Chapter XXV. In Balquhidder

by Robert Louis Stevenson

　　At the door of the first house we came to, Alan knocked, whichwas of no very safe enterprise in such a part of the Highlands asthe Braes of Balquhidder. No great clan held rule there; it wasfilled and disputed by small septs, and broken remnants, and whatthey call "chiefless folk," driven into the wild country aboutthe springs of Forth and Teith by the advance of the Campbells.Here were Stewarts and Maclarens, which came to the same thing,for the Maclarens followed Alan's chief in war, and made but oneclan with Appin. Here, too, were many of that old, proscribed,nameless, red-handed clan of the Macgregors. They had alwaysbeen ill-considered, and now worse than ever, having credit withno side or party in the whole country of Scotland. Their chief,Macgregor of Macgregor, was in exile; the more immediate leaderof that part of them about Balquhidder, James More, Rob Roy'seldest son, lay waiting his trial in Edinburgh Castle; they werein ill-blood with Highlander and Lowlander, with the Grahames,the Maclarens, and the Stewarts; and Alan, who took up thequarrel of any friend, however distant, was extremely wishful toavoid them.Chance served us very well; for it was a household of Maclarensthat we found, where Alan was not only welcome for his name'ssake but known by reputation. Here then I was got to bed withoutdelay, and a doctor fetched, who found me in a sorry plight. Butwhether because he was a very good doctor, or I a very young,strong man, I lay bedridden for no more than a week, and before amonth I was able to take the road again with a good heart.All this time Alan would not leave me though I often pressed him,and indeed his foolhardiness in staying was a common subject ofoutcry with the two or three friends that were let into thesecret. He hid by day in a hole of the braes under a littlewood; and at night, when the coast was clear, would come into thehouse to visit me. I need not say if I was pleased to see him;Mrs. Maclaren, our hostess, thought nothing good enough for sucha guest; and as Duncan Dhu (which was the name of our host) had apair of pipes in his house, and was much of a lover of music,this time of my recovery was quite a festival, and we commonlyturned night into day.The soldiers let us be; although once a party of two companiesand some dragoons went by in the bottom of the valley, where Icould see them through the window as I lay in bed. What was muchmore astonishing, no magistrate came near me, and there was noquestion put of whence I came or whither I was going; and in thattime of excitement, I was as free of all inquiry as though I hadlain in a desert. Yet my presence was known before I left to allthe people in Balquhidder and the adjacent parts; many comingabout the house on visits and these (after the custom of thecountry) spreading the news among their neighbours. The bills,too, had now been printed. There was one pinned near the foot ofmy bed, where I could read my own not very flattering portraitand, in larger characters, the amount of the blood money that hadbeen set upon my life. Duncan Dhu and the rest that knew that Ihad come there in Alan's company, could have entertained no doubtof who I was; and many others must have had their guess. Forthough I had changed my clothes, I could not change my age orperson; and Lowland boys of eighteen were not so rife in theseparts of the world, and above all about that time, that theycould fail to put one thing with another, and connect me with thebill. So it was, at least. Other folk keep a secret among twoor three near friends, and somehow it leaks out; but among theseclansmen, it is told to a whole countryside, and they will keepit for a century.There was but one thing happened worth narrating; and that is thevisit I had of Robin Oig, one of the sons of the notorious RobRoy. He was sought upon all sides on a charge of carrying ayoung woman from Balfron and marrying her (as was alleged) byforce; yet he stepped about Balquhidder like a gentleman in hisown walled policy. It was he who had shot James Maclaren at theplough stilts, a quarrel never satisfied; yet he walked into thehouse of his blood enemies as a rider[30] might into a publicinn.[30]Commercial traveller.Duncan had time to pass me word of who it was; and we looked atone another in concern. You should understand, it was then closeupon the time of Alan's coming; the two were little likely toagree; and yet if we sent word or sought to make a signal, it wassure to arouse suspicion in a man under so dark a cloud as theMacgregor.He came in with a great show of civility, but like a man amonginferiors; took off his bonnet to Mrs. Maclaren, but clapped iton his head again to speak to Duncan; and leaving thus sethimself (as he would have thought) in a proper light, came to mybedside and bowed."I am given to know, sir," says he, "that your name is Balfour.""They call me David Balfour," said I, "at your service.""I would give ye my name in return, sir" he replied, "but it'sone somewhat blown upon of late days; and it'll perhaps sufficeif I tell ye that I am own brother to James More Drummond orMacgregor, of whom ye will scarce have failed to hear.""No, sir," said I, a little alarmed; "nor yet of your father,Macgregor-Campbell." And I sat up and bowed in bed; for Ithought best to compliment him, in case he was proud of havinghad an outlaw to his father.He bowed in return. "But what I am come to say, sir," he wenton, "is this. In the year '45, my brother raised a part of the'Gregara' and marched six companies to strike a stroke for thegood side; and the surgeon that marched with our clan and curedmy brother's leg when it was broken in the brush at Preston Pans,was a gentleman of the same name precisely as yourself. He wasbrother to Balfour of Baith; and if you are in any reasonabledegree of nearness one of that gentleman's kin, I have come toput myself and my people at your command."You are to remember that I knew no more of my descent than anycadger's dog; my uncle, to be sure, had prated of some of ourhigh connections, but nothing to the present purpose; and therewas nothing left me but that bitter disgrace of owning that Icould not tell.Robin told me shortly he was sorry he had put himself about,turned his back upon me without a sign of salutation, and as hewent towards the door, I could hear him telling Duncan that I was"only some kinless loon that didn't know his own father." Angryas I was at these words, and ashamed of my own ignorance, I couldscarce keep from smiling that a man who was under the lash of thelaw (and was indeed hanged some three years later) should be sonice as to the descent of his acquaintances.Just in the door, he met Alan coming in; and the two drew backand looked at each other like strange dogs. They were neither ofthem big men, but they seemed fairly to swell out with pride.Each wore a sword, and by a movement of his haunch, thrust clearthe hilt of it, so that it might be the more readily grasped andthe blade drawn."Mr. Stewart, I am thinking," says Robin."Troth, Mr. Macgregor, it's not a name to be ashamed of,"answered Alan."I did not know ye were in my country, sir," says Robin."It sticks in my mind that I am in the country of my friends theMaclarens," says Alan."That's a kittle point," returned the other. "There may be twowords to say to that. But I think I will have heard that you area man of your sword?""Unless ye were born deaf, Mr. Macgregor, ye will have heard agood deal more than that," says Alan. "I am not the only manthat can draw steel in Appin; and when my kinsman and captain,Ardshiel, had a talk with a gentleman of your name, not so manyyears back, I could never hear that the Macgregor had the best ofit.""Do ye mean my father, sir?" says Robin."Well, I wouldnae wonder," said Alan. "The gentleman I have inmy mind had the ill-taste to clap Campbell to his name.""My father was an old man," returned Robin."The match was unequal. You and me would make a better pair,sir.""I was thinking that," said Alan.I was half out of bed, and Duncan had been hanging at the elbowof these fighting cocks, ready to intervene upon the leastoccasion. But when that word was uttered, it was a case of nowor never; and Duncan, with something of a white face to be sure,thrust himself between."Gentlemen," said he, "I will have been thinking of a verydifferent matter, whateffer. Here are my pipes, and here are youtwo gentlemen who are baith acclaimed pipers. It's an aulddispute which one of ye's the best. Here will be a braw chanceto settle it.""Why, sir," said Alan, still addressing Robin, from whom indeedhe had not so much as shifted his eyes, nor yet Robin from him,"why, sir," says Alan, "I think I will have heard some sough[31]of the sort. Have ye music, as folk say? Are ye a bit of apiper?"[31]Rumour."I can pipe like a Macrimmon!" cries Robin."And that is a very bold word," quoth Alan."I have made bolder words good before now," returned Robin, "andthat against better adversaries.""It is easy to try that," says Alan.Duncan Dhu made haste to bring out the pair of pipes that was hisprincipal possession, and to set before his guests a mutton-hamand a bottle of that drink which they call Athole brose, andwhich is made of old whiskey, strained honey and sweet cream,slowly beaten together in the right order and proportion. Thetwo enemies were still on the very breach of a quarrel; but downthey sat, one upon each side of the peat fire, with a mighty showof politeness. Maclaren pressed them to taste his mutton-ham and"the wife's brose," reminding them the wife was out of Athole andhad a name far and wide for her skill in that confection. ButRobin put aside these hospitalities as bad for the breath."I would have ye to remark, sir," said Alan, "that I havenaebroken bread for near upon ten hours, which will be worse for thebreath than any brose in Scotland.""I will take no advantages, Mr. Stewart," replied Robin. "Eatand drink; I'll follow you."Each ate a small portion of the ham and drank a glass of thebrose to Mrs. Maclaren; and then after a great number ofcivilities, Robin took the pipes and played a little spring in avery ranting manner."Ay, ye can, blow" said Alan; and taking the instrument from hisrival, he first played the same spring in a manner identical withRobin's; and then wandered into variations, which, as he went on,he decorated with a perfect flight of grace-notes, such as piperslove, and call the "warblers."I had been pleased with Robin's playing, Alan's ravished me."That's no very bad, Mr. Stewart," said the rival, "but ye show apoor device in your warblers.""Me!" cried Alan, the blood starting to his face. "I give ye thelie.""Do ye own yourself beaten at the pipes, then," said Robin, "thatye seek to change them for the sword?""And that's very well said, Mr. Macgregor," returned Alan; "andin the meantime" (laying a strong accent on the word) "I takeback the lie. I appeal to Duncan.""Indeed, ye need appeal to naebody," said Robin. "Ye're a farbetter judge than any Maclaren in Balquhidder: for it's a God'struth that you're a very creditable piper for a Stewart. Hand methe pipes." Alan did as he asked; and Robin proceeded to imitateand correct some part of Alan's variations, which it seemed thathe remembered perfectly."Ay, ye have music," said Alan, gloomily."And now be the judge yourself, Mr. Stewart," said Robin; andtaking up the variations from the beginning, he worked themthroughout to so new a purpose, with such ingenuity andsentiment, and with so odd a fancy and so quick a knack in thegrace-notes, that I was amazed to hear him.As for Alan, his face grew dark and hot, and he sat and gnawedhis fingers, like a man under some deep affront. "Enough!" hecried. "Ye can blow the pipes -- make the most of that." And hemade as if to rise.But Robin only held out his hand as if to ask for silence, andstruck into the slow measure of a pibroch. It was a fine piece ofmusic in itself, and nobly played; but it seems, besides, it wasa piece peculiar to the Appin Stewarts and a chief favourite withAlan. The first notes were scarce out, before there came achange in his face; when the time quickened, he seemed to growrestless in his seat; and long before that piece was at an end,the last signs of his anger died from him, and he had no thoughtbut for the music."Robin Oig," he said, when it was done, "ye are a great piper. Iam not fit to blow in the same kingdom with ye. Body of me! yehave mair music in your sporran than I have in my head! Andthough it still sticks in my mind that I could maybe show yeanother of it with the cold steel, I warn ye beforehand -- it'llno be fair! It would go against my heart to haggle a man thatcan blow the pipes as you can!"Thereupon that quarrel was made up; all night long the brose wasgoing and the pipes changing hands; and the day had come prettybright, and the three men were none the better for what they hadbeen taking, before Robin as much as thought upon the road.