Tam Craik pursued his enemy, although apparently not with a fixed design of overtaking him; and Gibby, being thus left all alone with the two inverted horses and the incensed moss-trooper, extended his voice to an amazing pitch, for he knew not what state of health and strength his opponent retained. This was a horrid consideration; for if he should disengage himself and get up first, there was an end of him of the Peatstacknowe. His nasal twine was increased by his dread, and he cried so vehemently, that his cries grew like the cries of a peac.o.c.k.

Charlie Scott rode up to the main group, who continued to advance at a quiet pace, for they knew nothing as yet of the approaching danger. He also called and made signs to Tam Craik to return; and as soon as he came up to them he pointed out their pursuers, and charged them to ride for their lives. "We are betrayed," said he; but the horses of our enemies are jaded, ours are fresh; therefore, brave lads, in our master's name, spare neither spur, nor horse-flesh. Haud on your way, an' never look ower your shoulders: you will find Corby an' me twa gude back friends."

The friar bent himself forward over the mane of his mule, and opening his eyes wide abroad, he put the spurs to his steed, and set off "with the swiftness of the roe-buck or the hart," as he termed it.

The boy pursued hard after him; and the bard, taking hold of Delany's bridle by both reins below the neck, for fear her steed should stumble and throw his lovely rider, bade her whip on and fear nothing, and in this friendly guise they also made good speed. Charlie then galloped back to see if any life remained in his friend Gibby,--for he only saw him at a distance go down in the encounter, without being exactly versed in the circ.u.mstances of his overthrow; but he thought he heard one loud squeak arise from the field after the rest had left it, something like that sent forth by the small drone of the bagpipe; and, guessing that the laird was yet alive, he galloped back to see. By the way he met the deil's Tam, who returned with him, and when they came in view of the spot where the two prostrate heroes had been left, they saw a very curious scene, the more curious because it was transacted by our worthy laird in the presiding belief that he was not seen, for he was too much concerned in his own affairs to perceive the approach of his friends.

The Englishman's horse making an exertion, by pressing his feet against the ribs of the laird's Davie, by that means pushed himself forward, and Gibby perceived plainly that his enemy was to be first released. The struggles that Gibby then made were enormous. "Happ, Davie, happ!" cried he: "O mother of G.o.d, what shall become of me! Happ, Davie, happ, my man; happ, happ, happ!" and, as a last resource, he reared up his body and struck at the Englishman's limb that was above his horse, crying out to Davie to happ, in bitterness of soul. Davie was not long; for the next moment after the Englishman's horse rose, he got up also, his feet then getting to the ground; but the stirrup that had been under him was crushed together, and there his master's foot remained fixed. Gibby was worse than ever. "Wo, Davie, wo! Tproo, ye thief!" cried he. Davie, finding the weight at his side, wheeled about, and dragged the unfortunate laird round across the breast of the trooper Hall, who seized him by the neck. "Was there ever a man guidit this gate!" cried Gibby. "Honest man, an ye please, let gae; it wasna me that hurt ye."

The man answered him not; but Davie being scared by the struggle sprung aside, and the Englishman keeping his hold, Gilbert's foot was released by the loss of his boot. He was not long in making a bold effort to rise, and though Hall hung by his neck a little, it had been in the last agony of receding life that he had seized him, and he dropped dead on the green, having both fists clenched on his breast, in the act of still holding his rival.

When Gibby saw how matters stood, he began to value himself on his courage. "I's gar ye! I's gar ye!" cried he, lifting up his sword, and giving the dead man several desperate gashes, and always between every stroke repeating, "H'm! I's gar ye!" His two friends being now hard beside him, the sound of their horses' feet made him start; but lifting his eye, and perceiving who they were, he again repeated his blows, and continued his threats in a louder key.--"H'm! I's gar ye! I's gar ye, billy! I's learn you to throttle me!"

"Fy, lay on, laird!" cried Tam; "dinna ye see that the man's no half dead yet?"

"I think I hae done for him;" said Gibby: "He brings me a-mind o' a wife that had to kill her cat thrice ower. I's learn the best o' the haggies-headed Ha's to meddle wi' me!"

"I think he'll do that ane, however, Gibby; if he had e'en the nine lives o' the wife's cat," said Charlie: "therefore, an ye please, put up your sword, an' mount your horse. It's no a time now to examine whether ye hae behaved in a sodger-like manner wi' that bold trooper. If I wist ye had not, it should be the last hour I should ride in your company--but mount quick an' ride; for see whar the rest o' the Ha's are coming across us. Ilk horse an' man do what he can, or dear will be our raide, an' yours, friend, the dearest of a'."

One look filled Gilbert's eye. He mounted Davie, with the one boot off and the other on, and there was little occasion to bid him ride. Before they turned the corner of the hill, their pursuers came so close on them, that they looked very like cutting off their retreat; but a bog, around which the English were forced to cast a wide circuit, saved our three heroes, and gave them the start, by fully a half mile, of their foes, who still came in a straggling way as their horses could keep up.

After a hard chace of two Scottish miles they came up with the friar, whose mule being too heavy loaden had begun to f.a.g. When he saw them gaining on him so hard, he judged that all was over with him, and spurred on his jaded beast in vain. "O that my flesh were as my armour or my clothing," cried he, "that I might put it off at will, and escape from the face of mine enemies. Lo! I shall be left all alone, and surrounded and taken and slain." As he divined, so it fell out; the others were soon by him, and he was left the hindermost. Then they heard him lamenting to himself in his own sublime eastern stile, that he had not the wings of the eagle or the dove, that he might bear away to the mountains and the cliffs of the rocky hills, to elude the dreadful weapons of death, so often reared over his head, and so often warded by the arm of heaven.

"Poor devil!" said muckle Charlie, the tear standing in his eye; "Od I canna leave him after a'. Come what will, I for ane shall stand or fa'

wi' him. I whiles think there's mair in that body than we moorland men wot of,--I canna leave him to be cut in pieces."

"O fy, let him tak his chance," said Tam; "let him bide his weird; he deserves it a'. What signifies the creature? He's just a thing made up o' hypocritical rant, empty words, and stuffed paunches. Let him bide the buffet that fa's to his share."

"Ay, what signifies sic a corpulation?" said Jordan. "It will be lang or _he_ bring down man an' horse in an encounter. He brings me in mind o' a capon that claps his wings, but craws nane. Let him tak his chance."

"Na, but callans, troth my heart winna let me," said Charlie: "For his good deeds, or his ill anes he's answerable to heaven, an' neither to you nor me. But he's a fellow creature, an' has nane to look to for help but us at this time. Life's sweet to us a', an' it's unco hard to leave our master's bedesman just to be sacrificed. Therefore, come what will, I'll turn an' lend the friar a hand. As for you twa, ride on; the young couple that are committed to our charge may escape." With that he wheeled Corby's head about, and rode back to meet the gospel friar.

When he met him, the foremost of the riders had advanced within a bow shot, and was fast gaining ground. The friar still continued to spur on, and though his mule likewise continued the motion of one that gallops, the progress that he made was hardly discernible. He had a sort of up and down hobble that was right laughable to behold in one riding for his life. When he saw the dauntless Yardbire return to meet him, with his large seven feet sword drawn, and heaved over his right shoulder, he lifted up his voice and wept, and he said unto him;--"Blessed be thou, my son! The blessing of a man ready to perish light upon thee! And now, lo, I will draw forth my sword and return with thee to the charge, and thou shalt see what a poor bedesman can do."

"It is brawly said, good friar,--but gin ye wad save yoursel' an' me, ride. An we could but mak the end o' the Thief-gate, they should buy our twa lives dear. If thou wilt but exert man an' beast, father, you an' I shall fight, flee, or fa' thegither. But see, we are already overtaken, and in the enemy's hands."

The foremost of the riders was now hard behind them; but, perceiving Charlie, he reined up his horse and looked back for his comrades. The friar gave a glance back, and he said, "Lo, thou art a mighty man of valour, and behold there is but one; do thou fall upon him and smite him; why should one pursue two?"

"I hae heard waur advices frae mair warlike men," said Charlie; "Ride ye on, father, an' lose nae time. Gude faith! I sal gie this ane his breakfast."

Charlie as he said this put the spurs to Corby, and rode full speed against the pursuer. The trooper set himself firm in his stirrups and a.s.sumed his defence, for he saw from the prowess of Corby that it was vain to fly. Just as Charlie's mighty sword was descending on his casque, a check that he gave his horse in the hurry of the moment made him rear on end, and Charlie's stroke coming down between his ears, clove his head almost into two halves. The horse reeled and fell; but how it fared with his rider, Charlie never knew; for before he got his horse turned, there were other three of the Halls close at hand. Charlie fled amain. He was nothing afraid of himself, for he knew Corby could outstrip them by one half of the way; but his heart bled for the poor friar, whom he saw he would either be obliged to leave, or fight for him against such odds as it would be madness to withstand. The friar had, however gained the height, and having now a long sloping descent all the way to the Thief-gate-end, he was posting on at an improved pace.

Charlie had one sole hope remaining of saving the friar, and that was the gaining the above-mentioned point before they were overtaken. The warriors carried no whips in those days, depending altogether on the ample spur,--therefore Charlie, as a last resource, pulled down a large branch from a hazel tree, and attacked the hinder parts of the father's mule with such a torrent of high-sounding strokes, that the animal, perhaps more sullen than exhausted, seemed to recover new life and vigour, and fled from the a.s.sault like a deer, in the utmost terror and dismay. Little wonder was it! He heard the sound of every descending stroke coming on like the gathering tempest; and, clapping his tail close down between his hips, p.r.i.c.king up his long ears, and looking back first with the one eye and then with the other, he went at such a rate that Corby could do little more than keep up with him.

"My swiftness is greater than I can bear," cried the friar, p.r.o.nouncing the sentence all in syllables for want of breath; "verily I shall fall among the cliffs of the rocks by the side of the highway."

His danger increased with his fears; for the mule perceiving that exertion availed not, and that there was no escaping from the fierceness of his pursuer's wrath, began to throw up his heels violently at every stroke, nevertheless continuing to exert himself between these evolutions. The friar's riding-gear began to get into disorder, and with great difficulty he retained his seat; therefore he cried out with a loud voice, "I pray of thee, my son, to desist, for it is better for me to perish by an enemy's hand than thine; seest thou not my confusion and despair--verily I shall be dashed in pieces against the stones."

The friar saw nought of Charlie's intent, else he would not have besought him so earnestly to desist. The Thief-gate-end was now hard at hand. It is still well known as a long narrow path alongst the verge of a precipice, and all the bank above it was then a thicket of brushwood and gorse, so close that the wild beast of the desart could not pa.s.s through it. It was, moreover, s.h.a.gged with rocks, and bedded with small stones, and the path itself was so narrow, that two hors.e.m.e.n could scarcely ride abreast. By such a strenuous manoeuvre on the parts of Charlie and the mule, the two flyers got into this path, without having lost any ground of their pursuers. When Charlie saw this, he began to breathe more freely, and, flinging away his hazel branch, he again seized his mighty weapon in his right hand.

"Let the chields come as close on us now, an they dare," said he.

The mule still continued to eye him with a great deal of jealousy, and perceiving the brandish that he gave his long sword when he said this, he set off again full speed; so that it was a good while before the friar got time to reply. As soon as he got leisure to speak, he opened his mouth and said,--"My son, wilt thou lift up thine arm against a mult.i.tude? or canst thou contend with the torrent of the mighty waters?"

"Well, well, they may perhaps lead that winna drive," said Charlie; and he went by the friar at a light gallop, leaving him behind, who prayed to the other not to leave him nor forsake him; but it was a device of Yardbire's, and a well conceived one. He saw that as long as he kept the rear guard, and rode behind the friar, the men that pursued them would not separate on that long narrow path; therefore he vanished among the bushes, keeping, however, always within hearing of the mule's feet.

Accordingly, at the first turn of the road, the foremost of the English troopers, seeing the jolly bedesman posting away by himself, put the spurs to his steed, and made a furious dash at him. The friar cried out with a loud voice; and, seeing that he would be overtaken, he turned round and drew his sword to stand on the defensive; and actually not only bore the first charge of his opponent with considerable firmness, but had "very nigh smitten him between the joints of the harness," as he termed it. It happened, moreover, very singularly, from the perversity of the mule, that in the charge the combatants changed sides, at the imminent peril of the Englishman; for the mule brushed by his horse with such violence, and leaned so sore to the one side, that both the horse and his rider were within an inch of the verge of the precipice.

The friar had no sooner made his way by, than he saw another rider coming like lightning to meet him in the face; but at the same time he heard the voice of Charlie Scott behind him, and the rending crash of his weapon. This cheered the drooping spirits of the brave friar, who had been on the very point of crying for quarter. "They beset me before and behind," cried he, "yet shall my hand be avenged. Come on, thou froward and perverse one." So saying he a.s.sumed his guard, and met his foe face to face, seeing he had no alternative. The Englishman drew a stroke, but got not time to lay it on; for just as the mule and his tall horse met, the former, in the bitterness of his ire, rushed between his opponent and the upper bank, and pressed against his fore counters with such energy, that he made the leg next him to slacken, and the horse reared from the other. The intention of the irritated mule was to crush his master's leg, or, if possible, to rub him from off his back; and therefore, in spite of the rein he closed with the Englishman's tall steed in a moment, and almost as swift as lightning. The English moss-trooper had raised his arm to strike, but seeing his horse shoved and rearing in that perilous place, he seized the rein with his sword hand. The mule finding the substance to which he leaned give way, pressed to it the harder. It was all one to him whether it had been a tree, a horse, or a rock; he shouldered against it with his side foremost so strenuously, that in spite of all the trooper could do, the fore feet of his horse on rearing, alighted within the verge of the precipice. The n.o.ble animal made a spring from his hinder legs, in order to leap by the obstreperous mongrel; but the latter still coming the closer, instead of springing by he leaped into the open void, aiming at the branches of an oak that grew in a horizontal direction from the cliff. It was an old and stubborn tree, the child of a thousand years; and when the horse and his rider fell upon its h.o.a.ry branches, it yielded far to the weight. But its roots being entwined in the rifted rock as far as the stomach of the mountain, it sprung upward again with a prodigious force to regain its primitive position, and tossed the intruding weight afar into the unfathomed deep. Horse and rider went down in a rolling motion till they lessened to the eye, and fell on the rocks and water below with such a shock, that the clash sounded among the echoes of the linn like the first burst of the artillery of heaven, or the roar of an earthquake from the depths of the earth.

Charlie Scott gazed on the scene with horror; every feature of his countenance was changed, and every hair on his great burly head stood on end. He gave a look to heaven, crossed himself, and said a short prayer, if a prayer it may be called that consisted only of four syllables. It consisted merely in the p.r.o.nunciation of a name, too sacred to be set down in an idle tale; but he p.r.o.nounced it with an emphasis that made it doubly affecting. The friar, on the contrary, astonished at his own prowess, or rather at that of his mule, beheld the scene with wonder, it is true, but also with a shade of ostentation. "I have overthrown the horse and his rider," said he, "and they are sunk down as a stone into the mighty waters." Corby manifested the fright that he was in, by loud and reiterated snortings; the mule also was astonied, and, that he might witness the horrific scene in more perfection, he kept his tail close to the precipice, and looked back.

"Now, by my honour as a man and a warrior, father," said Charlie, "you are a man amang ten thousand. I never knew of a bedesman who behaved so gallantly, nor have I seen a knight behave better. How durst you close so instantaneously and furiously with both these valiant troopers?"

"Thou hadst better put that question to my mule," said the friar,--"for it is a truth that he hath that in him that is the ruin of many people, viz. obstinacy of heart. When he smelleth the battle he disdaineth all parley or courtesy, as thou beholdest, but rusheth upon his adversary like one of the bulls of Bashan."

At that moment the friar's eye caught a glance of several hors.e.m.e.n close upon them, but as they could only come one man rank, they paused at seeing their enemies in quiet possession of the way, and standing in peaceful colloquy, apparently about something else.

"By the life of Pharaoh," said the friar, gazing all around, "I had forgot the man whom I first engaged and smote as he pa.s.sed by."

"You will see nae mair o' him, father," said Charlie; "I gae him a deadly wound, but the saddle was locked to the horse, and the man to the saddle, and the furious animal has escaped away to the forest with the dead man on its back."

"Thou art indeed a man of valour," said the friar; "and here will we keep our ground. I will do more in our defence than thou hast yet witnessed; therefore, be not afraid, my son, for that sword of thine is a good sword."

"It is a good sword at a straik," returned Charlie; "but it's no very handy at making a defence. But an I get the first yerk of a chield, I'm no unco feared for his return. However, father, this sword, sic as it is, shall be raised in your defence as lang as my arm can wag it. I like the man that will stand a brush when a pinch comes,--see, thae chaps darena come on us. But, ill luck to the coward! gin they winna come to us, we'll gang to them."

"I will certainly go with thee," said the friar; "but I know the nature of the beast that I bestride, and that it will at the first onset bear me into the thickest of the battle; therefore, be not thou far from me in my need, for, though nothing afraid, yet I know it will carry me into peril. Come, let us go and smite these men with the edge of the sword."

"Gallant friar," said Charlie, "the Thief-road is lang an' narrow, an'

there's hardly a bit o't that they can come on us twa in a breast; stand ye still; or be chopping on your way, an' I'll let you see yon lads get a surprise for aince."

"Nay, I will certainly stand with thee in battle," said the friar; "thinkest thou I will stand and be a looker on, when my preserver is in jeopardy? Lo, my heart is as thy heart, my arm as thy arm, and--but I cannot say my horse is as thy horse, for the beast is indeed froward in his ways, and perverse in all his doings."

Charlie hardly smiled at the phrase of the worthy friar,--for he meditated an attack on their pursuers, and his eye kindled with his heart toward the battle. He heaved up his sword-arm twice at its full stretch, to feel if it was nowise enc.u.mbered in the armour, and putting Corby in motion, he rode deliberately up to the face of his enemies. The foremost man spoke to him, demanding what he wanted; but he only answered by heaving his sword a little higher, and making his horse mend his pace. In one second after that he was engaged with the first man, and in two seconds the horse and his rider had fallen in the middle of the path. Charlie listed not coming to close quarter; his sword was so long and heavy, that it was quite unhandy in warding the blows of a short and light weapon. His aim, therefore, was always to get the first stroke, which was as apt to light on the horse as the man, and thus down both of them went. Springing by the prostrate warrior, he attacked the second and the third in the same manner, and with the same success, always either cutting down the trooper or cleaving the head of his horse at the first stroke. The path was now in the utmost confusion. Owing to the pause that had taken place, all the riders had come up and crowded each other behind, some crying, "He is a devil!" and others at a greater distance shouting out, "Down with the Scot! down with him!" Charlie regarded not their cries, but laid about him with all his might, till, after striking down three of the foremost and one horse, those next to him were glad to turn in order to effect their escape; but the hindermost on the path refusing for a while to give way, many of their friends fell a sacrifice to Charlie's wrath. He pursued them for a s.p.a.ce, and might have cut them off every man, had he been sure that all was safe behind,--but he had rushed by some wounded men and wounded horses, and knew not how matters stood with the friar.

As he dreaded, so it fell out. Two of the Englishmen who had fallen perhaps under their horses, had scrambled up the bosky precipice, and, as he returned, a.s.sailed him with large stones, a mode of attack against which he was unable to make the least resistance. Therefore, it was at the utmost peril of his life that he made his way back through the enc.u.mbered path to his friend the friar. This latter worthy had found it impossible to lend his friend any a.s.sistance. The beast that he bestrode was fonder of rubbing shoulders with a living brute, than a mangled or dead one; so he refused to come nearer the first that fell than about twice his own length, where he stood firm, turning his tail to the scene of battle, and looking back. Our two heroes now set off at full speed after the rest of their party, whom they expected to overtake before reaching the outposts of the beleaguering army.

CHAPTER XII.

_Lord Duffus._--I saw the appearance of a mounted warrior.

Whence did it come, or whither did it go?

Or whom did it seek here?

Hush thee, my lord; The apparition spoke not, but pa.s.sed on.

'Tis something dreadful; and, I fear me much, Betokens evil to this fair array.

_Trag. of the Prioress._

The rest of our cavalcade continued to advance at a quick pace, not without anxiety. They were not afraid of their enemies coming behind them, for they had strong faith in the prowess of their friend, as well as his horse Corby. But when they came to the end of the narrow path, called the Thief-gate, there were two roads, and they knew not which of these to follow. As bad luck would have it, they took the most easterly, which led towards Yetholm, and left the Scottish army to the westward.

In that path they continued to jog on, turning many a long look behind them for the approach of Charlie; and, at one time, they thought they got a view of him coming at a furious pace all alone; but the rider being at a great s.p.a.ce behind them, he was shortly hid from their view in an intervening hollow, and it was long before they saw him any more.