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
"Fair play, my tears! Fair play's a shewel everywhere, and I suppose
here too." And, saying this, with one thundering blow that fairly split
the skull of the unfortunate wight on whom it fell in twain, Donald
lessened the number of the combatants by one. The person to whose aid he
had thus so unexpectedly and opportunely come, seeing what an effectual
ally he had got, gave a shout of triumphant joy, and, although much
exhausted by the violence and length of his exertions in defending
himself, instantly became the assailant in his turn. Inspired with new
life and vigour, he pressed on his enemies with a fury that compelled
them to give way; and, being splendidly seconded by Donald, whose
tremendous blows were falling with powerful effect on those against whom
they were directed, the result was, in a few seconds, the flight of the
enemy; who, in rapid succession, one after the other, took to their
heels, although not without carrying along with them several authentic
certificates of the efficiency of Donald's claymore.
On the retreat of the bravos--for such they were--the person whom Donald
had so efficiently served in his hour of need, flew towards him, and,
taking him in his arms, poured out a torrent of thanks for the prompt
and gallant aid he had afforded him. But, as these thanks were expressed
in Spanish, they were lost on him to whom they were addressed. Not so,
however, the indications of gratitude evinced in the acts by which they
were accompanied. These Donald perfectly understood, and replied to them
as if their sense had been conveyed to him in a language which he
comprehended.
"No thanks at all, my tear sir. A Heelantman will always assist a freend
where a few plows will do him goot. You would shust do the same to me,
I'm sure. But," added Donald, as he sheathed his most serviceable
weapon, "this is the tam place for fechtin' I have ever seen. I thocht
our own Heelants pad enough, but this is ten times worse, py Shoseph! I
have no peen more than four-and-twenty hours in Ma-a-treed, and I'll
have peen in tree fecht already."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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