I SUFFER THE HEATHEN'S RAGE
As I stumbled through the moonlit forest I heard Ringan's tunes ever
crooning among the trees. First it was the old mad march of "Bundle and
go," which the pipers play when the clans are rising. Then it changed
to the lilt of "Colin's Cattle," which is an air that the fairies made,
and sung in the ear of a shepherd who fell asleep in one of their holy
places. And then it lost all mortal form, and became a thing as faint
as the wind in the tree-tops or the humming of bees in clover. My weary
legs stepped out to this wizard music, and the spell of it lulled my
fevered thoughts into the dull patience of the desperate.
At an open space where I could see the sky I tried to take further
bearings. I must move south-east by east, and in time I must come to
Lawrence. I do not think I had any hope of getting there, for I knew
that long ere this the man who escaped must have returned with others,
and that now they would be hot on my trail. What could one lad do in a
wide woodland against the cunningest trackers on earth? But Ringan had
praised my courage, and I could not fail him. I should go on till I
died, and I did not think that would be very long. My pistols,
re-loaded, pressed against my side, and Ringan's sword swung by my
thigh.
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