“It was Carlisle that I was going to in the end.”
“Ah!” said Mr. Fosdyke comprehendingly. “But some poor devils are setting oot for York, too, we hear. Thou’s best coom along wi’ us.” And giving his great laugh he began to embroider his pleasantry. “Thou doesna loike the notion? Whoy not? York’s a foine toon, Ah can tell thee, and more gates tiv it for setting rebels’ heads on than Carlisle. Ah lay we have a row o’ them ower Micklegate Bar come Christmas. And thou’st not wishful ti add thine?”
Ewen shook the imperilled head in question with a smile.
“No,” agreed Mr. Fosdyke, “best keep it ti lay on t’ pillow besoide they wife’s. If she’s in France, then thou’rt not a poor man, eh?”
“I am what you call a gentleman,” replied Ewen, “though I expect that I am poor enough now.”
“If thou’rt a gentleman,” pronounced Mr. Fosdyke, “then thou dost reet ti keep away fra York and Carlisle, aye, and fra Lunnon, too.—Noo, Jan, we’ll gan and see aboot t’ nags. Thou medst bide here, lad. Come on, Lassie.”
With tramplings and cracklings they were gone, dog and all, and, but for the yet unfinished food and drink, which were putting new life into Ewen, the whole encounter might have been a dream. As he waited there for their return he wondered whether Alison’s prayers had sent these good angels, which, to his simple and straightforward faith, seemed quite likely.
Presently the larger of the angels came back and helped him along the slope to the scene of his exploit at the bridge. Here was the satellite Jan with two stout nags, a flea-bitten grey and a black. A long and ample coat (certainly not Mr. Prescott’s) was provided for the Jacobite. “If thou wert clothed like a Christian there’d ha’ been no need for this,” said Mr. Fosdyke with frankness as he helped him into it; and then, the difficulty of getting into the saddle surmounted, Ewen found himself half incredulously riding behind the broad back of his benefactor over the brawling Spean, in his hand a stout cattle goad to assist his steps when he should be on his feet again.
In the two miles before they came to the river Lochy they had the luck to meet no one. There the clouds hung so low that the other side of the Great Glen was scarcely visible. When they came to the ford Ewen pulled up and made to dismount. But Mr. Fosdyke caught him by the arm. “Nay, if thou canst scarce walk on land, Ah doot thou’ll walk thruff water! Daisy will tak thee ower. Coom on, mare.”
The two horses splashed placidly through in the mist. On the other side Ewen struggled off, and got out of the coat.