Fiction > Book editions > London, 1886 - Kidnapped

CLUNY'S CAGE.                             231
bed, and had his face close to my eyes; to which,
troubled as they were with the fever, it seemed of the
most shocking bigness.
He asked me for a loan of my money.
"What for?" said I.
"Oh, just for a loan," said he.
"But why?" I repeated.    "I don't see."
"Hut, David!" said Alan, "ye wouldnae grudge
me a loan?"
I would though, if I had had my senses! But all I
thought of then was to get his face away, and I handed
him my money.
On the morning of the third day, when we had been
forty-eight hours in the Cage, I awoke with a great
relief of spirits, very weak and weary indeed, but seeing
things of the right size and with their honest, everyday
appearance. I had a mind to eat, moreover; rose from
bed of my own movement; and as soon as we had
breakfasted, stepped to the entry of the Cage and sat
down outside in the top of the wood. It was a grey
day with a cool, mild air: and I sat in a dream all
morning, only disturbed by the passing by of Cluny's
scouts and servants coming with provisions and reports;
for as the coast was at that time clear, you might almost
say he held court openly.
When I returned, he and Alan had laid the cards
aside, and were questioning a gillie; and the chief turned
about and spoke to me in the Gaelic.
"I have no Gaelic, sir," said I.