The Highland monthly - National Library of Scotland

484
The Highland Monthly.
landlord himself who answered this call. He immediately
brought in some bread and cheese and the requisites for
making hot punch. Then having bidden them a surly
good night, he retired, and the wary travellers thereupon
immediately replaced the chair, so as to frustrate any
attempts that might be made to open the door without
violence.
Each gladly took a glass of the warm drink. They felt
chilled, and no marvel ; for the roof and walls of the room
were dripping, and the beds were clammy with damp.
Alas !
that night, the old tacksman contracted the seeds of
disease which never left him. After supper, Gillespie
observed—as he told the story—that his master seemed
worn out with the fatigue and anxiety of the day, and
leant his head on the table as though he had fallen into a
dose, whereupon Macewen arose and wrapped his plaid,
which was now tolerably dry, around him. He then threw
a lapful of peats on the fire, and resumed his position,
resolving to keep constant watch until morning. After
this he could remember no more. He, too, fell into a heavy
sleep. When he awoke, it was some time before he could
collect his senses. The fire had burned out, and the room
was pitch dark. He was benumbed with cold. He tried to
stir, but had scarcely sufficient strength to raise his head
from the table. With an effort he stretched out his hands,
and they rested on his master's head. Teviot had not
stirred from the same position which he occupied when he
fell asleep. Gillespie felt certain he saw a ray of daylight
that descended through the chimney and fell upon the
grey ashes, but neither of the two windows of the room
could be discerned. He arose, and, finding that his strength
had by this time in some measure returned, he stepped
across the floor, groping as he went. He brushed against
an unexpected projection, and lo ! a
heap of bed clothes
tumbled from the window, and the cold dull light of a
winter's dawn, streamed through.