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- Джон Бакен
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- Стр. 104/195
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Three
minutes
later
Isobel
appeared
,
shawled
and
nightcapped
.
"
Keep
us
,
Mr
.
David
,
is
’
t
yoursel
’
that
’
s
seeck
?
"
she
wailed
.
"
I
didna
like
the
look
o
’
ye
the
day
and
-
-
"
He
cut
her
short
.
"
A
friend
of
mine
has
had
a
mischance
.
His
leg
is
broken
,
and
I
think
there
is
other
trouble
.
Listen
,
Isobel
.
.
.
.
The
man
is
one
of
Montrose
’
s
soldiers
,
and
Montrose
’
s
army
has
suffered
defeat
.
If
he
is
found
here
by
the
pursuing
troops
,
he
will
die
.
He
is
my
friend
,
and
I
would
save
him
.
You
and
I
must
nurse
him
between
us
,
and
no
word
of
his
presence
here
must
pass
these
doors
.
"
"
Mercy
on
us
!
A
malignant
!
"
the
old
woman
exclaimed
.
"
And
my
friend
,
"
said
David
curtly
.
"
If
I
think
it
consistent
with
Christian
duty
to
save
his
life
,
so
well
may
you
.
You
and
I
have
no
quarrel
with
stricken
men
.
I
appeal
to
the
kind
heart
that
is
in
you
and
your
regard
for
me
,
and
I
do
not
think
I
will
appeal
in
vain
.
"
"
Your
wull
be
done
,
"
said
Isobel
.
"
Whaur
is
the
body
?
See
and
I
’
ll
get
blankets
and
pillows
,
for
the
bed
hasna
been
made
up
this
sax
months
.
"
The
sight
of
the
figure
on
the
bedstead
,
his
quilted
and
brocaded
coat
,
his
light
cuirass
,
his
long
untanned
boots
much
scratched
and
frayed
,
his
feathered
hat
beside
him
on
the
floor
,
caused
Isobel
to
shrink
.
"
A
rampin
’
Edomite
,
"
she
said
.
"
Look
at
the
long
hair
and
the
murderin
’
sword
,
stained
,
nae
doot
,
with
the
bluid
of
the
saints
.
Your
friend
,
says
you
,
sir
?
Weel
,
he
’
s
been
walkin
’
ither
than
Gospel
roads
,
I
can
see
brawly
,
and
gin
he
hadna
been
amang
the
craws
he
wadna
hae
been
shot
.
.
.
.
But
the
puir
chield
’
s
in
a
dwam
!
Haste
ye
,
sir
,
and
help
me
off
wi
’
thae
Babylonish
garments
,
and
that
weskit
o
’
airn
-
-
what
for
suld
folk
gang
to
the
smith
for
cleading
and
no
to
a
wabster
?
And
stap
his
swird
aneath
the
bed
,
for
I
’
m
feared
to
look
on
’
t
.
"
The
man
half
recovered
consciousness
as
they
stripped
off
his
coat
and
cuirass
,
and
when
it
came
to
the
breeches
he
groaned
aloud
.
So
they
left
them
on
him
and
slit
the
boot
on
the
broken
leg
.
It
was
a
clean
break
of
the
shin
,
and
Isobel
,
who
showed
some
skill
in
the
business
,
set
the
leg
,
and
bound
it
in
firm
splints
made
of
the
staves
of
an
old
cask
.
Then
they
searched
for
further
damage
,
and
found
that
he
was
suffering
from
little
except
an
extreme
fatigue
.
There
was
a
pike
wound
in
his
shoulder
,
which
Isobel
bathed
and
bandaged
,
and
a
pistol
-
ball
had
been
turned
by
the
mail
he
wore
and
had
left
a
bruised
rib
.
By
the
time
the
grime
and
blood
were
washed
from
his
face
,
he
had
got
his
senses
sufficiently
back
to
find
his
voice
.
