Muckle John

“ THE WHISTLE OF THE BANSHEE
In the greyness of the dawn Muckle John called a halt.
"Rob," he said, "here is the day and only a mile covered since last night. Ye ken what that means? Within a few hours reinforcements will arrive from Fort Augustus, they will find the body of Strange—what must follow then?"
Rob shook his head. Escape seemed impossible.
"And yet," said Muckle John, "there must be a way—there's always a way, Rob, if you give your mind to it. There is no prison that cannot be broken, no wall that cannot be scaled—with luck and a cool head. ”

“ In the pause that followed Muckle John changed the tune to the "Lament for the Children," which is like a moonlit sea for sadness. All the glen lay silent for a space at his playing; In a kind of superstitious fear the red-coats waited, dreading the black hills and menacing landscape, but dreading most of all the stricken player up above. It was Captain Strange who shook them from their panic.
Very cautiously they began to creep upwards, and at that, Muckle John put away his whistle, and turning for his sword, saw Rob standing beside him, a bare claymore in his hand. ”

“ Most men gave Muckle John a wide berth.
Even as he brooded on the matter the grey horse tripped and fell. No power on earth could have kept it on its feet. It was utterly done. With a groan it collapsed upon its knees and rolled over on its side. Muckle John had slipped off as it staggered and now stood above it studying the next move. He was above all anxious to get a glimpse of his pursuers. Loosening his sword and taking a pistol from his great-coat pocket, he lay alongside the horse as though his leg were securely fastened beneath it in its fall. ”

“ The clatter of Macaulay's flying form and his muffled cries drew the newcomers past the place where they lay, and then springing to his hands and feet Muckle John made off in the opposite direction into the heart of the swirling mist. There was a brief silence and then far away, came a shrill yell taken up again and again until every crag seemed alive with voices, and the faint glow of the rising sun made their escape seem impossible.
"They've found him," cried Muckle John, mounting the hillside at a great pace with Rob at his heels, "so it's save your breath and follow me." ”

“ The preparations for this expedition were under discussion when Muckle John and Rob came into the main street. For a while they walked along in silence, Muckle John grown suddenly gravely absorbed, and taking such great strides that Rob was hard put to it to keep up. The dawn was come, and with it the town of Inverness began to hum and buzz like a hive of bees. Men, quartered in every house along the narrow street, commenced to pour out upon the highway, some putting on their sword-belts as they came, others wiping sleep out of their tired eyes with their knuckled hands. ”

“ Now Rob was not the one to take blows from any one, least of all before a crowd of jeering strangers, and had Muckle John not given him a look there is no saying but that he might have acted rashly.
"There are times," answered Muckle John, "when a man is grateful for small mercies."
Instantly Mackenzie grew very red and took to breathing quickly, like all Highlanders in a passion.
"I seem to know your face," said he, "but I do not know the tartan you wear."
"It is a strange people you are," said Muckle John, "who do not know a bard when you see one." ”

“ That there was danger afoot he knew instinctively, but his great reliance upon Muckle John seemed to almost dissipate such perils. There was a mountain of strength in Muckle John.
The darkness was falling fast when of a sudden, like the spring of a leopard for swiftness, a man was upon his back and with the crook of his arm around his throat. Uttering one faint cry Rob tumbled backwards, and before he could struggle to his feet, his legs were gripped by another man and a third flung himself bodily upon his chest. ”

“ If not to-night then to-morrow, and he might wander over—miles of heather for days on end.
Meanwhile the brain of Muckle John was working. The future lay open to him like a man reading a map. He must throw them off the scent or perish. If not to-night—to-morrow. He would never come to grips with them—that he knew too well. It would be in his heavy sleep in the blackness of a Highland night. It must not be thought Muckle John was much concerned at the prospect. Those were days when life was not held dearly, and when a soldier of fortune might be hard put to it several times in a week. ”

“ Twice during the brief halt a man had crept out of the encircling darkness and scrutinized them narrowly. There was no sound beyond the wind sighing amongst the corries, but each time Muckle John had seen the heather quiver before something noiseless and stealthy that disappeared as softly as it had come. Once from far up the hill he heard a long whistle like a curlew on the wing.
At last he turned his head and let his eyes rest on Rob, and then again upon the grey horse with its drooping head. With a faint shrug of his shoulders he shook the boy. ”

“ Suddenly from the heather at their very feet a man leapt up—a squat, red-headed fellow with a naked dirk in his hand. Something in Macaulay's dim face seemed to have aroused his suspicions.
"Who are you?" he cried in Gaelic.
"Answer him," growled Muckle John in Macaulay's ear, but before he could say a word, the Highlander had scanned Rob's face, and with a shrill warning scream he leaped backward into the heather. It was his last mortal word. With a whistle of flying steel Muckle John whipped his claymore free, and lunging as it swung from the scabbard, drove the blade in to the hilt. ”

“ Out in the night Muckle John stood deep in thought, then climbing softly over the wall he reached Rob and the great grey horse.
"I must leave you for a while, Rob," he whispered, "but I'll return, never fear, and keep watch for the bit tune—ye mind the way it goes—" and he whistled a bar. "Keep on the top of the hills, laddie, but mind the skyline, and never stir by day. It's advice easily given but a weary business to follow," and putting his foot in the stirrup he mounted and walked softly down the glen. ”

“ They were chattering together like monkeys as Muckle John and Rob approached, but on seeing them they fell silent and stared at them both with hostile, insolent eyes. There was not a man there who did not think of Culloden the moment he saw them—Muckle John with his limp and Rob with hunted Jacobite written all over him. There was little welcome for strangers in those days when a body of red-coats on the smallest pretext might burn an unoffending village to the ground. ”

“ What did come to that same treasure, Rob? Where was it buried or was it not buried at all?"
"I cannot say," replied Rob, "for I do not know."
Muckle John sighed and then shaking him by the hand addressed the far distance with a pensive and melancholy gaze.
"Whether a man is mair injudicious as a fool or a knave must ever be a matter of argument," he mused aloud, "but I ken fine which I would have ye be, Rob," and shaking his head he began to move away.
Suddenly, however, he paused and coming back more quickly led Rob down to the edge of the loch. ”

“ At that a great yell of anger broke out, and a sudden rush was made for the lowest rock, upon which half a dozen men climbed and thence swarmed up within three feet of where Muckle John stood, awaiting them.
At that he swung down upon them, and laying about him with his claymore, cleared the stone and stood looking upon the crowd of his enemies with great good-humour. Growling sullen threats, they fell back out of reach of his deadly sword, and so, setting his back against the crag, he drew out his whistle and, placing the hilt of his claymore between his legs, he broke into a Highland rant. ”

“ Muckle John glanced at him very casually and fell to examining his finger-nails, while Rob stared at the stranger in open wonder.
Behind the man in the doorway there clustered a half-dozen dirty Mackenzies like cattle beasts nosing at a gate.
Neil Mackenzie, for he it was, set about ordering a drink for himself and then sitting down upon a stool he stared at Muckle John in the same insolent manner, while into the room trooped the men from the roadside, intent on the sport. They had seen Neil at this game before. He was the rare one to lay a stranger by the heels. ”

“ In the red firelight Rob could see their eyes gleam beneath their matted hair. With hypnotized gaze he watched a man unsheath his dirk and make a gesture significant enough, and with a gurgle in the throat requiring no explanation. So that was to be the end of it all—a secret murder by a band of lawless caterans ready to prey upon every stranger luckless enough to beg a night's lodging. He would never see Muckle John again. It made him wonder what he would have done to save his life. Muckle John always had a way. ”

“ Then, wrapping himself in his great-coat, Muckle John took the reed from his pocket and began to play a Skye song that the oarsmen sing for keeping time. But soon he tired of that and played an old Highland lament that is as full of sorrow as the hollow of the hills with snow. He played it in a heart-breaking fashion with an eye upon the boy in the cave-mouth, who was a Macpherson and easily moved. ”

“ Good-bye to ye, Rob, and here's some siller just in case you are hungry or want a night's lodging. But be careful of the wandering bodies Rannoch way, for they'd cut your throat for a nod and follow you to London for the clink of a bawbee."
"Good-bye," said Rob, "where do you go now, Muckle John?"
"I make for Arisaig," he replied, "I have a debt to pay."
"A debt?"
"Not so surprised, Rob, no man pays his just debts like Muckle John. Dirk for dirk—shot for shot—chase for chase—there is no honester soul than Muckle John." ”

“ You must search Lochaber, Captain Strange. I doubt you've made a sair muddle of this."
The moon was topping the hills, and a soft grey light stole suddenly down the crags, and fell upon the face of Strange.
"What of your men?" asked Muckle John at last.
Strange gave a bitter laugh.
"They will not stir," he said, "and if they do, Rob here can hold the pass."
"I am not an executioner," said Muckle John, "and I have only one leg."
"Then I must say that Muckle John was mair glib with his tongue than his sword. But I will not say Muckle John—I will say..." ”

“ It set the soldiers shivering and stumbling camp wards. It also set Muckle John free and travelling slowly towards the rough land at the foot of the slope.
And then he thrust his head through the hay, like a tortoise out of its shell, and looked about him.
To his right stood a sentry, apparently dozing, To his left, another sentry, but marching to and fro to keep warm. Very patiently Muckle John waited for several things to happen. It was inevitable that darkness would fall soon, and that meant safety. ”

“ Gradually the little group about him thinned, until only a bare dozen remained, and it was in a breathing-space that Rob suddenly perceived Muckle John amongst them.
His head was bound in a piece of tartan, and bleeding profusely; but the smile was in his eyes, and his claymore rose and fell, and every time a man floundered upon the ground. Before him there lay a heap of Englishmen as high as his elbow.
Presently the smoke of powder cleared a little, and over the moor came a squadron of dragoons at a loose canter, killing all who stood in their way, both wounded and unarmed. ”

“ He motioned to the men to leave them, and sitting down began to talk in an affable pleasant manner as though he were discussing the weather or the price of stocks.
"Hark ye, Rob," he said, "I ken fine who ye're waiting for. It's Muckle John no less, and what I have in my mind I must say quickly. Now we want this little business carried through expeditiously and with discretion. We do not want any pranks, mind ye, and ye ken Muckle John as a man as full of tricks as a monkey. I want ye to sit here, Rob, until he comes, and promise me no to say a word to set him thinking. ”

“ Had they known what was in him a year before, who can say but the Highlands would have risen to a man.
To Rob he was wonderful, just because he was human and in distress. Even to Muckle John, strange medley of contradictions as he was, there was present in the harassed figure in the opening to the cave an emotional appeal like the lilt of an old song. Some day he knew he would compose a melody for his beloved chanter. ”

“ There will be a bonny ending for you, sir, when it is known in Lochaber."
"Lochaber," sneered Muckle John. "While there is a guineapiece buried in Lochaber neither you nor the Prince himself would raise a Cameron to his side."
"Braw words for a nameless man," cried Cameron bitterly, but very red about the neck. "Hark, Rob, for maybe ye will never hear the like again."
"I am no nameless man!" roared Muckle John; "and well ye know it."
Cameron smiled quietly to himself.
"Then the greater the smirch on your clan—though I'm no just remembering the tartan," he said. ”

“ Yesterday I was with him in Inverness. He told me much about you, my lord—and your promises."
Lovat shrugged his shoulders.
"It is easy to listen to one side of a matter," he replied tartly. "Castleleathers is a fool—I have never suffered fools gladly."
"Even you make mistakes sometimes, my lord."
The fear of capture took Lovat by the throat.
"Aye," he gulped, "but this is no time to quarrel. Let bygones be bygones. I did ye a wrong long since, I'll allow, but surely ye can forgive and forget?"
"No," said Muckle John, "I never forgive nor forget." ”