“They’ll soon find it,” said the farmer, turning quickly to his domestics— “Away wi’ ye, lassies, and hide.”
The two servant-girls, with Jean and her cousin Aggie Wilson, ran at once into an inner room and shut the door. Ramblin’ Peter sat stolidly down beside the fire and calmly stirred the porridge-pot, which was nearly full of the substantial Scottish fare.
“Noo, sir,” said Black, turning to Will Wallace, who had stood quietly watching the various actors in the scene just described, “yer comrades’ll be here in a wee while. May I ask what ye expect?”
“I expect to be imprisoned at the least, more probably shot.”
“Hm! pleasant expectations for a young man, nae doot. I’m sorry that it’s oot o’ my power to stop an’ see the fun, for the sodgers have strange suspicions aboot me, so I’m forced to mak’ mysel’ scarce an’ leave Ramblin’ Peter to do the hospitalities o’ the hoose. But before I gang awa’ I wad fain repay ye for the guid turn ye did to my bairns. If ye are willin’ to shut yer eyes an’ do what I tell ye, I’ll put you in a place o’ safety.”
“Thank you, Mr Black,” returned Wallace; “of course I shall only be too glad to escape from the consequences of my unfortunate position; but do not misunderstand me: although neither a spy nor a Covenantor I am a loyal subject, and would not now be a deserter if that character had not been forced upon me, first by the brutality of the soldiers with whom I was banded, and then by the insolence of my comrade-in-arms to your daughter—”
“Niece; niece,” interrupted Black; “I wish she was my dauchter, bless her bonny face! Niver fear, sir, I’ve nae doot o’ yer loyalty, though you an’ yer freends misdoot mine. I claim to be as loyal as the best o’ ye, but there’s nae dictionary in this warld that defines loyalty to be slavish submission o’ body an’ sowl to a tyrant that fears naether God nor man. The quastion noo is, Div ye want to escape and wull ye trust me?”
The sound of horses galloping in the distance tended to quicken the young trooper’s decision. He submitted to be blindfolded by his captor.
“Noo, Peter,” said Andrew, as he was about to lead Wallace away, “ye ken what to dae. Gie them plenty to eat; show them the rum bottle, let them hae the rin o’ the hoose, an’ say that I bade ye treat them weel.”
“Ay,” was Ramblin’ Peter’s laconic reply.