To this question the good woman made no reply; indeed her stalwart son evidently expected none, for he rose a few minutes later and proceeded to pack up his slender wardrobe in a shoulder-bag of huge size, which, however, was well suited to his own proportions.
Next day David Laidlaw took the road which so many men have taken before him—for good or ill. But, unlike most of his predecessors, he was borne towards it on the wings of steam, and found himself in Great Babylon early the following morning, with his mother’s last caution ringing strangely in his ears.
“David,” she had said, “I ken ye was only jokin’, but dinna ye be ower sure o’ yersel’. Although thae English lassies are a kine o’ waux dolls, they have a sort o’ way wi’ them that might be dangerous to lads like you.”
“H’m!” David had replied, in that short tone of self-sufficiency which conveys so much more than the syllable would seem to warrant.
The Scottish youth had neither kith nor kin in London, but he had one friend, an old school companion, who, several years before, had gone to seek his fortune in the great city, and whose address he knew. To this address he betook himself on the morning of his arrival, but found that his friend had changed his abode. The whole of that day did David spend in going about. He was sent from one place to another, in quest of his friend, and made diligent use of his long legs, but without success. Towards evening he was directed to a street on the Surrey side of the Thames, and it was while on his way thither that he chanced to enter the alley where poor Susan was assaulted.
Like most Scotsmen of his class and size David Laidlaw was somewhat leisurely and slow in his movements when not called to vigorous exertion, but when he heard the girl’s shriek, and, a moment later, saw her fall, he sprang to her side with one lithe bound, like that of a Bengal tiger, and aimed a blow at her assailant, which, had it taken effect, would have interrupted for some time—if not terminated for ever—that rascal’s career. But the thief, though drunk, was young, strong, and active. It is also probable that he was a professional pugilist for, instead of attempting to spring back from the blow—which he had not time to do—he merely put his head to one side and let it pass. At the same instant David received a stinging whack on the right eye, which although it failed to arrest his rush, filled his vision with starry coruscations.
The thief fell back and the Scot tripped over him. Before he could recover himself the thief was up like an acrobat and gone. At the same moment two policemen, rushing on the scene in answer to the girl’s shriek, seized David by the collar and held him fast.
There was Highland as well as Lowland blood in the veins of young Laidlaw. This sanguinary mixture is generally believed to possess effervescing properties when stirred. It probably does. For one moment the strength of Goliath of Gath seemed to tingle in David’s frame, and the vision of two policemen’s heads battered together swam before his eyes—but he thought better of it and restrained himself!
“Tak’ yer hands aff me, freens,” he said, suddenly unclosing his fists and relaxing his brows. “Ye’d better see after the puir lassie. An’ dinna fear for me. I’m no gawn to rin awa’!”
Perceiving the evident truth of this latter remark, the constables turned their attention to the girl, who was by that time beginning to recover.