Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing TimesMacKenna, Robert William
History
Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing Times
MacKenna, Robert William
Adventure stories; Covenanters -- Scotland -- Fiction; Love stories; Scotland -- History -- 17th century -- Fiction
I was bruised by my fall and my limbs were still shaking when I
struggled up, but I hurried on again, and by and by the tinkle of the
river as it rippled over its bed fell on my ear like delicate,
companionable music. When I reached its edge I sat down for a moment
and peered into the darkness towards the other side; but gaze as I might
I could not see across it. It looked dark and cold and uncertain, and
though I was a swimmer I had no desire to find myself flung suddenly out
of my depth. So, before I took off my shoes and stockings, I cut a long
wand from a willow near, and with this in my hand I began warily to
adventure the passage. I stood ankle deep in the water and felt for my
next step with my slender staff. It gave me no support, but it let me
know with each step the depth that lay before me. By-and-by I reached
the other side, and painfully--because of my naked feet--I traversed it
until I came to the green sward beyond. Here I sat down in the shelter
of a clump of bushes and put on my shoes and stockings. The cold water
had braced me, and I was my own man again.
As I set out once more I calculated that the sun would rise in three
hours’ time, and I knew that an hour after sunrise it would be dangerous
for me to continue my flight in the open. For, though the country-side
was but thinly peopled, some shepherd on the hills or some woman from
her cottage door might espy a strange figure trespassing upon their
native solitude. To be seen might prove my undoing, so I hurried on
while the darkness was still upon the earth.
When day broke I was up among the hills. Now I began to walk
circumspectly, scanning the near and distant country before venturing
across any open space; and when the sun had been up for an hour, and the
last silver beads of dew were beginning to dry on the tips of the
heather, I set about finding a resting-place. It was an easy task, for
the heather and bracken grew luxuriantly. I crawled into the middle of
a clump of bracken, and drawing the leafy stems over me lay snugly hid.
I was foot-sore and hungry, but I helped myself to Luckie’s good
provender, and almost as soon as I had finished my meal I was fast
asleep.
When I awoke I was, for a moment, at a loss to understand my
surroundings. Then I remembered my flight, and all my senses were alive
again. I judged from the position of the sun that it must be late
afternoon. Caution made me wary, and I did not stir from my lair, for I
knew that questing troopers might already be on the adjacent hill-sides
looking for me, and their keen eyes would be quick to discern any
unusual movement in the heart of a bed of bracken, so I lay still and
waited. Then I dozed off again, and when I awoke once more, the stars
were beginning to appear.
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