Outlaws -- Fiction; Rob Roy, 1671-1734 -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- 1689-1745 -- Fiction
They questioned him closely about all that had passed at Osbaldistone
Hall, and seemed surprised and concerned at the report he made to them.
"And troth," said Andrew, "I tauld them a' I ken'd; for dirks and pistols
were what I could never refuse information to in a' my life."
They talked in whispers among themselves, and at length collected their
cattle together, and drove them close up to the entrance of the avenue,
which might be half a mile distant from the house. They proceeded to drag
together some felled trees which lay in the vicinity, so as to make a
temporary barricade across the road, about fifteen yards beyond the
avenue. It was now near daybreak, and there was a pale eastern gleam
mingled with the fading moonlight, so that objects could be discovered
with some distinctness. The lumbering sound of a coach drawn by four
horses, and escorted by six men on horseback, was heard coming up the
avenue. The Highlanders listened attentively. The carriage contained Mr.
Jobson and his unfortunate prisoners. The escort consisted of Rashleigh,
and of several horsemen, peace-officers and their assistants. So soon as
we had passed the gate at the head of the avenue, it was shut behind the
cavalcade by a Highland-man, stationed there for that purpose. At the
same time the carriage was impeded in its farther progress by the cattle,
amongst which we were involved, and by the barricade in front. Two of the
escort dismounted to remove the felled trees, which they might think were
left there by accident or carelessness. The others began with their whips
to drive the cattle from the road.
"Who dare abuse our cattle?" said a rough voice.--"Shoot him, Angus!"
Rashleigh instantly called out--"A rescue! a rescue!" and, firing a
pistol, wounded the man who spoke.
"_Claymore!_" cried the leader of the Highlanders, and a scuffle
instantly commenced. The officers of the law, surprised at so sudden an
attack, and not usually possessing the most desperate bravery, made but
an imperfect defence, considering the superiority of their numbers. Some
attempted to ride back to the Hall, but on a pistol being fired from
behind the gate, they conceived themselves surrounded, and at length
galloped of in different directions. Rashleigh, meanwhile, had
dismounted, and on foot had maintained a desperate and single-handed
conflict with the leader of the band. The window of the carriage, on my
side, permitted me to witness it. At length Rashleigh dropped.
"Will you ask forgiveness for the sake of God, King James, and auld
friendship?" said a voice which I knew right well.
"No, never!" said Rashleigh, firmly.
"Then, traitor, die in your treason!" retorted MacGregor, and plunged his
sword in his prostrate antagonist.
In the next moment he was at the carriage door--handed out Miss Vernon,
assisted her father and me to alight, and dragging out the attorney, head
foremost, threw him under the wheel.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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