Ah didn’t loike what Ah heerd of goings on.—Aye, and foorthly, t’ cattle was woorth danged little when we’d gotten ’em; all t’ best were sold awready.”
Ewen knew what cattle they would be; the one possession of many a poor Highland home, as well as the herds of the gentry. He remembered now having heard that some of the many thousands collected from Lochaber and Badenoch were sold to English and Lowland dealers. Apparently, then, these men were on their way south through Glencoe and Breadalbane with such as they had bought, and now he knew why once or twice during this conversation he had fancied that he heard sounds of lowing at no great distance.
“I wonder if mine are all gone!” he said half to himself.
“Thou hadst cattle of thy own, lad?” enquired Mr. Fosdyke. “If thou canst see onny o’ thine among oors oop there thou shalt have them back again—and that’s none so generous as thou medst think, for there’s some Ah’d as soon give away as drive all t’ waay ower t’ Border.”
Ewen gave a weak laugh. “What should I do with cattle now? I cannot get home myself, much less drive cattle there.”
“And whoy canst thou not get home, when thou’st put summut in thy belly?” asked the Yorkshireman.
Ewen told him why he should find it difficult, if not impossible, and why he dared not go to the change-house either. The farmer pronounced that he was right in the latter course, and then made the astonishing suggestion that ‘Jan Prescott here’ should run up to the house and bring the fugitive something to eat and drink. “Dunnot say who ’tis for, Jan; say Ah’ve a moind ti eat by river, if thou loikes.” And while Jan, with amazing docility, removed the birch twig which he had been twisting between his lips and betook himself up the bank, his companion questioned Ewen further as to the direction of his home.
“T’ other soide of t’ other river? T’ other river’s nobbut a couple of moiles away . . . Tell thee what, lad,” he exclaimed, slapping himself once more, “Ah’ll tak thee as far as t’ river on one of t’ nags. Happen thou canst sit a horse still?”
“Take me there!” Ewen could only stare in amazement.
“Aye. And when thou’st gotten to this river o’ thine, hoo medst thou cross it; happen there’s brig, or ferry?”