So with that I undid the bolts and put the Dominie behind it. I set my
feet upon the jutting stones on which the wooden stair usually rested,
and so scrambled perilously down, holding on to the wall with my right
hand the while. When I came to him the lad was lying gasping on his back
with the stones edgewise on his breast. I asked him how he did. He
seemed past speech, but was able to motion me round to the further side.
There I stooped gently in order to raise the great block that lay upon
his bosom.
I stepped carefully about and turned my body to render him my aid as
tenderly as I could. But I got a sudden and terrible surprise, and
though I am not one much given to fear, I own that it shook my heart.
Even as I stooped over him, the fellow flung oft the stones as if they
had been featherweights, leaped upon his own feet with a bended pistol
in his hand, and stood in front of me, striding across the path which
led back again to the castle door.
At the same moment I heard a loud shout of warning from the Dominie,
that the enemy were again coming down the brae. I had no time to draw
my dagger, and for greater lightness I had left my sword behind. I saw
the rascal make him ready to fire at me, aiming at my heart. So I
remembered a French trick of high kicking which Robert Harburgh had once
taught me, for he had been in France at the schools with his master the
Earl, and had learned much there besides philosophy.
So I gave the fellow my foot, shod with toe-plates, full upon his wrist,
which knocked the pistol up against his chin with a stunning crash. In
the next moment I leaped at his throat and overbore him, spurning him
with my heel as I passed. I can remember leaping upon him with all my
weight from the top of one of the very stones the traitor had pulled
down upon himself.
Then I ran fleet-foot for the entrance of the castle. Others of the
enemy were just coming about the corner when I reached the projecting
points of stone. With my heart in my mouth I sprang up the little juts
of rock. I was almost within and in safety, but I had not counted upon
the swiftness and resource of my gentleman of the fallen stone. He was
hard upon my heels in spite of the thundering clout he had gotten on the
jaw from the pistol. But luckily my brave little friend the Dominie
stood ready behind the door, and as soon as my hindmost foot was over
the threshold, he set his strength to the iron handle and sent the massy
oak home to its fastenings with such force that it struck the pursuer
fair on the face with a stunning crash. As a stone is driven from a
sling, so he fell whirling over the stair head, and, unable to stop
himself, he went, gripping vainly at the rock-weeds, headlong over the
cliff.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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