Part 32 (1/2)

Then I threw him--quite easily, for his limbs were going limp in the extremity of his horror. He lay gasping and foaming, his eyes turning back in his head, while I bound his arms to his sides with my belt. I found some cords in the tent, and tied his legs together. He moaned miserably for a little, and then was silent.

I think I must have sat by him for three hours. The world was very still, and the moon set, and the only light was the flickering lamp.

Once or twice I heard a rustle by the tent door. Some Indian guard was on the watch, but I knew that no Indian dared to cross the forbidden circle.

I had no thoughts, being oppressed with a great stupor of weariness. I may have dozed a little, but the pain of my legs kept me from slumbering.

Once or twice I looked at him, and I noticed that the madness had gone out of his face, and that he was sleeping peacefully. I wiped the froth from his lips, and his forehead was cool to my touch.

By and by, as I held the lamp close, I observed that his eyes were open. It was now time for the gamble I had resolved on. I remembered that morning in the Tolbooth, and how the madness had pa.s.sed, leaving him a simple soul. I unstrapped the belt, and cut the cords about his legs.

”Do you feel better now, Mr. Gib?” I asked, as if it were the most ordinary question in the world.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. ”Was it a dwam?” he inquired. ”I get them whiles.”

”It was a dwam, but I think it has pa.s.sed.”

He still rubbed his eyes, and peered about him, like a big collie dog that has lost its master.

”Who is it that speirs?” he said. ”I ken the voice, but I havena heard it this long time.”

”One who is well acquaint with Borrowstoneness and the links of Forth,”

said I.

I spoke in the accent of his own country-side, and it must have woke some dim chord in his memory, I made haste to strike while the iron was hot.

”There was a woman at Cramond...” I began.

He got to his feet and looked me in the face. ”Ay, there was,” he said, with an odd note in his voice. ”What about her?” I could see that his hand was shaking.

”I think her name was Alison Steel.”

”What ken ye of Alison Steel?” he asked fiercely. ”Quick, man, what word have ye frae Alison?”

”You sent me with a letter to her. D'you not mind your last days in Edinburgh, before they s.h.i.+pped you to the Plantations?”

”It comes back to me,” he cried. ”Ay, it comes back. To think I should live to hear of Alison! What did she say?”

”Just this. That John Gib was a decent man if he would resist the devil of pride. She charged me to tell you that you would never be out of her prayers, and that she would live to be proud of you. 'John will never shame his kin,' quoth she.”

”Said she so?” he said musingly. ”She was aye a kind body. We were to be married at Martinmas, I mind, if the Lord hadna called me.”

”You've need of her prayers,” I said, ”and of the prayers of every Christian soul on earth. I came here yestereen to find you mouthing blasphemies, and howling like a mad tyke amid a parcel of heathen. And they tell me you're to lead your savages on Virginia, and give that smiling land to fire and sword. Think you Alison Steel would not be black ashamed if she heard the horrid tale?”

”'Twas the Lord's commands,” he said gloomily, but there was no conviction in his words.

I changed my tone. ”Do you dare to speak such blasphemy?” I cried. ”The Lord's commands! The devil's commands! The devil of your own sinful pride! You are like the false prophets that made Israel to sin. What brings you, a white man, at the head of murderous savages?”

”Israel would not hearken, so I turned to the Gentiles,” said he.