If the testimony of Davie's old grandmother was to be trusted, the ancient glories of the house of Lanark had dwindled away from generation to generation, so that nowadays there was nothing to be compared with the splendors she had seen when she was a lassie. She was greatly scandalized because the present laird not only superintended the affairs of his estate, but had even been known to labor with his own hands.
"His forbears wad hae scorned to do the like," she would exclaim, adding, with a mysterious shake of the head, "but gin the young laird had a' that belanged to him, he wad na need to dicker and delve like ane o' his ain sarvants, forsooth!"
The story which lay concealed in these words was this:
In the year 1745, when the then existing laird forsook his home to follow the fortunes of Prince Charles Edward—for he was a staunch Jacobite—he enclosed his treasure in an iron box and buried it in the earth. The sole witness and aid to this transaction was his faithful follower, Hugh Cameron.
At the battle of Culloden Lanark was killed, and Hugh received a wound which proved mortal. Before he died he confided the secret of the buried treasure to his younger brother, Archie, and would fain have directed him to its hiding-place, but when he had uttered the words "under the Rowan tree in" ——, his spirit departed, and the sentence was left forever unfinished.
Years passed before Archie returned again to his home, and when he did return there Lanark estate had been partially laid waste by English soldiers. Rowan trees there were in plenty, but some had newly sprung up, and many old ones had been laid low, so that where in all those broad lands the iron box lay concealed, it was impossible to determine.
Diligent search was made for it, from time to time, but without success; and when that generation had passed away the tradition came to be regarded as doubtful, if not fabulous.
But old Mrs. Cameron, who, although not born at the time of the battle of Culloden, had heard the story in her childhood from her grandfather, who was no other than Archie himself, believed it as she believed the truths of Holy Writ.
But then the "auld gudewife" believed in many other things which her posterity had grown wise enough to reject,—such as wraiths, witches, spunkies, and the like; and if rallied on the subject she would reply, indignantly, "And did na I my ain sel', see the fairies dancing in the briken-shaw, one Halloween?"
Moreover, Mrs. Cameron held fast to the Jacobite principles of her ancestors, for one of whom she claimed the honor of having once sheltered the young chevalier in the days of his perilous and weary wanderings. In acknowledgment of the act the prince had given him a gold buckle from his hat, and promised to bestow upon him the order of knighthood, whenever he should come to the throne. The order, of course, was never received, but the buckle was still carefully preserved.