prompt:
Chapter: Night fell as we were walking, and the clouds, which had broken up in
the afternoon, settled in and thickened, so that it fell, for the
season of the year, extremely dark. The way we went was over rough
mountainsides; and though Alan pushed on with an assured manner, I could
by no means see how he directed himself.

At last, about half-past ten of the clock, we came to the top of a brae,
and saw lights below us. It seemed a house door stood open and let out a
beam of fire and candle-light; and all round the house and steading
five or six persons were moving hurriedly about, each carrying a lighted
brand.

"James must have tint his wits," said Alan. "If this was the soldiers
instead of you and me, he would be in a bonny mess. But I dare say he'll
have a sentry on the road, and he would ken well enough no soldiers
would find the way that we came."

Hereupon he whistled three times, in a particular manner. It was strange
to see how, at the first sound of it, all the moving torches came to
a stand, as if the bearers were affrighted; and how, at the third, the
bustle began again as before.

Having thus set folks' minds at rest, we came down the brae, and were
met at the yard gate (for this place was like a well-doing farm) by
a tall, handsome man of more than fifty, who cried out to Alan in the
Gaelic.

"James Stewart," said Alan, "I will ask ye to speak in Scotch, for here
is a young gentleman with me that has nane of the other. This is him,"
he added, putting his arm through mine, "a young gentleman of the
Lowlands, and a laird in his country too, but I am thinking it will be
the better for his health if we give his name the go-by."

James of the Glens turned to me for a moment, and greeted me courteously
enough; the next he had turned to Alan.

"This has been a dreadful accident," he cried. "It will bring trouble on
the country." And he wrung his hands.

"Hoots!" said Alan, "ye must take the sour with the sweet, man. Colin
Roy is dead, and be thankful for that!"

"Ay" said James, "and by my troth, I wish he was alive again! It's all
very fine to blow and boast beforehand; but now it's done, Alan; and
who's to bear the wyte* of it? The accident fell out in Appin--mind ye
that, Alan; it's Appin that must pay; and I am a man that has a family."

     * Blame.

While this was going on I looked about me at the servants. Some were on
ladders, digging in the thatch of the house or the farm buildings,
from which they brought out guns, swords, and different weapons of
war; others carried them away; and by the sound of mattock blows from
somewhere farther down the brae, I suppose they buried them. Though they
were all so busy, there prevailed no kind of order in their efforts; men
struggled together for the same gun and ran into each other with their
burning torches; and James was continually turning about from his talk
with Alan, to cry out orders which were apparently never understood. The
faces in the torchlight were like those of people overborne with hurry
and panic; and though none spoke above his breath, their speech sounded
both anxious and angry.

It was about this time that a lassie came out of the house carrying
a pack or bundle; and it has often made me smile to think how Alan's
instinct awoke at the mere sight of it.

"What's that the lassie has?" he asked.

"We're just setting the house in order, Alan," said James, in his
frightened and somewhat fawning way. "They'll search Appin with candles,
and we must have all things straight. We're digging the bit guns and
swords into the moss, ye see; and these, I am thinking, will be your ain
French clothes. We'll be to bury them, I believe."

"Bury my French clothes!" cried Alan. "Troth, no!" And he laid hold upon
the packet and retired into the barn to shift himself, recommending me
in the meanwhile to his kinsman.

James carried me accordingly into the kitchen, and sat down with me at
table, smiling and talking at first in a very hospitable manner. But
presently the gloom returned upon him; he sat frowning and biting his
fingers; only remembered me from time to time; and then gave me but a
word or two and a poor smile, and back into his private terrors. His
wife sat by the fire and wept, with her face in her hands; his eldest
son was crouched upon the floor, running over a great mass of papers and
now and again setting one alight and burning it to the bitter end; all
the while a servant lass with a red face was rummaging about the room,
in a blind hurry of fear, and whimpering as she went; and every now and
again one of the men would thrust in his face from the yard, and cry for
orders.

At last James could keep his seat no longer, and begged my permission to
be so unmannerly as walk about. "I am but poor company altogether, sir,"
says he, "but I can think of nothing but this dreadful accident, and the
trouble it is like to bring upon quite innocent persons."

A little after he observed his son burning a paper which he thought
should have been kept; and at that his excitement burst out so that it
was painful to witness. He struck the lad repeatedly.

"Are you gone gyte?"* he cried. "Do you wish to hang your father?" and
forgetful of my presence, carried on at him a long time together in the
Gaelic, the young man answering nothing; only the wife, at the name of
hanging, throwing her apron over her face and sobbing out louder than
before.

     * Mad.

This was all wretched for a stranger like myself to hear and see; and
I was right glad when Alan returned, looking like himself in his fine
French clothes, though (to be sure) they were now grown almost too
battered and withered to deserve the name of fine. I was then taken out
in my turn by another of the sons, and given that change of clothing of
which I had stood so long in need, and a pair of Highland brogues made
of deer-leather, rather strange at first, but after a little practice
very easy to the feet.

By the time I came back Alan must have told his story; for it seemed
understood that I was to fly with him, and they were all busy upon our
equipment. They gave us each a sword and pistols, though I professed my
inability to use the former; and with these, and some ammunition, a bag
of oatmeal, an iron pan, and a bottle of right French brandy, we were
ready for the heather. Money, indeed, was lacking. I had about two
guineas left; Alan's belt having been despatched by another hand, that
trusty messenger had no more than seventeen-pence to his whole fortune;
and as for James, it appears he had brought himself so low with journeys
to Edinburgh and legal expenses on behalf of the tenants, that he could
only scrape together three-and-five-pence-halfpenny, the most of it in
coppers.

"This'll no do," said Alan.

"Ye must find a safe bit somewhere near by," said James, "and get word
sent to me. Ye see, ye'll have to get this business prettily off, Alan.
This is no time to be stayed for a guinea or two. They're sure to get
wind of ye, sure to seek ye, and by my way of it, sure to lay on ye the
wyte of this day's accident. If it falls on you, it falls on me that am
your near kinsman and harboured ye while ye were in the country. And if
it comes on me----" he paused, and bit his fingers, with a white face.
"It would be a painful thing for our friends if I was to hang," said he.

"It would be an ill day for Appin," says Alan.

"It's a day that sticks in my throat," said James. "O man, man, man--man
Alan! you and me have spoken like two fools!" he cried, striking his
hand upon the wall so that the house rang again.

"Well, and that's true, too," said Alan; "and my friend from the
Lowlands here" (nodding at me) "gave me a good word upon that head, if I
would only have listened to him."

"But see here," said James, returning to his former manner, "if they lay
me by the heels, Alan, it's then that you'll be needing the money. For
with all that I have said and that you have said, it will look very
black against the two of us; do ye mark that? Well, follow me out, and
ye'll, I'll see that I'll have to get a paper out against ye mysel';
have to offer a reward for ye; ay, will I! It's a sore thing to do
between such near friends; but if I get the dirdum* of this dreadful
accident, I'll have to fend for myself, man. Do ye see that?"

     * Blame.

He spoke with a pleading earnestness, taking Alan by the breast of the
coat.

"Ay" said Alan, "I see that."

"And ye'll have to be clear of the country, Alan--ay, and clear of
Scotland--you and your friend from the Lowlands, too. For I'll have to
paper your friend from the Lowlands. Ye see that, Alan--say that ye see
that!"

I thought Alan flushed a bit. "This is unco hard on me that brought him
here, James," said he, throwing his head back. "It's like making me a
traitor!"

"Now, Alan, man!" cried James. "Look things in the face! He'll be
papered anyway; Mungo Campbell'll be sure to paper him; what matters
if I paper him too? And then, Alan, I am a man that has a family." And
then, after a little pause on both sides, "And, Alan, it'll be a jury of
Campbells," said he.

"There's one thing," said Alan, musingly, "that naebody kens his name."

"Nor yet they shallnae, Alan! There's my hand on that," cried James, for
all the world as if he had really known my name and was foregoing some
advantage. "But just the habit he was in, and what he looked like, and
his age, and the like? I couldnae well do less."

"I wonder at your father's son," cried Alan, sternly. "Would ye sell the
lad with a gift? Would ye change his clothes and then betray him?"

"No, no, Alan," said James. "No, no: the habit he took off--the habit
Mungo saw him in." But I thought he seemed crestfallen; indeed, he was
clutching at every straw, and all the time, I dare say, saw the faces of
his hereditary foes on the bench, and in the jury-box, and the gallows
in the background.

"Well, sir," says Alan, turning to me, "what say ye to that? Ye are here
under the safeguard of my honour; and it's my part to see nothing done
but what shall please you."

"I have but one word to say," said I; "for to all this dispute I am a
perfect stranger. But the plain common-sense is to set the blame where
it belongs, and that is on the man who fired the shot. Paper him, as ye
call it, set the hunt on him; and let honest, innocent folk show their
faces in safety." But at this both Alan and James cried out in horror;
bidding me hold my tongue, for that was not to be thought of; and asking
me what the Camerons would think? (which confirmed me, it must have been
a Cameron from Mamore that did the act) and if I did not see that the
lad might be caught? "Ye havenae surely thought of that?" said they,
with such innocent earnestness, that my hands dropped at my side and I
despaired of argument.

"Very well, then," said I, "paper me, if you please, paper Alan, paper
King George! We're all three innocent, and that seems to be what's
wanted. But at least, sir," said I to James, recovering from my little
fit of annoyance, "I am Alan's friend, and if I can be helpful to
friends of his, I will not stumble at the risk."

I thought it best to put a fair face on my consent, for I saw Alan
troubled; and, besides (thinks I to myself), as soon as my back is
turned, they will paper me, as they call it, whether I consent or not.
But in this I saw I was wrong; for I had no sooner said the words, than
Mrs. Stewart leaped out of her chair, came running over to us, and wept
first upon my neck and then on Alan's, blessing God for our goodness to
her family.

"As for you, Alan, it was no more than your bounden duty," she said.
"But for this lad that has come here and seen us at our worst, and seen
the goodman fleeching like a suitor, him that by rights should give his
commands like any king--as for you, my lad," she says, "my heart is wae
not to have your name, but I have your face; and as long as my heart
beats under my bosom, I will keep it, and think of it, and bless it."
And with that she kissed me, and burst once more into such sobbing, that
I stood abashed.

"Hoot, hoot," said Alan, looking mighty silly. "The day comes unco soon
in this month of July; and to-morrow there'll be a fine to-do in Appin,
a fine riding of dragoons, and crying of 'Cruachan!'* and running of
red-coats; and it behoves you and me to the sooner be gone."

     * The rallying-word of the Campbells.

Thereupon we said farewell, and set out again, bending somewhat
eastwards, in a fine mild dark night, and over much the same broken
country as before.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: When it grew dark, the two climbed through the heather, coming out in view of a lit house. Many people scurried about but froze as Alan gave three sharp whistles to identify himself. When Alan and David reached the house, they were greeted by James Stewart of the Glens. Alan asked him to speak in English so David could understand. James immediately mentioned how bad of a day it had been. The murder would certainly be pinned on the people of Appin. Alan asked him to consider that the Red Fox was dead as well. But James exclaimed that he had a family and it would be better for him if Campbell were still alive. During this conversation, the confused scurrying behind them continued. James explained that they were burying the weapons and burning dangerous documents. When Alan learned that they planned to hide his French clothing, he ran off to retrieve it, handing David over to James. David and James entered the house and sat at a table, but James was too deep in thought to pay much attention to David. James' wife stood weeping and his son sat at the fire, burning select papers. Finally, James could no longer sit and began to pace. At one point, James ran to his son and struck him for trying to burn a paper which could help him. The situation was very awkward for David, who was glad to see Alan reappear in his tattered French garb. While David changed into better clothing, the matter was settled between Alan and James that he would run with Alan. They were given provisions, including arms, food, and money. Alan noted that the money would soon run out but James told him he should not wait for more but should send word once they had traveled awhile. He exclaimed that soldiers would soon ransack the entire area and the news that Alan had been present would surface. James would have to create a wanted poster with Alan's name and another with David's. He figured that the Red Fox's relatives would do the same and it was James's only hope of avoiding some of their retribution. Alan cried that he had brought David to this and now acted like a traitor. Alan asked David what he thought, who told them that they make posters of the man who had committed the crime, not of two innocent men. The Highlanders gasped, crying that they would not betray the Camerons. To David, this confirmed that the murderer was from the Cameron family. David gave up trying to use logic and agreed to help in any way he could. Mrs. Stewart ran over to Alan and David, thanking them both. She was especially grateful toward David because he was risking his life for strangers. She wept that she would always bless him. As day was approaching, Alan and David reentered the dark heather of the Highlands.


prompt:
Chapter: Sometimes we walked, sometimes ran; and as it drew on to morning, walked
ever the less and ran the more. Though, upon its face, that country
appeared to be a desert, yet there were huts and houses of the people,
of which we must have passed more than twenty, hidden in quiet places of
the hills. When we came to one of these, Alan would leave me in the way,
and go himself and rap upon the side of the house and speak awhile at
the window with some sleeper awakened. This was to pass the news; which,
in that country, was so much of a duty that Alan must pause to attend to
it even while fleeing for his life; and so well attended to by others,
that in more than half of the houses where we called they had heard
already of the murder. In the others, as well as I could make out
(standing back at a distance and hearing a strange tongue), the news was
received with more of consternation than surprise.

For all our hurry, day began to come in while we were still far from any
shelter. It found us in a prodigious valley, strewn with rocks and where
ran a foaming river. Wild mountains stood around it; there grew there
neither grass nor trees; and I have sometimes thought since then, that
it may have been the valley called Glencoe, where the massacre was in
the time of King William. But for the details of our itinerary, I am all
to seek; our way lying now by short cuts, now by great detours; our pace
being so hurried, our time of journeying usually by night; and the names
of such places as I asked and heard being in the Gaelic tongue and the
more easily forgotten.

The first peep of morning, then, showed us this horrible place, and I
could see Alan knit his brow.

"This is no fit place for you and me," he said. "This is a place they're
bound to watch."

And with that he ran harder than ever down to the water-side, in a part
where the river was split in two among three rocks. It went through with
a horrid thundering that made my belly quake; and there hung over the
lynn a little mist of spray. Alan looked neither to the right nor to the
left, but jumped clean upon the middle rock and fell there on his hands
and knees to check himself, for that rock was small and he might have
pitched over on the far side. I had scarce time to measure the distance
or to understand the peril before I had followed him, and he had caught
and stopped me.

So there we stood, side by side upon a small rock slippery with spray,
a far broader leap in front of us, and the river dinning upon all sides.
When I saw where I was, there came on me a deadly sickness of fear,
and I put my hand over my eyes. Alan took me and shook me; I saw he
was speaking, but the roaring of the falls and the trouble of my mind
prevented me from hearing; only I saw his face was red with anger, and
that he stamped upon the rock. The same look showed me the water raging
by, and the mist hanging in the air: and with that I covered my eyes
again and shuddered.

The next minute Alan had set the brandy bottle to my lips, and forced
me to drink about a gill, which sent the blood into my head again. Then,
putting his hands to his mouth, and his mouth to my ear, he shouted,
"Hang or drown!" and turning his back upon me, leaped over the farther
branch of the stream, and landed safe.

I was now alone upon the rock, which gave me the more room; the brandy
was singing in my ears; I had this good example fresh before me, and
just wit enough to see that if I did not leap at once, I should never
leap at all. I bent low on my knees and flung myself forth, with
that kind of anger of despair that has sometimes stood me in stead of
courage. Sure enough, it was but my hands that reached the full length;
these slipped, caught again, slipped again; and I was sliddering back
into the lynn, when Alan seized me, first by the hair, then by the
collar, and with a great strain dragged me into safety.

Never a word he said, but set off running again for his life, and I must
stagger to my feet and run after him. I had been weary before, but now
I was sick and bruised, and partly drunken with the brandy; I kept
stumbling as I ran, I had a stitch that came near to overmaster me; and
when at last Alan paused under a great rock that stood there among a
number of others, it was none too soon for David Balfour.

A great rock I have said; but by rights it was two rocks leaning
together at the top, both some twenty feet high, and at the first sight
inaccessible. Even Alan (though you may say he had as good as four
hands) failed twice in an attempt to climb them; and it was only at the
third trial, and then by standing on my shoulders and leaping up with
such force as I thought must have broken my collar-bone, that he secured
a lodgment. Once there, he let down his leathern girdle; and with the
aid of that and a pair of shallow footholds in the rock, I scrambled up
beside him.

Then I saw why we had come there; for the two rocks, being both somewhat
hollow on the top and sloping one to the other, made a kind of dish or
saucer, where as many as three or four men might have lain hidden.

All this while Alan had not said a word, and had run and climbed with
such a savage, silent frenzy of hurry, that I knew that he was in mortal
fear of some miscarriage. Even now we were on the rock he said nothing,
nor so much as relaxed the frowning look upon his face; but clapped flat
down, and keeping only one eye above the edge of our place of shelter
scouted all round the compass. The dawn had come quite clear; we could
see the stony sides of the valley, and its bottom, which was bestrewed
with rocks, and the river, which went from one side to another, and made
white falls; but nowhere the smoke of a house, nor any living creature
but some eagles screaming round a cliff.

Then at last Alan smiled.

"Ay" said he, "now we have a chance;" and then looking at me with some
amusement, "Ye're no very gleg* at the jumping," said he.

     * Brisk.

At this I suppose I coloured with mortification, for he added at once,
"Hoots! small blame to ye! To be feared of a thing and yet to do it, is
what makes the prettiest kind of a man. And then there was water there,
and water's a thing that dauntons even me. No, no," said Alan, "it's no
you that's to blame, it's me."

I asked him why.

"Why," said he, "I have proved myself a gomeral this night. For first
of all I take a wrong road, and that in my own country of Appin; so that
the day has caught us where we should never have been; and thanks to
that, we lie here in some danger and mair discomfort. And next (which is
the worst of the two, for a man that has been so much among the heather
as myself) I have come wanting a water-bottle, and here we lie for a
long summer's day with naething but neat spirit. Ye may think that a
small matter; but before it comes night, David, ye'll give me news of
it."

I was anxious to redeem my character, and offered, if he would pour out
the brandy, to run down and fill the bottle at the river.

"I wouldnae waste the good spirit either," says he. "It's been a good
friend to you this night; or in my poor opinion, ye would still be
cocking on yon stone. And what's mair," says he, "ye may have observed
(you that's a man of so much penetration) that Alan Breck Stewart was
perhaps walking quicker than his ordinar'."

"You!" I cried, "you were running fit to burst."

"Was I so?" said he. "Well, then, ye may depend upon it, there was nae
time to be lost. And now here is enough said; gang you to your sleep,
lad, and I'll watch."

Accordingly, I lay down to sleep; a little peaty earth had drifted in
between the top of the two rocks, and some bracken grew there, to be a
bed to me; the last thing I heard was still the crying of the eagles.

I dare say it would be nine in the morning when I was roughly awakened,
and found Alan's hand pressed upon my mouth.

"Wheesht!" he whispered. "Ye were snoring."

"Well," said I, surprised at his anxious and dark face, "and why not?"

He peered over the edge of the rock, and signed to me to do the like.

It was now high day, cloudless, and very hot. The valley was as clear as
in a picture. About half a mile up the water was a camp of red-coats; a
big fire blazed in their midst, at which some were cooking; and near by,
on the top of a rock about as high as ours, there stood a sentry, with
the sun sparkling on his arms. All the way down along the river-side
were posted other sentries; here near together, there widelier
scattered; some planted like the first, on places of command, some
on the ground level and marching and counter-marching, so as to meet
half-way. Higher up the glen, where the ground was more open, the chain
of posts was continued by horse-soldiers, whom we could see in the
distance riding to and fro. Lower down, the infantry continued; but
as the stream was suddenly swelled by the confluence of a considerable
burn, they were more widely set, and only watched the fords and
stepping-stones.

I took but one look at them, and ducked again into my place. It was
strange indeed to see this valley, which had lain so solitary in the
hour of dawn, bristling with arms and dotted with the red coats and
breeches.

"Ye see," said Alan, "this was what I was afraid of, Davie: that they
would watch the burn-side. They began to come in about two hours ago,
and, man! but ye're a grand hand at the sleeping! We're in a narrow
place. If they get up the sides of the hill, they could easy spy us with
a glass; but if they'll only keep in the foot of the valley, we'll do
yet. The posts are thinner down the water; and, come night, we'll try
our hand at getting by them."

"And what are we to do till night?" I asked.

"Lie here," says he, "and birstle."

That one good Scotch word, "birstle," was indeed the most of the story
of the day that we had now to pass. You are to remember that we lay on
the bare top of a rock, like scones upon a girdle; the sun beat upon us
cruelly; the rock grew so heated, a man could scarce endure the touch of
it; and the little patch of earth and fern, which kept cooler, was only
large enough for one at a time. We took turn about to lie on the naked
rock, which was indeed like the position of that saint that was martyred
on a gridiron; and it ran in my mind how strange it was, that in the
same climate and at only a few days' distance, I should have suffered
so cruelly, first from cold upon my island and now from heat upon this
rock.

All the while we had no water, only raw brandy for a drink, which was
worse than nothing; but we kept the bottle as cool as we could, burying
it in the earth, and got some relief by bathing our breasts and temples.

The soldiers kept stirring all day in the bottom of the valley, now
changing guard, now in patrolling parties hunting among the rocks. These
lay round in so great a number, that to look for men among them was like
looking for a needle in a bottle of hay; and being so hopeless a task,
it was gone about with the less care. Yet we could see the soldiers
pike their bayonets among the heather, which sent a cold thrill into my
vitals; and they would sometimes hang about our rock, so that we scarce
dared to breathe.

It was in this way that I first heard the right English speech; one
fellow as he went by actually clapping his hand upon the sunny face of
the rock on which we lay, and plucking it off again with an oath. "I
tell you it's 'ot," says he; and I was amazed at the clipping tones and
the odd sing-song in which he spoke, and no less at that strange trick
of dropping out the letter "h." To be sure, I had heard Ransome; but he
had taken his ways from all sorts of people, and spoke so imperfectly
at the best, that I set down the most of it to childishness. My surprise
was all the greater to hear that manner of speaking in the mouth of a
grown man; and indeed I have never grown used to it; nor yet altogether
with the English grammar, as perhaps a very critical eye might here and
there spy out even in these memoirs.

The tediousness and pain of these hours upon the rock grew only the
greater as the day went on; the rock getting still the hotter and the
sun fiercer. There were giddiness, and sickness, and sharp pangs like
rheumatism, to be supported. I minded then, and have often minded since,
on the lines in our Scotch psalm:--

     "The moon by night thee shall not smite,
     Nor yet the sun by day;"

and indeed it was only by God's blessing that we were neither of us
sun-smitten.

At last, about two, it was beyond men's bearing, and there was now
temptation to resist, as well as pain to thole. For the sun being now
got a little into the west, there came a patch of shade on the east side
of our rock, which was the side sheltered from the soldiers.

"As well one death as another," said Alan, and slipped over the edge and
dropped on the ground on the shadowy side.

I followed him at once, and instantly fell all my length, so weak was I
and so giddy with that long exposure. Here, then, we lay for an hour or
two, aching from head to foot, as weak as water, and lying quite naked
to the eye of any soldier who should have strolled that way. None came,
however, all passing by on the other side; so that our rock continued to
be our shield even in this new position.

Presently we began again to get a little strength; and as the soldiers
were now lying closer along the river-side, Alan proposed that we should
try a start. I was by this time afraid of but one thing in the world;
and that was to be set back upon the rock; anything else was welcome
to me; so we got ourselves at once in marching order, and began to slip
from rock to rock one after the other, now crawling flat on our bellies
in the shade, now making a run for it, heart in mouth.

The soldiers, having searched this side of the valley after a fashion,
and being perhaps somewhat sleepy with the sultriness of the afternoon,
had now laid by much of their vigilance, and stood dozing at their posts
or only kept a look-out along the banks of the river; so that in this
way, keeping down the valley and at the same time towards the mountains,
we drew steadily away from their neighbourhood. But the business was the
most wearing I had ever taken part in. A man had need of a hundred
eyes in every part of him, to keep concealed in that uneven country and
within cry of so many and scattered sentries. When we must pass an open
place, quickness was not all, but a swift judgment not only of the lie
of the whole country, but of the solidity of every stone on which we
must set foot; for the afternoon was now fallen so breathless that the
rolling of a pebble sounded abroad like a pistol shot, and would start
the echo calling among the hills and cliffs.

By sundown we had made some distance, even by our slow rate of progress,
though to be sure the sentry on the rock was still plainly in our view.
But now we came on something that put all fears out of season; and that
was a deep rushing burn, that tore down, in that part, to join the glen
river. At the sight of this we cast ourselves on the ground and plunged
head and shoulders in the water; and I cannot tell which was the more
pleasant, the great shock as the cool stream went over us, or the greed
with which we drank of it.

We lay there (for the banks hid us), drank again and again, bathed our
chests, let our wrists trail in the running water till they ached
with the chill; and at last, being wonderfully renewed, we got out the
meal-bag and made drammach in the iron pan. This, though it is but cold
water mingled with oatmeal, yet makes a good enough dish for a hungry
man; and where there are no means of making fire, or (as in our case)
good reason for not making one, it is the chief stand-by of those who
have taken to the heather.

As soon as the shadow of the night had fallen, we set forth again, at
first with the same caution, but presently with more boldness, standing
our full height and stepping out at a good pace of walking. The way
was very intricate, lying up the steep sides of mountains and along the
brows of cliffs; clouds had come in with the sunset, and the night was
dark and cool; so that I walked without much fatigue, but in continual
fear of falling and rolling down the mountains, and with no guess at our
direction.

The moon rose at last and found us still on the road; it was in its last
quarter, and was long beset with clouds; but after awhile shone out and
showed me many dark heads of mountains, and was reflected far underneath
us on the narrow arm of a sea-loch.

At this sight we both paused: I struck with wonder to find myself so
high and walking (as it seemed to me) upon clouds; Alan to make sure of
his direction.

Seemingly he was well pleased, and he must certainly have judged us
out of ear-shot of all our enemies; for throughout the rest of our
night-march he beguiled the way with whistling of many tunes, warlike,
merry, plaintive; reel tunes that made the foot go faster; tunes of my
own south country that made me fain to be home from my adventures; and
all these, on the great, dark, desert mountains, making company upon the
way.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: During the night, they moved quickly, mostly running as dawn approached. Alan would pause occasionally at a house in order to keep his neighbors updated. When the sun rose, the two were in the middle of a valley, quite visible. The valley appeared empty but Alan ran on, coming soon to a stream. He leapt onto a rock in the middle of the river, followed shortly by David. David looked at the wide berth between them and the other side and became overwhelmed by fear. Alan tried to encourage David but saw that he may never move. Forcing David to drink some brandy, Alan then lifted himself up and leapt across. David, tipsy from the liquor, knew he must jump immediately. He took a giant jump, but only reached the shore with his fingertips. Barely grasping on, David was finally pulled onto land by Alan. Alan instantly began running again. He slowed under a great rock, giving David a chance to breath. He then hitched himself up onto the rock by stepping on David's shoulders. From there, he was able to help David up. Once on top, David was able to see a sunken area in which the men could lie and be hidden from sight. Alan finally relaxed and teased David about his jumping abilities. He said however that he was to blame for their predicament. Because of Alan losing his way during the night, they had been in the open valley at dawn. Also, he had forgotten to bring water with them and had only the brandy. Alan told David that he could sleep first. Hours later, David was awakened abruptly by the feel of Alan's hand across his face. He had been snoring. David did not care but upon sitting up, noticed the large amount of red coated soldiers scattered across the valley. Because of the proximity of the soldiers, David and Alan were forced to lie flat upon the rocks as silently as possible. In the sunlight, the rock became so hot that only the little area of peat and moss on the rock stayed cool. Only one man could fit on this, so they took turns lying on the burning rock surface. The heat was unbearable and the hot rum did not help. Sometimes, the red coats came close enough to touch the rock. Finally, as the afternoon came, a shadow crept across the land and allowed the men to slip down behind the rock into the shade. As the soldiers moved closer to the riverside, Alan and David slipped away along the other side of the valley. It was slow moving but when the sun went down they were able to stand upright and travel faster. They reached a river and lay happily in it, drinking the water. Much refreshed, they continued until Alan was sure enough of their safety that he whistled tunes as they walked.


prompt:
Chapter: Early as day comes in the beginning of July, it was still dark when we
reached our destination, a cleft in the head of a great mountain, with a
water running through the midst, and upon the one hand a shallow cave
in a rock. Birches grew there in a thin, pretty wood, which a little
farther on was changed into a wood of pines. The burn was full of trout;
the wood of cushat-doves; on the open side of the mountain beyond,
whaups would be always whistling, and cuckoos were plentiful. From the
mouth of the cleft we looked down upon a part of Mamore, and on the
sea-loch that divides that country from Appin; and this from so great
a height as made it my continual wonder and pleasure to sit and behold
them.

The name of the cleft was the Heugh of Corrynakiegh; and although from
its height and being so near upon the sea, it was often beset with
clouds, yet it was on the whole a pleasant place, and the five days we
lived in it went happily.

We slept in the cave, making our bed of heather bushes which we cut for
that purpose, and covering ourselves with Alan's great-coat. There was a
low concealed place, in a turning of the glen, where we were so bold as
to make fire: so that we could warm ourselves when the clouds set in,
and cook hot porridge, and grill the little trouts that we caught with
our hands under the stones and overhanging banks of the burn. This was
indeed our chief pleasure and business; and not only to save our meal
against worse times, but with a rivalry that much amused us, we spent
a great part of our days at the water-side, stripped to the waist and
groping about or (as they say) guddling for these fish. The largest we
got might have been a quarter of a pound; but they were of good flesh
and flavour, and when broiled upon the coals, lacked only a little salt
to be delicious.

In any by-time Alan must teach me to use my sword, for my ignorance
had much distressed him; and I think besides, as I had sometimes
the upper-hand of him in the fishing, he was not sorry to turn to an
exercise where he had so much the upper-hand of me. He made it somewhat
more of a pain than need have been, for he stormed at me all through the
lessons in a very violent manner of scolding, and would push me so close
that I made sure he must run me through the body. I was often tempted
to turn tail, but held my ground for all that, and got some profit of
my lessons; if it was but to stand on guard with an assured countenance,
which is often all that is required. So, though I could never in the
least please my master, I was not altogether displeased with myself.

In the meanwhile, you are not to suppose that we neglected our chief
business, which was to get away.

"It will be many a long day," Alan said to me on our first morning,
"before the red-coats think upon seeking Corrynakiegh; so now we must
get word sent to James, and he must find the siller for us."

"And how shall we send that word?" says I. "We are here in a desert
place, which yet we dare not leave; and unless ye get the fowls of the
air to be your messengers, I see not what we shall be able to do."

"Ay?" said Alan. "Ye're a man of small contrivance, David."

Thereupon he fell in a muse, looking in the embers of the fire; and
presently, getting a piece of wood, he fashioned it in a cross, the four
ends of which he blackened on the coals. Then he looked at me a little
shyly.

"Could ye lend me my button?" says he. "It seems a strange thing to ask
a gift again, but I own I am laith to cut another."

I gave him the button; whereupon he strung it on a strip of his
great-coat which he had used to bind the cross; and tying in a little
sprig of birch and another of fir, he looked upon his work with
satisfaction.

"Now," said he, "there is a little clachan" (what is called a hamlet
in the English) "not very far from Corrynakiegh, and it has the name of
Koalisnacoan. There there are living many friends of mine whom I could
trust with my life, and some that I am no just so sure of. Ye see,
David, there will be money set upon our heads; James himsel' is to set
money on them; and as for the Campbells, they would never spare siller
where there was a Stewart to be hurt. If it was otherwise, I would go
down to Koalisnacoan whatever, and trust my life into these people's
hands as lightly as I would trust another with my glove."

"But being so?" said I.

"Being so," said he, "I would as lief they didnae see me. There's bad
folk everywhere, and what's far worse, weak ones. So when it comes dark
again, I will steal down into that clachan, and set this that I have
been making in the window of a good friend of mine, John Breck Maccoll,
a bouman* of Appin's."

     *A bouman is a tenant who takes stock from the landlord and
     shares with him the increase.

"With all my heart," says I; "and if he finds it, what is he to think?"

"Well," says Alan, "I wish he was a man of more penetration, for by my
troth I am afraid he will make little enough of it! But this is what
I have in my mind. This cross is something in the nature of the
crosstarrie, or fiery cross, which is the signal of gathering in our
clans; yet he will know well enough the clan is not to rise, for there
it is standing in his window, and no word with it. So he will say to
himsel', THE CLAN IS NOT TO RISE, BUT THERE IS SOMETHING. Then he will
see my button, and that was Duncan Stewart's. And then he will say to
himsel', THE SON OF DUNCAN IS IN THE HEATHER, AND HAS NEED OF ME."

"Well," said I, "it may be. But even supposing so, there is a good deal
of heather between here and the Forth."

"And that is a very true word," says Alan. "But then John Breck will see
the sprig of birch and the sprig of pine; and he will say to himsel' (if
he is a man of any penetration at all, which I misdoubt), ALAN WILL BE
LYING IN A WOOD WHICH IS BOTH OF PINES AND BIRCHES. Then he will think
to himsel', THAT IS NOT SO VERY RIFE HEREABOUT; and then he will come
and give us a look up in Corrynakiegh. And if he does not, David, the
devil may fly away with him, for what I care; for he will no be worth
the salt to his porridge."

"Eh, man," said I, drolling with him a little, "you're very ingenious!
But would it not be simpler for you to write him a few words in black
and white?"

"And that is an excellent observe, Mr. Balfour of Shaws," says Alan,
drolling with me; "and it would certainly be much simpler for me to
write to him, but it would be a sore job for John Breck to read it. He
would have to go to the school for two-three years; and it's possible we
might be wearied waiting on him."

So that night Alan carried down his fiery cross and set it in the
bouman's window. He was troubled when he came back; for the dogs had
barked and the folk run out from their houses; and he thought he had
heard a clatter of arms and seen a red-coat come to one of the doors. On
all accounts we lay the next day in the borders of the wood and kept a
close look-out, so that if it was John Breck that came we might be ready
to guide him, and if it was the red-coats we should have time to get
away.

About noon a man was to be spied, straggling up the open side of the
mountain in the sun, and looking round him as he came, from under his
hand. No sooner had Alan seen him than he whistled; the man turned and
came a little towards us: then Alan would give another "peep!" and the
man would come still nearer; and so by the sound of whistling, he was
guided to the spot where we lay.

He was a ragged, wild, bearded man, about forty, grossly disfigured with
the small pox, and looked both dull and savage. Although his English
was very bad and broken, yet Alan (according to his very handsome use,
whenever I was by) would suffer him to speak no Gaelic. Perhaps the
strange language made him appear more backward than he really was; but
I thought he had little good-will to serve us, and what he had was the
child of terror.

Alan would have had him carry a message to James; but the bouman would
hear of no message. "She was forget it," he said in his screaming voice;
and would either have a letter or wash his hands of us.

I thought Alan would be gravelled at that, for we lacked the means of
writing in that desert.

But he was a man of more resources than I knew; searched the wood until
he found the quill of a cushat-dove, which he shaped into a pen; made
himself a kind of ink with gunpowder from his horn and water from the
running stream; and tearing a corner from his French military commission
(which he carried in his pocket, like a talisman to keep him from the
gallows), he sat down and wrote as follows:

"DEAR KINSMAN,--Please send the money by the bearer to the place he kens
of.

"Your affectionate cousin,

"A. S."

This he intrusted to the bouman, who promised to make what manner of
speed he best could, and carried it off with him down the hill.

He was three full days gone, but about five in the evening of the third,
we heard a whistling in the wood, which Alan answered; and presently the
bouman came up the water-side, looking for us, right and left. He seemed
less sulky than before, and indeed he was no doubt well pleased to have
got to the end of such a dangerous commission.

He gave us the news of the country; that it was alive with red-coats;
that arms were being found, and poor folk brought in trouble daily; and
that James and some of his servants were already clapped in prison at
Fort William, under strong suspicion of complicity. It seemed it was
noised on all sides that Alan Breck had fired the shot; and there was a
bill issued for both him and me, with one hundred pounds reward.

This was all as bad as could be; and the little note the bouman had
carried us from Mrs. Stewart was of a miserable sadness. In it she
besought Alan not to let himself be captured, assuring him, if he fell
in the hands of the troops, both he and James were no better than dead
men. The money she had sent was all that she could beg or borrow, and
she prayed heaven we could be doing with it. Lastly, she said, she
enclosed us one of the bills in which we were described.

This we looked upon with great curiosity and not a little fear, partly
as a man may look in a mirror, partly as he might look into the barrel
of an enemy's gun to judge if it be truly aimed. Alan was advertised as
"a small, pock-marked, active man of thirty-five or thereby, dressed
in a feathered hat, a French side-coat of blue with silver buttons,
and lace a great deal tarnished, a red waistcoat and breeches of black,
shag;" and I as "a tall strong lad of about eighteen, wearing an
old blue coat, very ragged, an old Highland bonnet, a long homespun
waistcoat, blue breeches; his legs bare, low-country shoes, wanting the
toes; speaks like a Lowlander, and has no beard."

Alan was well enough pleased to see his finery so fully remembered and
set down; only when he came to the word tarnish, he looked upon his lace
like one a little mortified. As for myself, I thought I cut a miserable
figure in the bill; and yet was well enough pleased too, for since I had
changed these rags, the description had ceased to be a danger and become
a source of safety.

"Alan," said I, "you should change your clothes."

"Na, troth!" said Alan, "I have nae others. A fine sight I would be, if
I went back to France in a bonnet!"

This put a second reflection in my mind: that if I were to separate
from Alan and his tell-tale clothes I should be safe against arrest, and
might go openly about my business. Nor was this all; for suppose I was
arrested when I was alone, there was little against me; but suppose I
was taken in company with the reputed murderer, my case would begin to
be grave. For generosity's sake I dare not speak my mind upon this head;
but I thought of it none the less.

I thought of it all the more, too, when the bouman brought out a green
purse with four guineas in gold, and the best part of another in small
change. True, it was more than I had. But then Alan, with less than
five guineas, had to get as far as France; I, with my less than two, not
beyond Queensferry; so that taking things in their proportion, Alan's
society was not only a peril to my life, but a burden on my purse.

But there was no thought of the sort in the honest head of my companion.
He believed he was serving, helping, and protecting me. And what could I
do but hold my peace, and chafe, and take my chance of it?

"It's little enough," said Alan, putting the purse in his pocket, "but
it'll do my business. And now, John Breck, if ye will hand me over my
button, this gentleman and me will be for taking the road."

But the bouman, after feeling about in a hairy purse that hung in front
of him in the Highland manner (though he wore otherwise the Lowland
habit, with sea-trousers), began to roll his eyes strangely, and at last
said, "Her nainsel will loss it," meaning he thought he had lost it.

"What!" cried Alan, "you will lose my button, that was my father's
before me? Now I will tell you what is in my mind, John Breck: it is
in my mind this is the worst day's work that ever ye did since ye was
born."

And as Alan spoke, he set his hands on his knees and looked at the
bouman with a smiling mouth, and that dancing light in his eyes that
meant mischief to his enemies.

Perhaps the bouman was honest enough; perhaps he had meant to cheat and
then, finding himself alone with two of us in a desert place, cast back
to honesty as being safer; at least, and all at once, he seemed to find
that button and handed it to Alan.

"Well, and it is a good thing for the honour of the Maccolls," said
Alan, and then to me, "Here is my button back again, and I thank you for
parting with it, which is of a piece with all your friendships to me."
Then he took the warmest parting of the bouman. "For," says he, "ye have
done very well by me, and set your neck at a venture, and I will always
give you the name of a good man."

Lastly, the bouman took himself off by one way; and Alan and I (getting our
chattels together) struck into another to resume our flight.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: They walked in the dark uphill until they came to a cleft of a great mountain, named Corrynakiegh, where a cave lay in which they could hide. They remained in this spot for nearly five pleasant days. They could sneak to a spot near the river and make a fire to warm themselves and cook the fish they caught in the river. Alan attempted to teach David how to use a sword. He was never pleased with David's progress and David thought at times that he might run the sword through him. But, David was pleased with his ability to stand in against Alan. Soon, Alan mentioned that it would be awhile before the red coats found them. It was time to contact James and have him send money. David wondered how he would accomplish this contact but Alan was resourceful and made a cross out of wood in the tradition of the fiery cross, a signal for the gathering of his clan. He attached the silver button he had given David along with sprigs of birch and fir. Then, Alan explained that he would leave the cross outside the window of John Breck Maccol, a friend of his. John would recognize the button. Also, he would be able to discern that the two sprigs identified in which part of the heather Alan was hiding. David was skeptical but the plan worked and, shortly, the bouman approached the heather. Alan explained to him that he was needed as a messenger. The bouman required that Alan write his plea so Alan found a quill and, using gunpowder, wrote a message. Three days later the bouman reappeared with a message from Mrs. Stewart, detailing the events which had transpired. James and some servants were imprisoned as facilitators, wanted signs for Alan and David covered the country, and red coats were uncovering buried arms. She included a small sum of money, a blessing for their safety, and a copy of the wanted poster. Alan was pleased with the description of his French wear. David was also pleased because he had since changed his clothes and was thus safer. He suggested that Alan change his clothes but Alan refused. David began to think that he may be safer away alone because he would not be recognized. Still, he could not be disloyal. Alan asked the bouman for his button back but John Breck said he had lost it. Alan did not believe him and the button was returned to David.


prompt:
Chapter: Some seven hours' incessant, hard travelling brought us early in the
morning to the end of a range of mountains. In front of us there lay a
piece of low, broken, desert land, which we must now cross. The sun was
not long up, and shone straight in our eyes; a little, thin mist went up
from the face of the moorland like a smoke; so that (as Alan said) there
might have been twenty squadron of dragoons there and we none the wiser.

We sat down, therefore, in a howe of the hill-side till the mist should
have risen, and made ourselves a dish of drammach, and held a council of
war.

"David," said Alan, "this is the kittle bit. Shall we lie here till it
comes night, or shall we risk it, and stave on ahead?"

"Well," said I, "I am tired indeed, but I could walk as far again, if
that was all."

"Ay, but it isnae," said Alan, "nor yet the half. This is how we stand:
Appin's fair death to us. To the south it's all Campbells, and no to be
thought of. To the north; well, there's no muckle to be gained by going
north; neither for you, that wants to get to Queensferry, nor yet for
me, that wants to get to France. Well, then, we'll can strike east."

"East be it!" says I, quite cheerily; but I was thinking in to myself:
"O, man, if you would only take one point of the compass and let me take
any other, it would be the best for both of us."

"Well, then, east, ye see, we have the muirs," said Alan. "Once there,
David, it's mere pitch-and-toss. Out on yon bald, naked, flat place,
where can a body turn to? Let the red-coats come over a hill, they can
spy you miles away; and the sorrow's in their horses' heels, they would
soon ride you down. It's no good place, David; and I'm free to say, it's
worse by daylight than by dark."

"Alan," said I, "hear my way of it. Appin's death for us; we have none
too much money, nor yet meal; the longer they seek, the nearer they
may guess where we are; it's all a risk; and I give my word to go ahead
until we drop."

Alan was delighted. "There are whiles," said he, "when ye are altogether
too canny and Whiggish to be company for a gentleman like me; but there
come other whiles when ye show yoursel' a mettle spark; and it's then,
David, that I love ye like a brother."

The mist rose and died away, and showed us that country lying as waste
as the sea; only the moorfowl and the pewees crying upon it, and far
over to the east, a herd of deer, moving like dots. Much of it was red
with heather; much of the rest broken up with bogs and hags and peaty
pools; some had been burnt black in a heath fire; and in another place
there was quite a forest of dead firs, standing like skeletons. A
wearier-looking desert man never saw; but at least it was clear of
troops, which was our point.

We went down accordingly into the waste, and began to make our toilsome
and devious travel towards the eastern verge. There were the tops of
mountains all round (you are to remember) from whence we might be spied
at any moment; so it behoved us to keep in the hollow parts of the moor,
and when these turned aside from our direction to move upon its naked
face with infinite care. Sometimes, for half an hour together, we must
crawl from one heather bush to another, as hunters do when they are hard
upon the deer. It was a clear day again, with a blazing sun; the water
in the brandy bottle was soon gone; and altogether, if I had guessed
what it would be to crawl half the time upon my belly and to walk much
of the rest stooping nearly to the knees, I should certainly have held
back from such a killing enterprise.

Toiling and resting and toiling again, we wore away the morning; and
about noon lay down in a thick bush of heather to sleep. Alan took the
first watch; and it seemed to me I had scarce closed my eyes before I
was shaken up to take the second. We had no clock to go by; and Alan
stuck a sprig of heath in the ground to serve instead; so that as soon
as the shadow of the bush should fall so far to the east, I might know
to rouse him. But I was by this time so weary that I could have slept
twelve hours at a stretch; I had the taste of sleep in my throat; my
joints slept even when my mind was waking; the hot smell of the heather,
and the drone of the wild bees, were like possets to me; and every now
and again I would give a jump and find I had been dozing.

The last time I woke I seemed to come back from farther away, and
thought the sun had taken a great start in the heavens. I looked at the
sprig of heath, and at that I could have cried aloud: for I saw I had
betrayed my trust. My head was nearly turned with fear and shame; and at
what I saw, when I looked out around me on the moor, my heart was like
dying in my body. For sure enough, a body of horse-soldiers had come
down during my sleep, and were drawing near to us from the south-east,
spread out in the shape of a fan and riding their horses to and fro in
the deep parts of the heather.

When I waked Alan, he glanced first at the soldiers, then at the mark
and the position of the sun, and knitted his brows with a sudden, quick
look, both ugly and anxious, which was all the reproach I had of him.

"What are we to do now?" I asked.

"We'll have to play at being hares," said he. "Do ye see yon mountain?"
pointing to one on the north-eastern sky.

"Ay," said I.

"Well, then," says he, "let us strike for that. Its name is Ben Alder.
it is a wild, desert mountain full of hills and hollows, and if we can
win to it before the morn, we may do yet."

"But, Alan," cried I, "that will take us across the very coming of the
soldiers!"

"I ken that fine," said he; "but if we are driven back on Appin, we are
two dead men. So now, David man, be brisk!"

With that he began to run forward on his hands and knees with an
incredible quickness, as though it were his natural way of going. All
the time, too, he kept winding in and out in the lower parts of the
moorland where we were the best concealed. Some of these had been burned
or at least scathed with fire; and there rose in our faces (which were
close to the ground) a blinding, choking dust as fine as smoke. The
water was long out; and this posture of running on the hands and knees
brings an overmastering weakness and weariness, so that the joints ache
and the wrists faint under your weight.

Now and then, indeed, where was a big bush of heather, we lay awhile,
and panted, and putting aside the leaves, looked back at the dragoons.
They had not spied us, for they held straight on; a half-troop, I think,
covering about two miles of ground, and beating it mighty thoroughly as
they went. I had awakened just in time; a little later, and we must have
fled in front of them, instead of escaping on one side. Even as it was,
the least misfortune might betray us; and now and again, when a grouse
rose out of the heather with a clap of wings, we lay as still as the
dead and were afraid to breathe.

The aching and faintness of my body, the labouring of my heart, the
soreness of my hands, and the smarting of my throat and eyes in the
continual smoke of dust and ashes, had soon grown to be so unbearable
that I would gladly have given up. Nothing but the fear of Alan lent me
enough of a false kind of courage to continue. As for himself (and you
are to bear in mind that he was cumbered with a great-coat) he had first
turned crimson, but as time went on the redness began to be mingled
with patches of white; his breath cried and whistled as it came; and his
voice, when he whispered his observations in my ear during our halts,
sounded like nothing human. Yet he seemed in no way dashed in spirits,
nor did he at all abate in his activity, so that I was driven to marvel
at the man's endurance.

At length, in the first gloaming of the night, we heard a trumpet sound,
and looking back from among the heather, saw the troop beginning to
collect. A little after, they had built a fire and camped for the night,
about the middle of the waste.

At this I begged and besought that we might lie down and sleep.

"There shall be no sleep the night!" said Alan. "From now on, these
weary dragoons of yours will keep the crown of the muirland, and none
will get out of Appin but winged fowls. We got through in the nick
of time, and shall we jeopard what we've gained? Na, na, when the day
comes, it shall find you and me in a fast place on Ben Alder."

"Alan," I said, "it's not the want of will: it's the strength that I
want. If I could, I would; but as sure as I'm alive I cannot."

"Very well, then," said Alan. "I'll carry ye."

I looked to see if he were jesting; but no, the little man was in dead
earnest; and the sight of so much resolution shamed me.

"Lead away!" said I. "I'll follow."

He gave me one look as much as to say, "Well done, David!" and off he
set again at his top speed.

It grew cooler and even a little darker (but not much) with the coming
of the night. The sky was cloudless; it was still early in July, and
pretty far north; in the darkest part of that night, you would have
needed pretty good eyes to read, but for all that, I have often seen it
darker in a winter mid-day. Heavy dew fell and drenched the moor like
rain; and this refreshed me for a while. When we stopped to breathe,
and I had time to see all about me, the clearness and sweetness of
the night, the shapes of the hills like things asleep, and the fire
dwindling away behind us, like a bright spot in the midst of the moor,
anger would come upon me in a clap that I must still drag myself in
agony and eat the dust like a worm.

By what I have read in books, I think few that have held a pen were ever
really wearied, or they would write of it more strongly. I had no care
of my life, neither past nor future, and I scarce remembered there was
such a lad as David Balfour. I did not think of myself, but just of each
fresh step which I was sure would be my last, with despair--and of Alan,
who was the cause of it, with hatred. Alan was in the right trade as a
soldier; this is the officer's part to make men continue to do things,
they know not wherefore, and when, if the choice was offered, they would
lie down where they were and be killed. And I dare say I would have made
a good enough private; for in these last hours it never occurred to me
that I had any choice but just to obey as long as I was able, and die
obeying.

Day began to come in, after years, I thought; and by that time we were
past the greatest danger, and could walk upon our feet like men, instead
of crawling like brutes. But, dear heart have mercy! what a pair we must
have made, going double like old grandfathers, stumbling like babes,
and as white as dead folk. Never a word passed between us; each set his
mouth and kept his eyes in front of him, and lifted up his foot and set
it down again, like people lifting weights at a country play;* all the
while, with the moorfowl crying "peep!" in the heather, and the light
coming slowly clearer in the east.

     * Village fair.

I say Alan did as I did. Not that ever I looked at him, for I had enough
ado to keep my feet; but because it is plain he must have been as stupid
with weariness as myself, and looked as little where we were going, or
we should not have walked into an ambush like blind men.

It fell in this way. We were going down a heathery brae, Alan leading
and I following a pace or two behind, like a fiddler and his wife; when
upon a sudden the heather gave a rustle, three or four ragged men leaped
out, and the next moment we were lying on our backs, each with a dirk at
his throat.

I don't think I cared; the pain of this rough handling was quite
swallowed up by the pains of which I was already full; and I was too
glad to have stopped walking to mind about a dirk. I lay looking up in
the face of the man that held me; and I mind his face was black with the
sun, and his eyes very light, but I was not afraid of him. I heard Alan
and another whispering in the Gaelic; and what they said was all one to
me.

Then the dirks were put up, our weapons were taken away, and we were set
face to face, sitting in the heather.

"They are Cluny's men," said Alan. "We couldnae have fallen better.
We're just to bide here with these, which are his out-sentries, till
they can get word to the chief of my arrival."

Now Cluny Macpherson, the chief of the clan Vourich, had been one of the
leaders of the great rebellion six years before; there was a price on
his life; and I had supposed him long ago in France, with the rest of
the heads of that desperate party. Even tired as I was, the surprise of
what I heard half wakened me.

"What," I cried, "is Cluny still here?"

"Ay, is he so!" said Alan. "Still in his own country and kept by his own
clan. King George can do no more."

I think I would have asked farther, but Alan gave me the put-off. "I am
rather wearied," he said, "and I would like fine to get a sleep." And
without more words, he rolled on his face in a deep heather bush, and
seemed to sleep at once.

There was no such thing possible for me. You have heard grasshoppers
whirring in the grass in the summer time? Well, I had no sooner closed
my eyes, than my body, and above all my head, belly, and wrists, seemed
to be filled with whirring grasshoppers; and I must open my eyes again
at once, and tumble and toss, and sit up and lie down; and look at the
sky which dazzled me, or at Cluny's wild and dirty sentries, peering out
over the top of the brae and chattering to each other in the Gaelic.

That was all the rest I had, until the messenger returned; when, as it
appeared that Cluny would be glad to receive us, we must get once more
upon our feet and set forward. Alan was in excellent good spirits, much
refreshed by his sleep, very hungry, and looking pleasantly forward to
a dram and a dish of hot collops, of which, it seems, the messenger had
brought him word. For my part, it made me sick to hear of eating. I had
been dead-heavy before, and now I felt a kind of dreadful lightness,
which would not suffer me to walk. I drifted like a gossamer; the ground
seemed to me a cloud, the hills a feather-weight, the air to have a
current, like a running burn, which carried me to and fro. With all
that, a sort of horror of despair sat on my mind, so that I could have
wept at my own helplessness.

I saw Alan knitting his brows at me, and supposed it was in anger; and
that gave me a pang of light-headed fear, like what a child may have. I
remember, too, that I was smiling, and could not stop smiling, hard as
I tried; for I thought it was out of place at such a time. But my good
companion had nothing in his mind but kindness; and the next moment,
two of the gillies had me by the arms, and I began to be carried forward
with great swiftness (or so it appeared to me, although I dare say it
was slowly enough in truth), through a labyrinth of dreary glens and
hollows and into the heart of that dismal mountain of Ben Alder.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: By morning, after hours of traveling, Alan and David reached the end of the mountains. Beyond them, the moor let off a mist that draped the land, and any soldiers on it. Alan stopped and asked David if he wished to risk continuing or rest for the night. Alan described how dangers lay all around so that Eastward was the only path they could choose. However, going East would bring hardship too as the land was very flat and they would be easy to spot. David rationalized that they might as well keep going and Alan applauded his spirit. When the mist died away, David saw that the land was nearly barren and dead. As the sun rose and heat increased, they kept to their knees or bellies. At noon, they lay behind a thick bush to rest. Alan permitted David to sleep first. Too soon, David was awakened. Alan set a stick in the ground to judge the time and gave David a specific time to wake him up. Yet, David was still so fatigued that he dozed off. When he awoke, the shadow on the stick was past Alan's mark and soldiers had moved in. He woke Alan quickly. Alan's face showed anger but he said nothing to David except that they had better make a run for it before the soldiers got any closer. They ran for the large mountain nearby, Ben Alder. With no water left, smoke rising from the burnt ground, and their constant crawling about, David soon became extremely weary. He would have lain down had he not feared Alan and his fortitude. When they noticed the soldiers setting up camp for the night, David begged that they rest as well. Alan refused, exclaiming that they must reach the mountain. David did not know if he could continue so Alan offered to carry him. In disbelief, David agreed to keep moving. As he crept along in the light of night , David came to hate each step and the man who made him take it. He felt like a private blindly following his officer. When day dawned, they had traveled far enough from danger to stand upright. They were so exhausted, however, that they stumbled dumbly into an ambush. Alan was walking in the lead when suddenly three or four men jumped out, knocked them down, and held dirks to their throats. David was too tired to be scared. Alan spoke to them in Gaelic. The men were from the Vourich clan led by Cluny Macpherson, who had played a large role in 1746. While a messenger ran off, Alan slept but David could not rest because of the grasshoppers' chirping. When they had to move again, David looked so weary that two Cluny men carried him into Ben Alder.


prompt:
Chapter: We came at last to the foot of an exceeding steep wood, which scrambled
up a craggy hillside, and was crowned by a naked precipice.

"It's here," said one of the guides, and we struck up hill.

The trees clung upon the slope, like sailors on the shrouds of a ship,
and their trunks were like the rounds of a ladder, by which we mounted.

Quite at the top, and just before the rocky face of the cliff sprang
above the foliage, we found that strange house which was known in the
country as "Cluny's Cage." The trunks of several trees had been wattled
across, the intervals strengthened with stakes, and the ground behind
this barricade levelled up with earth to make the floor. A tree, which
grew out from the hillside, was the living centre-beam of the roof.
The walls were of wattle and covered with moss. The whole house had
something of an egg shape; and it half hung, half stood in that steep,
hillside thicket, like a wasp's nest in a green hawthorn.

Within, it was large enough to shelter five or six persons with some
comfort. A projection of the cliff had been cunningly employed to be the
fireplace; and the smoke rising against the face of the rock, and being
not dissimilar in colour, readily escaped notice from below.

This was but one of Cluny's hiding-places; he had caves, besides, and
underground chambers in several parts of his country; and following the
reports of his scouts, he moved from one to another as the soldiers
drew near or moved away. By this manner of living, and thanks to the
affection of his clan, he had not only stayed all this time in safety,
while so many others had fled or been taken and slain: but stayed four
or five years longer, and only went to France at last by the express
command of his master. There he soon died; and it is strange to reflect
that he may have regretted his Cage upon Ben Alder.

When we came to the door he was seated by his rock chimney, watching a
gillie about some cookery. He was mighty plainly habited, with a knitted
nightcap drawn over his ears, and smoked a foul cutty pipe. For all that
he had the manners of a king, and it was quite a sight to see him rise
out of his place to welcome us.

"Well, Mr. Stewart, come awa', sir!" said he, "and bring in your friend
that as yet I dinna ken the name of."

"And how is yourself, Cluny?" said Alan. "I hope ye do brawly, sir. And
I am proud to see ye, and to present to ye my friend the Laird of Shaws,
Mr. David Balfour."

Alan never referred to my estate without a touch of a sneer, when we
were alone; but with strangers, he rang the words out like a herald.

"Step in by, the both of ye, gentlemen," says Cluny. "I make ye welcome
to my house, which is a queer, rude place for certain, but one where I
have entertained a royal personage, Mr. Stewart--ye doubtless ken the
personage I have in my eye. We'll take a dram for luck, and as soon as
this handless man of mine has the collops ready, we'll dine and take a
hand at the cartes as gentlemen should. My life is a bit driegh," says
he, pouring out the brandy; "I see little company, and sit and twirl my
thumbs, and mind upon a great day that is gone by, and weary for another
great day that we all hope will be upon the road. And so here's a toast
to ye: The Restoration!"

Thereupon we all touched glasses and drank. I am sure I wished no ill
to King George; and if he had been there himself in proper person, it's
like he would have done as I did. No sooner had I taken out the drain
than I felt hugely better, and could look on and listen, still a little
mistily perhaps, but no longer with the same groundless horror and
distress of mind.

It was certainly a strange place, and we had a strange host. In his long
hiding, Cluny had grown to have all manner of precise habits, like those
of an old maid. He had a particular place, where no one else must sit;
the Cage was arranged in a particular way, which none must disturb;
cookery was one of his chief fancies, and even while he was greeting us
in, he kept an eye to the collops.

It appears, he sometimes visited or received visits from his wife and
one or two of his nearest friends, under the cover of night; but for the
more part lived quite alone, and communicated only with his sentinels
and the gillies that waited on him in the Cage. The first thing in the
morning, one of them, who was a barber, came and shaved him, and gave
him the news of the country, of which he was immoderately greedy. There
was no end to his questions; he put them as earnestly as a child; and
at some of the answers, laughed out of all bounds of reason, and would
break out again laughing at the mere memory, hours after the barber was
gone.

To be sure, there might have been a purpose in his questions; for
though he was thus sequestered, and like the other landed gentlemen of
Scotland, stripped by the late Act of Parliament of legal powers, he
still exercised a patriarchal justice in his clan. Disputes were brought
to him in his hiding-hole to be decided; and the men of his country,
who would have snapped their fingers at the Court of Session, laid
aside revenge and paid down money at the bare word of this forfeited and
hunted outlaw. When he was angered, which was often enough, he gave
his commands and breathed threats of punishment like any king; and his
gillies trembled and crouched away from him like children before a hasty
father. With each of them, as he entered, he ceremoniously shook hands,
both parties touching their bonnets at the same time in a military
manner. Altogether, I had a fair chance to see some of the inner
workings of a Highland clan; and this with a proscribed, fugitive chief;
his country conquered; the troops riding upon all sides in quest of
him, sometimes within a mile of where he lay; and when the least of the
ragged fellows whom he rated and threatened, could have made a fortune
by betraying him.

On that first day, as soon as the collops were ready, Cluny gave them
with his own hand a squeeze of a lemon (for he was well supplied with
luxuries) and bade us draw in to our meal.

"They," said he, meaning the collops, "are such as I gave his Royal
Highness in this very house; bating the lemon juice, for at that time we
were glad to get the meat and never fashed for kitchen.* Indeed, there
were mair dragoons than lemons in my country in the year forty-six."

     * Condiment.

I do not know if the collops were truly very good, but my heart rose
against the sight of them, and I could eat but little. All the while
Cluny entertained us with stories of Prince Charlie's stay in the Cage,
giving us the very words of the speakers, and rising from his place
to show us where they stood. By these, I gathered the Prince was a
gracious, spirited boy, like the son of a race of polite kings, but not
so wise as Solomon. I gathered, too, that while he was in the Cage, he
was often drunk; so the fault that has since, by all accounts, made such
a wreck of him, had even then begun to show itself.

We were no sooner done eating than Cluny brought out an old, thumbed,
greasy pack of cards, such as you may find in a mean inn; and his eyes
brightened in his face as he proposed that we should fall to playing.

Now this was one of the things I had been brought up to eschew like
disgrace; it being held by my father neither the part of a Christian
nor yet of a gentleman to set his own livelihood and fish for that of
others, on the cast of painted pasteboard. To be sure, I might have
pleaded my fatigue, which was excuse enough; but I thought it behoved
that I should bear a testimony. I must have got very red in the face,
but I spoke steadily, and told them I had no call to be a judge
of others, but for my own part, it was a matter in which I had no
clearness.

Cluny stopped mingling the cards. "What in deil's name is this?" says
he. "What kind of Whiggish, canting talk is this, for the house of Cluny
Macpherson?"

"I will put my hand in the fire for Mr. Balfour," says Alan. "He is an
honest and a mettle gentleman, and I would have ye bear in mind who says
it. I bear a king's name," says he, cocking his hat; "and I and any that
I call friend are company for the best. But the gentleman is tired, and
should sleep; if he has no mind to the cartes, it will never hinder you
and me. And I'm fit and willing, sir, to play ye any game that ye can
name."

"Sir," says Cluny, "in this poor house of mine I would have you to ken
that any gentleman may follow his pleasure. If your friend would like to
stand on his head, he is welcome. And if either he, or you, or any other
man, is not preceesely satisfied, I will be proud to step outside with
him."

I had no will that these two friends should cut their throats for my
sake.

"Sir," said I, "I am very wearied, as Alan says; and what's more, as
you are a man that likely has sons of your own, I may tell you it was a
promise to my father."

"Say nae mair, say nae mair," said Cluny, and pointed me to a bed of
heather in a corner of the Cage. For all that he was displeased enough,
looked at me askance, and grumbled when he looked. And indeed it must
be owned that both my scruples and the words in which I declared them,
smacked somewhat of the Covenanter, and were little in their place among
wild Highland Jacobites.

What with the brandy and the venison, a strange heaviness had come over
me; and I had scarce lain down upon the bed before I fell into a kind
of trance, in which I continued almost the whole time of our stay in the
Cage. Sometimes I was broad awake and understood what passed; sometimes
I only heard voices, or men snoring, like the voice of a silly river;
and the plaids upon the wall dwindled down and swelled out again, like
firelight shadows on the roof. I must sometimes have spoken or cried
out, for I remember I was now and then amazed at being answered; yet
I was conscious of no particular nightmare, only of a general, black,
abiding horror--a horror of the place I was in, and the bed I lay in,
and the plaids on the wall, and the voices, and the fire, and myself.

The barber-gillie, who was a doctor too, was called in to prescribe
for me; but as he spoke in the Gaelic, I understood not a word of his
opinion, and was too sick even to ask for a translation. I knew well
enough I was ill, and that was all I cared about.

I paid little heed while I lay in this poor pass. But Alan and Cluny
were most of the time at the cards, and I am clear that Alan must have
begun by winning; for I remember sitting up, and seeing them hard at it,
and a great glittering pile of as much as sixty or a hundred guineas on
the table. It looked strange enough, to see all this wealth in a nest
upon a cliff-side, wattled about growing trees. And even then, I
thought it seemed deep water for Alan to be riding, who had no better
battle-horse than a green purse and a matter of five pounds.

The luck, it seems, changed on the second day. About noon I was wakened
as usual for dinner, and as usual refused to eat, and was given a dram
with some bitter infusion which the barber had prescribed. The sun was
shining in at the open door of the Cage, and this dazzled and offended
me. Cluny sat at the table, biting the pack of cards. Alan had stooped
over the 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.

"O, 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.

Now since the card question, everything I said or did had the power of
annoying Cluny. "Your name has more sense than yourself, then," said he
angrily, "for it's good Gaelic. But the point is this. My scout reports
all clear in the south, and the question is, have ye the strength to
go?"

I saw cards on the table, but no gold; only a heap of little written
papers, and these all on Cluny's side. Alan, besides, had an odd
look, like a man not very well content; and I began to have a strong
misgiving.

"I do not know if I am as well as I should be," said I, looking at Alan;
"but the little money we have has a long way to carry us."

Alan took his under-lip into his mouth, and looked upon the ground.

"David," says he at last, "I've lost it; there's the naked truth."

"My money too?" said I.

"Your money too," says Alan, with a groan. "Ye shouldnae have given it
me. I'm daft when I get to the cartes."

"Hoot-toot! hoot-toot!" said Cluny. "It was all daffing; it's all
nonsense. Of course you'll have your money back again, and the double of
it, if ye'll make so free with me. It would be a singular thing for me
to keep it. It's not to be supposed that I would be any hindrance to
gentlemen in your situation; that would be a singular thing!" cries he,
and began to pull gold out of his pocket with a mighty red face.

Alan said nothing, only looked on the ground.

"Will you step to the door with me, sir?" said I.

Cluny said he would be very glad, and followed me readily enough, but he
looked flustered and put out.

"And now, sir," says I, "I must first acknowledge your generosity."

"Nonsensical nonsense!" cries Cluny. "Where's the generosity? This is
just a most unfortunate affair; but what would ye have me do--boxed
up in this bee-skep of a cage of mine--but just set my friends to the
cartes, when I can get them? And if they lose, of course, it's not to be
supposed----" And here he came to a pause.

"Yes," said I, "if they lose, you give them back their money; and if
they win, they carry away yours in their pouches! I have said before
that I grant your generosity; but to me, sir, it's a very painful thing
to be placed in this position."

There was a little silence, in which Cluny seemed always as if he was
about to speak, but said nothing. All the time he grew redder and redder
in the face.

"I am a young man," said I, "and I ask your advice. Advise me as you
would your son. My friend fairly lost his money, after having fairly
gained a far greater sum of yours; can I accept it back again? Would
that be the right part for me to play? Whatever I do, you can see for
yourself it must be hard upon a man of any pride."

"It's rather hard on me, too, Mr. Balfour," said Cluny, "and ye give
me very much the look of a man that has entrapped poor people to their
hurt. I wouldnae have my friends come to any house of mine to accept
affronts; no," he cried, with a sudden heat of anger, "nor yet to give
them!"

"And so you see, sir," said I, "there is something to be said upon my
side; and this gambling is a very poor employ for gentlefolks. But I am
still waiting your opinion."

I am sure if ever Cluny hated any man it was David Balfour. He looked
me all over with a warlike eye, and I saw the challenge at his lips.
But either my youth disarmed him, or perhaps his own sense of justice.
Certainly it was a mortifying matter for all concerned, and not least
Cluny; the more credit that he took it as he did.

"Mr. Balfour," said he, "I think you are too nice and covenanting, but
for all that you have the spirit of a very pretty gentleman. Upon my
honest word, ye may take this money--it's what I would tell my son--and
here's my hand along with it!"

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Cluny lived in a dwelling called the Cage because of its construction into the side of the mountain behind a wall of trees, dirt, and rocks. It was hidden from view like a wasp's nest. Cluny greeted them in drab, simple wear but with the poise of royalty. He kindly accepted the men into his home. The Cage was quite comfortable considering its elements and Cluny spoke of his entertaining Prince Charles of France at one point. The Cage was one of many hiding places in the countryside for Cluny. His clansmen still held him as an authority and protected him at all costs. Cluny was rather particular in his home due to the large amount of time he spent alone. He was visited by his wife or friends occasionally but not often. Daily, his servants gave him the news of the country which he devoured greedily. David was interested in seeing the inner workings of a Highland clan, though he certainly felt out of place as well. Given some luxuries, Cluny squeezed lemon on the venison he served to David and Alan. Worn out, David could eat very little. After finishing the meal, Cluny took out an old deck of cards. David could have used his fatigue as an excuse but felt like he should speak his mind. He told them that he did not think it was right to play cards and so, he would rather not. The chief gasped but Alan tried to explain that though David was a Whig, he was a good boy and should be allowed to rest. David confirmed his exhaustion and explained that he was following his father's wishes. Cluny agreed but often looked his way in disgust. David was shown to a bed of heather. As soon as he lay upon it, he fell into a feverish sleep. He came to several times during the next couple of days but remembered little and barely gained consciousness. He did notice that Cluny and Alan played cards for several days and that Alan appeared to be losing after the second day. When Alan asked him for money, he was too ill to refuse. On the third day, David finally came to his senses and was able to rise and step outside. Cluny spoke to him in Gaelic when he returned. David had to admit he did not understand. Annoyed, Cluny asked if he had the strength to move on. David mentioned their little money and Alan was forced to admit that he had lost both of their purses. The chief mumbled that he would certainly not take their money. Alan looked down in humiliation. David took the chief aside and asked what he should do since neither option allowed any of the three to retain his pride. David voiced that he had been correct in thinking that gambling was dangerous. Though angered, Cluny returned the money to David and shook his hand.