Part 47 (2/2)
”Will ye write your names to it, or will ye not?” demanded Murray.
No one spoke.
”That settles it, sir,” said Murray. ”But I desire you, Mr. Secretary, to make a note of my offer and its reception.”
”Have your way!” said Charles, in sullen anger. ”But it settles another thing for ye. I call no more councils.”
He turned and strode out of the room. The Stuart cause was in its coffin, and it only remained for us to give it a fair burial.
When the door closed behind the Prince, the Colonel whispered in my ear, ”Slip off and tell Freake!”
I did the journey at a run, and found Master Freake sitting, quietly meditative, but booted and spurred for his journey.
”Well, Oliver?”
”We go back to-night.”
In five minutes I was standing in the Ironmarket at his grey mare's head.
”I'm not deserting you, lad,” said he, gripping my hand heartily.
”Of course not, sir. Good-bye, and good luck!”
”My love to Margaret. Look out for the sergeant. Good-bye!”
CHAPTER XXII
A BROTHER OF THE LAMP
Two days afterwards, towards six o'clock on a bitter evening, I rode wearily into Leek. I was having a hard apprentices.h.i.+p in soldiering under a master who had no idea of sparing either me or himself. For the Colonel had accepted the post of second, under Murray, in command of our rear-guard, and had made it a condition of acceptance that I should be with him. Some thirty Highlanders, mostly Macdonalds, picked dare-devils, had been mounted and turned into dragooners, and I, thanks to the Colonel, had been made Captain over them.
”The lad's no experience, but he's got sense,” he said to my lord George Murray.
”I ken him weel aneugh,” said his lords.h.i.+p. ”He threatened to knock my head off. D'ye ca' that sense, Kit Waynflete?”
”Since your head's still on your shoulders,” said the Colonel, fumbling for his snuff, ”I do. He knocked Maclachlan's Donald into a log of timber, and, damme, I hardly saw his hand move.”
”That's only a trick, sir,” I protested.
”Weel, Captain Wheatman,” said Murray, ”keep your ugly English tricks to y'rsel. Mind ye, colonel or no colonel, I'll break ye first chance ye gie me.”
Maclachan was, I must say, very obliging and complimentary over my promotion. He gave me Donald to be my sergeant and personal servant, finding him, how I knew not, a horse strong enough to carry him easily.
”It is ferra guid,” said Donald to his chief. ”Er shall pe lookit to as if her were ma mither's own son.”
To me, Captain Wheatman, clinking about in the corridor waiting for the Colonel, comes William, suave and confidential as ever.
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