’Then we utterly lost you, and I believe they would have given up the
search. But I minded me of the dogs that James of Chapeldonnan keeps
for his own purposes, which on my way to Ailsa I had seen his wife feed.
So I told the Earl John of them, and he had James Bannatyne brought, and
bade him bring them to set on the trail, promising him his life if the
matter were brought to a good issue.
’And so Robert Harburgh and a few swords were sent to Chapeldonnan with
James Bannatyne—with his life upon it if he played them false, and
Robert Harburgh’s sword near his ribs each time that he faltered or
failed to remember. And the good wife, seeing her man in such deadly
case, came back herself to plead with the King for him.
’So the Chapeldonnan pack was laid on the trail, and fine well-hungered
bloodhounds they were. But so soon as I heard the first deep bay, when,
with noses on the ground, they took the line of the shore, it went to my
heart that since you were the last to enter the wood the dogs would
first seize you. So I cried a word to Robert Harburgh, and we two that
loved you spurred horses and sped on well-nigh level with the dogs.
’And through all the windings and wimplings of your path we followed
till we came to the shore, where, together with the King’s oaken staff
which had been in your hand, we found the place all trampled with naked
feet and stains of blood. So we traced you across the shore grass to
the sand and over the sand into the sea, with a company of bare feet and
many stains of blood.
’Then for a moment I knew not what to think. But Marjorie, my sister,
cried out, "It is the vile wretches of Sawny Bean’s band who have taken
him to the Cave of Death!"
’Then I remembered that the entrance to the cavern was among the rocks,
and yet because of the gladness that was in our hearts when we issued
forth, I had taken no very great pains to mind the exact place. Nor was
the Dominie aught the wiser. For he had been wholly intent on blowing
upon his pipes. But Marjorie minded better than any of us the cleave in
the rocks, and showed us to a nearness where the cave entrance was. But
the tide had flowed in, and we had perforce to wait and calm our
impatience as best we might till it went back again, ere we could follow
into the cave mouth. But by this time it was dark, so that the
men-at-arms had to find rosin torches and set them alight.
’Thus with the flambeaux blazing and the smoke wavering red overhead we
took our way along the wet edge of the sea. But the tide had washed
away all traces of blood and feet. Up and down the coast we wandered
trying every covert. And yet for our lives we could not hit upon the
right cave’s entrance. The dogs ran yelping and nosing here and there,
but for long nothing came of it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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