Adventure stories; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
We went about the end of the long craigs, and came into the Hunter’s
Bog. Here, on a piece of fair turf, my adversary drew. There was nobody
there to see us but some birds; and no resource for me but to follow
his example, and stand on guard with the best face I could display. It
seems it was not good enough for Mr. Dancansby, who spied some flaw in
my manœuvres, paused, looked upon me sharply, and came off and on, and
menaced me with his blade in the air. As I had seen no such proceedings
from Alan, and was besides a good deal affected with the proximity of
death, I grew quite bewildered, stood helpless, and could have longed
to run away.
“Fat deil ails her?” cries the lieutenant.
And suddenly engaging, he twitched the sword out of my grasp and sent
it flying far among the rushes.
Twice was this manœuvre repeated; and the third time when I brought
back my humiliated weapon, I found he had returned his own to the
scabbard, and stood awaiting me with a face of some anger, and his
hands clasped under his skirt.
“Pe tamned if I touch you!” he cried, and asked me bitterly what right
I had to stand up before “shentlemans” when I did not know the back of
a sword from the front of it.
I answered that was the fault of my upbringing; and would he do me the
justice to say I had given him all the satisfaction it was
unfortunately in my power to offer, and had stood up like a man?
“And that is the truth,” said he. “I am fery prave myself, and pold as
a lions. But to stand up there—and you ken naething of fence!—the way
that you did, I declare it was peyond me. And I am sorry for the plow;
though I declare I pelief your own was the elder brother, and my heid
still sings with it. And I declare if I had kent what way it wass, I
would not put a hand to such a piece of pusiness.”
“That is handsomely said,” I replied, “and I am sure you will not stand
up a second time to be the actor for my private enemies.”
“Indeed, no, Palfour,” said he; “and I think I was used extremely
suffeeciently myself to be set up to fecht with an auld wife, or all
the same as a bairn whateffer! And I will tell the Master so, and fecht
him, by Cot, himself!”
“And if you knew the nature of Mr. Simon’s quarrel with me,” said I,
“you would be yet the more affronted to be mingled up with such
affairs.”
He swore he could well believe it; that all the Lovats were made of the
same meal and the devil was the miller that ground that; then suddenly
shaking me by the hand, he vowed I was a pretty enough fellow after
all, that it was a thousand pities I had been neglected, and that if he
could find the time, he would give an eye himself to have me educated.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account