Fiction > Book editions > London, 1886 - Kidnapped

I  TALK   WITH   ALAN   IN   THE   WOOD.               173
my surprise, Alan joined in and laughed as merrily as
myself.
Na, na," said he, "we're in the Hielands, David;
and when I tell ye to run, take my word and run. Nae
doubt it's a hard thing to skulk and starve in the
heather, but it's harder yet to lie shackled in a red-coat
prison."
I asked him whither we should flee; and as he told
me " to the Lowlands," I was a little better inclined to
go with him; for indeed I was growing impatient to
get back and have the upper-hand of my uncle. Besides,
Alan made so sure there would be no question of justice
in the matter, that I began to be afraid he might be
right. Of all deaths, I would truly like least to die by
the gallows; and the picture of that uncanny instru-
ment came into my head with extraordinary clearness
(as I had once seen it engraved at the top of a ped-
lar's ballad) and took away my appetite for courts of
justice.
"I'll chance it, Alan," said I.    "I'll go with you."
"But mind you," said Alan, "it's no small thing.
Ye maun lie bare and hard, and brook many an empty
belly. Your bed shall be the moorcock's, and your life
shall be like the hunted deer's, and ye shall sleep with
your hand upon your weapons. Ay, man, ye shall
taigle many a weary foot, or we get clear! I tell ye
this at the start, for it's a life that I ken well. But if
ye ask what other chance ye have, I answer: Nane.
Either take to the heather with me, or else hang."