Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 02
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 02
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
"Well, well," he said, "if you'll not have satisfaction any other way
than py the sword, py the sword you shall have it."
And instantly drawing, he stood ready to encounter at once the whole
host of his enemies. What might have been the result of so unequal a
contest, had it taken place, we cannot tell--and this simply because
no encounter did take place. At the moment that Donald was awaiting
the onset of the foe--a proceeding, by the way, which they were now
marvellously slow in adopting, notwithstanding the fury with which
they had opened the assault, a party of the king's guard, with fixed
bayonets, rushed into the apartment, and bore Donald forcibly out into
the street, where they left him, with angry signs that if he attempted
to return, he would meet with still worse treatment. Donald had prudence
enough to perceive that any attempt to resent the insult that had been
offered him--seeing that it was perpetrated by a dozen men armed with
musket and bayonet--would be madness, and therefore contented himself
with muttering in Gaelic some expressions of high indignation and
contempt. Having delivered himself to this effect, he proudly adjusted
his plaid, and stalked majestically away.
It was now so far advanced in the morning that Donald abandoned all idea
of seeking for a bed, and resolved on prosecuting an assiduous search
for his brother. This he accordingly commenced, and numerous were the
calls at shops, and frequent the inquiries he made for Tuncan Gorm; but
unavailing were they all. No one understood a word of what he addressed
to them; and thus, of course, no one could give him the information he
desired. It was in vain, too, that Donald carefully scanned every sign
that he passed, to see that it did not bear the anxiously looked for
name. On none of them did it appear. They were all, as Donald himself
said, Fouros, and Beuros, and Lebranos, and Dranos, and other outlandish
and unchristian-like names. Not a heeland or lowland shopkeeper amongst
them. No such a decent and civilized name to be met with as Gorm, or
Brolachan, or M'Fadyen, or Macharuarich, or M'Cuallisky.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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