Fiction > Book editions > London, 1886 - Kidnapped

THE   DEATH   OF  THE   RED   FOX.                    165
"Jouk* in here among the trees," said a voice, close
by.
Indeed, I scarce knew what I was doing, but I
obeyed; and as I did so, I heard the firelocks bang and
the balls whistle in the birches.
Just inside the shelter of the trees I found Alan
Breck standing, with a fishing-rod. He gave me no
salutation; indeed it was no time for civilities; only
"Come!" says he, and set off running along the side of
the mountain towards Balachulish; and I, like a sheep,
to follow him.
Now we ran among the birches; now stooping
behind low humps upon the mountain side; now crawling
on all fours among the heather. The pace was deadly;
my heart seemed bursting against my ribs; and 1
had neither time to think nor breath to speak with
Only I remember seeing with wonder, that Alan
every now and then would straighten himself to his
full height and look back ; and every time he did so,
there came a great far-away cheering and crying of
the soldiers.
Quarter of an hour later, Alan stopped, clapped down
flat in the heather, and turned to me.
"Now," said he, "it's earnest. Do as I do for your
life."
And at the same speed, but now with infinitely more
precaution, we traced back again across the mountain
side by the same way that we had come, only perhaps
* Duck.