CHAPTER XI.

SWORN TO SHOOT AT SIGHT--AN ADVENTURE ON THE ROAD--"PLEASE, Sir, ARE YOU THE COLONEL?"--"WE'LL CALL YOU JOHN."

When the faithful little gillie returned to the cave that night, he brought with him a kindly letter of advice from the dominie. He had seen the soldiers that very forenoon, and so incensed were they, that they had sworn to shoot my grandfather on sight, without further parley. And there was no doubt they meant to carry this awful threat into execution.

"Now, dear boy," the latter continued, "I advise you to make an attempt to leave the place as soon as possible. By day will be safest, for then the soldiers are there in the forest. At night they keep watch around the houses. If you get safely to Inverness, go to see a man of law called John Chisholm. Take this letter with you, and he'll receive you kindly, and tell you what is best for you to do."

"My daughter Rachel encloses a little note for you. So sorry that neither of us can see you, but it would not be safe. Good-bye, and the Lord be with you."

Next day the gillie came at eleven o'clock.

"The soldiers," he said, "are scouring the forest. Now will be your chance."

A short time after this Ian entered his father's house and took a hurried farewell of all. A most affecting farewell it was, and many were the tears that were shed.

Even poor Dash knew that the parting had come, and sadly woe-begone he looked.

"Be kind to dear Dash, sister," were among the last words the lad said.

Then he hurried away from the home which it would be many and many a long year before he should see again--if ever.

Rachel's note was to my grandfather a very precious one, though simple:

"DEAR IAN,--Fly quickly, O, fly. They will shoot you dead if you don't. With fond love and prayers I send you a four-bladed clover.

"But, dear Ian, trust more in God than even the four-bladed clover.--Your little RACHEL. Amen! so let it be."

My grandfather put the letter in his bosom and hurried on.

At Beauly he was well known, but not a soul would have thought of giving him away.

He went in to thank Ellen for assisting him to escape, and stayed and chatted quite a long time.

So safe did he feel, that he must even visit the little old fisherman on the border of the bay, and bid him and his daughter a long farewell.

A little farther on he overtook three Forty-second soldiers. He would have darted into the woods, but he sighted them all at once on rounding the bend of the road, and one happening to look round sighted him.

With country courtesy, they waited till he came up, and his heart beat high and uneasily as he joined them.

Would they recognise him and make him prisoner? That was the thought uppermost in his mind. But his fears were for a time set to rest, till one of them began to laugh.

"Can't help thinking how neatly Sergeant McGregor was done," he said in Gaelic.

Then the others laughed, and one turning round to Ian said, "Do you come from Beauly?"

"From far beyond," replied grandfather evasively. "But," he added, "I didn't stop long enough to get any news."

"Ah, well, you know, the sergeant and a file were after a deserter, not much older, maybe, than yourself."

My grandfather felt his colour come and go, while his heart thumped wildly against his ribs.

"Why," cried another soldier, "by all descriptions, this young fellow would pass for the deserter."

Then all laughed, and Ian laughed too, as if he enjoyed the joke immensely. But he found courage to say--and he spoke the truth when he said it--

"I've never been a soldier yet, but if I were I should stick to my colours."

"Good, my boy, good, and it's a soldier you ought to be."

My grandfather knew now the crisis had passed, so he said to the first speaker:

"Tell me the story, soldier."

"O, McGregor of ours and his men had been watching the woods for, maybe, a month. But they collared their man at last and led him down to the Charlie Stuart Inn, at Beauly, and so they all marched inside. Well, the deserter was just rolling in money that his father had given him, for they do say he is a near connection of the Lovat family. So he ordered a splendid supper, and he made all the three of them so full with one thing or another, that before two in the morning they went comfortably to bed beneath the table.

"Then," continued the soldier, "the young rascal of a deserter coolly blackened all their faces till you couldn't have told them from negroes, rammed their muskets up the chimney, with their butt-ends stuck in the fire."

"Didn't they go off?" said Ian.

"I tell you they were all asleep under the table."

"But the guns, I mean."

"Well, I suppose they did after a bit, but they didn't waken the men."

"And the deserter went off, of course?"

"Yes, and he's safe in the woods now."

"Is he, indeed?" said grandfather, hardly able to suppress a smile.

"It will never be let down on McGregor," added the soldier. "It was the girl Ellen who waked them next morning, and when they looked at each other and found they were all black men, I--I--ha, ha, ha, I would have given worlds to have seen the fun."

And talking thus cheerfully they reached Inverness, but my grandfather was not at all sorry when at last they bade him good-bye and went off.

* * * * *

John Chisholm was a florid-faced, white-haired, very fat man.

But good-hearted, and reputed the cleverest lawyer in the capital of the Highlands.

He bade my sixteen-year-old grandfather be seated.

Then he mounted a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles and quietly perused the dominie's letter.

After this he looked at my grandfather over his glasses and said:

"Humph!"

Well, that expression "Humph!" isn't even here or there.

"I assure you, my boy, I'm a sort of sorry for you. You have been completely sold, or rather bought, and there is only one thing I can advise."

"Yes, sir?"

"Are you averse to becoming a soldier?"

"O, no, indeed, sir; I think I'd rather like going to the wars.

"But," he added manfully, "I'd rather be shot than fight under my rebel-cousin, Fraser."

"Bravo! Well, go and be shot like a good boy."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand, sir."

"Don't you? Why, go straight away to Fort George, where there is a recruiting-squad of that grand old regiment, the 1st Royals, stationed, and enlist. Nothing can be more simple."

My grandfather thanked him profusely, and took his leave.

That night he slept in his old bed beneath Mr. Craig's counter. Mr. Craig, his wife, and the cat were all delighted to see him, and gave him quite a hearty welcome, and when they parted next day, the old lady took what she called an eternal leave of him.

"We'll never see you more, poor boy," she said.

And she never did.

The recruiting-sergeant of the 1st Royals was a most dignified and dashing soldier, with a long powdered cue dangling over the upper part of his spine, and covering his scarlet jacket with a layer of snow-white dust. He was in the square when my grandfather entered the gloomy portals of this renowned fort, and was pointed out to him by a sentry.

"That is the sergeant with all the ribbons a-fluttering from his cap."

Ian approached somewhat timidly.

He saluted, and being the first military salute ever he had made, I dare say it was rather an awkward one.

"Well, my man, what can I do for you?" said the gallant non-commissioned officer, bending as far as his high stock would permit him to do.

"Please, sir, are you the colonel?"

The sergeant laughed, and a smile rippled over the faces of a few men near by.

"No, lad, I'm only a general. The colonel has had a shave, and gone to bed for fear of catching cold after it. Perhaps I can do for the time being. What is your business?"

"I've come to enlist, if you please."

"Enlist! Why you do the grand old regiment an honour which it will not soon forget. But come along, lad; I must, have my little joke. Follow me, and I'll make a man of you before you are five minutes older."

He led the way in through a narrow passage, and my grandfather soon found himself in a long narrow room, with a ceiling so low that he could have touched it. There were a table, some forms, and a chair in it, and at the former the smart sergeant sat down, and pulled towards him some official-looking paper, an ink-bottle, and a huge quill pen.

"Now, then, I want to know something about you."

"Well, sir, my father--

"O, come, come, I don't want you to go back to Noah altogether. Give me your name, age, &c., place of birth, and everything else."

My grandfather did so. The sergeant wrote all down. Then he shoved a shilling across the table.

"I beg your pardon, sir, but I don't think I should take that."

"Not take the King's money?"

"No, sir; I got the King's shilling before, and Dash and I threw it into the sea."

The sergeant dropped his quill pen as suddenly as if he had been shot.

"What!" he cried, "you've enlisted before?"

"It was not enlistment, sir, it was fraud; my lawyer, Mr. Chisholm, told me so."

"Come," said the sergeant, "this gets interesting. A boy who has a lawyer should be an ensign to begin with, to say the least of it. Tell me all about it, boy."

Then he got the whole story, and laughed heartily at it.

"You'll take this shilling, nevertheless, my boy, and I've no doubt you'll pass the doctors all right. But," he added, "as you seem to have some qualms of conscience--a very awkward possession for a soldier to begin life on--here is another shilling out of my own purse, to send back in a letter to your pretty cousin, whose nose I'd dearly like to pull.

"You may write to him here, and I'll sign it.

"Tell him you return his coin, and that his kilted warriors needn't knock about the damp woods any longer looking for you, as you now belong to the oldest regiment in Britain, and the finest that ever crossed bayonets with a warlike foe."

Ian did as he was told.

"How beautifully you write, boy!" the sergeant said, as he peeped over his shoulder. "It's my opinion you'll soon be an orderly."

My grandfather smiled, though he had not the faintest notion what was meant by an orderly.

"My mother always thought me very orderly, sir."

Again the facetious sergeant laughed.

"Well, now," he said, "I'll put you in charge of a soldier who will see you all right, and put you up to getting your kit and everything else.

"But one thing I must tell you, and I would tell you a good many if I had time. You must always do your duty briskly, heartily, and pleasantly, and be obedient to orders. We've all got to do that, lad. You will only be a small cog in a mighty great wheel. That wheel is the British Army, that rolls round the world and crushes everything that dares to oppose it.

"Your name is Ian?"

"Yes, sir."

"And the English is 'John.' Keep the Ian till you go back home again--if ever you do. We'll call you John. And now, my brave lad, I shake hands with

"PRIVATE JOHN ROBERTSON, OF THE 1ST ROYALS."

Book II.

Off to Join his Regiment

Book II

_OFF TO JOIN HIS REGIMENT_