“Good-bye, Nance!”
“Good-bye, sir. God bless you!”
At a bend in the road I turned to look at her again.
She was standing there, looking after me, and waved
her bonnet in farewell. I took off my hat and
waved back, and then she was gone from sight.
“She’s a good girl is Nance,” said
I aloud, “and you, curse you, are the cause
of all my troubles”—this to my new
hat. My foppery had cost me dear. What would
the Prince say to my failure? What would Margaret
say? There would once more be questionings in
her eyes, and the shadow of doubt on her face.
“Curse you!” I said again to the hat,
and then, with a swift, strong sweep of my arm, sent
it spinning into a brook.
Sultan showed his points. He did ten miles in
fifty minutes by my watch, accurate timing and counting
from one milestone to another.
At last the broad Trent came in sight and I rattled
over Swarkston bridge, only to be pulled up on the
other side by a strong post of Highlanders. My
luck still held, however, for Donald was amongst them,
and, on his explaining who I was, the chief in command
let me pass.
Donald trotted by my side for half a mile to give
me all the news. The Prince had lain all night
at Derby in the Earl of Exeter’s house.
There had been many rumours and wranglings among the
chiefs at night, a council of war was fixed for this
morning, and no one knew what it was all about.
There had been great doings overnight in the town,
and he, Donald, had stood guard at the Prince’s
lodging.
“She dinged ’em a’, as I tell’t
ye she would,” he said. “Losh, man,
it was a grand sight to see her an’ the bonny
Maclachlan gliding ower ta flure in ta dancin’.
They were like twa gowden eagles gliding in the air
ower a ben wi’ ta sun shinin’ on it.
Losh, man, I tell it ye, they’re a bonny, bonny
pair. Got pless ’em.”
“Good-bye, Donald! I’ll push on.
Damn Swift Nicks!” I cried, and gave Sultan
such a dig in the flanks that he shot ahead like an
arrow from a bow. I was sorry immediately, but
it was more than I could stand.
THE COUNCIL AT DERBY
It was a relief to get into the chock-full streets
of the town, where thinking was impossible and good
round cursing indispensable. Even with its aid
in clearing a course for him, Sultan tumbled over a
brace of Highlanders, two of a swarm of Maclachlans
and Macdonalds who were disputing possession of a
cutler’s shop on the corner of Bag Street.
After their native fashion, they immediately suspended
their quarrel to unite against a common foe, but on
a Maclachlan recognizing me as a friend, went at one
another again with infinite zest, and I saw them hard
at it as I turned into the market-square.
Our meagre collection of cannon had been packed here
with their appendancies, and I was threading my way
through them to the far side of the square, where
stands Exeter House, and was within a flick of a pebble
of it, when the Colonel ran out, bareheaded and eager,
and came up to me.
