CHAPTER VII. – DONE BENEATH THE STARS

The delight of Nadia and her brother at the appearance of Dick and his companions was great. Buckhart’s face was crimson as he pressed the girl’s hand, and she seemed somewhat confused. Dick she met with perfect frankness.

When the greetings were over and they had warmed themselves at the fire, the old professor went out and gazed long at Lochleven, over the wind-ruffled bosom of which the night was creeping.

“To-morrow,” he said, “I will feast my eyes on Queen Mary’s prison. What a grand thing to be here on this romantic spot! Ah, those old days when men fought and bled and died for their country!”

In spite of the appearance of Miguel Bunol, it was a jolly party that gathered about Widow Myles’ table that night at supper time. Nadia had recovered her high spirits and was gay and vivacious, while her brother forgot for the time being the struggle against appetite that he had been making for the last few days and was the smiling, courtly, jolly young gentleman nature intended him to be.

Widow Myles herself sat at the head of the table, beaming on her guests. She had a face like a withered russet apple, and one knew at a glance that a generous, kindly old heart beat in her bosom. Naturally affable, the presence of so many guests at that season made her doubly so.

Brad had been placed in a chair opposite Nadia, much to his satisfaction, as it gave him an opportunity to watch her mobile, changing features. It seemed that each passing minute revealed for him some new and fresh attractiveness in the charming Chicago girl. He had been badly smitten before, but during that supper at the Ben Cleuch he fell head-over-heels in love with her. Boy love it was, perhaps, but none the less sincere. It might not last, but even though time brought a change, it would ever be a pleasant memory.

Aaron waited on the table. At this he was very deft, seeming to know precisely what was wanted at the lifting of the widow’s finger.

“A peculiar servant you have, Mrs. Myles,” observed Dick, at a time when Aaron was absent from the room.

“Ay,” nodded the widow, her cap ruffles dancing. “Aaron is alwa’ faithful.”

“Has he been with you long?”

“Five year this snowfall, poor lad. He came trudgin’ to my door, barefoot, near dead wi’ cauld, near perisht wi’ hunger. I took him i’ th’ house an’ gied him bread an’ clauthes. I warmed his bones, an’ sin’ that day he has been wi’ me.”

“Is he trustworthy?”

“I wad trust him wi’ my life,” was her answer. “Th’ poor lad is not over bright, an’ yet he’s na fool. Have na fear he will molest your valuables. He is th’ watchdog o’ Ben Cleuch.”

Aaron returning at this minute, the conversation turned into another channel.

The old professor could not get over his enthusiasm at being there in that quaint little Scottish country inn.

“To-morrow, boys!” he cried – “to-morrow shall be a great day. We’ll visit Queen Mary’s prison.”

“Let’s all go,” proposed Dick.

“That’s the thing!” exclaimed Brad eagerly. “We’ll make a grand excursion to the old castle. Will you do it, Nad – er – ah – Miss Budthorne?”

“I think it would be fine,” she answered. “What do you say, Dunbar?”

“I’m agreeable,” said Budthorne, sipping at his tea. “I’ve been keeping too close in the house. Perhaps if I get out I’ll feel much better.”

Out of the corner of one small eye Aaron watched Budthorne drink the tea.

“Then it’s settled,” said Dick. “I suppose we can get a boat near here. I don’t fancy there are any of the old-time Scottish outlaws around here now, Mrs. Myles?”

“Na, unless ye ma’ ca’ Rob MacLane one,” was her answer.

“Who is Rob MacLane?”

“He i’ th’ Auld Nick’s own!” was the answer. “A bad egg, if e’er there were one. I’ these law-abidin’ times he minds na law, an’ he fears nane – man nor de’il. It’s a’ things he has done but murder, an’ I think soon to hear he has done that.”

“Well, well! this is interesting, indeed!” cried the professor. “Why don’t they arrest him and put him in jail?”

“Arrist Rob MacLane!” cried the widow. “It’s richt plain ye ha’ na heard o’ him! He i’ strang as twenty men, an’ na officer daurs to go take him. Twa o’ them tried it once, an’ wi’ his bare hands he near beat them both to death. One didna get over that beatin’ till the day he died.”

“He would have made a fine outlaw in the old days,” laughed Dick. “Where does this ruffian live?”

“Na man kens. Mayhap to-day he be here, to-morrow he is i’ th’ mountains far awa’.”

“How does he live?”

“He takes a’ he wants, an’ no man says him nay. Were he to come here the nicht, I’d gi’ him a’ he asked an’ be thankit for my life when he left.”

“Well, I’m getting some interested in Mr. MacLane!” exclaimed Buckhart. “I don’t suppose he is around here now?”

“I canna tell. He comes an’ goes like the wind. He may be outside th’ door this minute, or he may be i’ Sutherland.”

Dunbar Budthorne was doing his best to repress a peculiar sensation that was creeping over him. He wanted something, but for the time he could not imagine what it was. Of a sudden he knew, and he turned pale as the truth dawned upon him. He was ready to give anything or do anything for a drink of liquor.

While the others chatted on this restlessness and craving grew on Budthorne. Finally, politely asking to be excused and saying he was going to his room, he rose from the table.

His sister gave him a glance of questioning apprehension, but he smiled on her reassuringly.

“You’re not ill, Dunbar?” she asked.

“Never felt better in my life,” he answered, and her mind was relieved.

Outside the dining-room door he encountered Aaron, who had left the room ahead of him.

“I’ there a’thing I could gi’ ye, sir?” inquired Aaron, with the utmost deference and solicitude.

“No, nothing,” answered Budthorne, and started to pass on.

Suddenly he paused and looked over his shoulder at Aaron, dimly seen by the faint light in the hall.

“Wait,” he said in a low tone. “Come here a moment, Aaron.”

The serving man stepped noiselessly toward him.

“Aaron, I’m not feeling quite right.”

“Ay, sir; I thought ye lookt a wee disturbed. I hope ye are na ill?”

“I’m afraid I shall be unless I can get something to ward off the attack. Do you know if there is whisky or liquor of any sort in the place?”

Aaron seemed alarmed.

“I no hae anything to do wi’ it,” he hastily declared. “The widow alwa’ keeps a wee bit i’ a bottle, but I hae na richt to touch it, sir.”

Eagerly, almost fiercely, Budthorne grasped the little man by his bony wrist.

“I must have something of the sort!” he breathed, huskily. “Aaron, you must get me some of the contents of that bottle!”

“I canna do it,” declared the serving man, as if in great alarm. “Were I to touch it th’ widow wud be sair mad wi’ me.”

“You need not let her know it. She’ll never miss a little – enough for one good drink.”

Still Aaron seemed alarmed.

“I ha’ been wi’ her five year an’ no’ once ha’ I failed to mind her biddin’,” he said weakly.

“I’ll pay you – I’ll pay you well,” said Budthorne. “See, Aaron, here is money. Take it. Bring me enough for a drink from that bottle.”

He pressed the money into the hand of the little man, who seemed on the point of refusing it.

“She wi’ find it out, sir.”

“How? I’ll never tell her.”

“Ye sw’ar it?”

“Yes.”

“Na matter wh’ may hap, ye sw’ar ye willna tell Aaron gi’ ye one drop from that bottle?”

“I swear it! Hurry up, man, or I’ll explode for the want of a drink.”

“I canna gi’ it to ye here.”

“In my room, then?”

“Na! na!”

“Then where?”

“Ye maun meet me back o’ th’ house.”

“Anywhere, so that I get the drink. How can I do it? Hurry up!”

“Ye maun go out by th’ front dure; I’ll go out by th’ back. Step round the corner an’ find me at th’ back.”

“All right. But don’t lose time about it.”

“Have na fear.”

“Bring a big drink – a stiff drink. The longer I am without it the more I want.”

A few moments later Budthorne left the cottage by the front door. There was no moon, but millions of bright stars gleamed in the dome of heaven. The wind had fallen with the coming of night, but although it did not feel as cold, the temperature was much lower. To the east, close at hand, slumbered Lochleven; to the north, farther removed, rose the rugged Ochill Hills.

It was a night of peace and repose, with no suggestion of danger lurking near.

Within the cottage the merry party chatted and laughed about the supper table. Not until Budthorne had been absent some time did Nadia think of him again; but at last she began to worry why he did not return.

Finally she rose from the table, saying she would see what was detaining him.

“He has not been quite well of late,” she explained. “Of course I’m foolish to worry about him, but I can’t help it. He must be in his room. I’ll return in a few moments.”

She did return in a few moments, a frightened look on her pale face.

“He’s gone!” she said. “I can’t find him!”

At this moment the door leading to the kitchen was flung open by a heavy body striking against it, and into the dining room staggered Aaron, his clothes torn, his face pale, and a streak of blood across one temple.

At sight of him the others sprang up.

“What has happened?” cried Dick.

“I canna tell!” moaned Aaron. “Th’ guid young man asked me to meet him at th’ back o’ th’ house. When I did so an’ we were speakin’ together a band o’ men wi’ masks ower their faces sprang out upon us. One o’ them grappled wi’ me. I tried to tear fra him, an’ thin I saw all th’ stars o’ heaven fa’ on my haid. Next I found mysel’ strecht on th’ ground an’ th’ stars back i’ their places; but th’ young man were gone an’ th’ men ha vanished.”

Having made this explanation, Aaron fell heavily to the floor.

Nadia promptly fainted in Brad Buckhart’s arms. The old professor threw up his thin hands and looked quite helpless. The widow assisted Buckhart to take the senseless girl into the sitting room and place her on the couch near the crackling, open fire.

Dick Merriwell lost not a moment in kneeling beside Aaron and examining his injury. He found a very slight cut in the hair near the temple.

“Stop that groaning!” he sternly commanded. “You’re not even badly hurt; you’re scarcely scratched.”

“Na! na!” gasped the little man. “I think I maun dee!”

“You won’t die from anything that has happened to you to-night. Get up! Stop this foolishness! Why, I can’t even find a bump on your head, and there should be a swelling there if you were hit so frightfully hard. Sit up!”

Dick’s manner was commanding, and, although he continued to take on, Aaron sat up.