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Chapter 17

           

           Indeed,IscarceknewwhatIwasdoing,butIobeyed;andasIdidso,Iheardthefirelocksbangandtheballswhistleinthebirches.

           JustinsidetheshelterofthetreesIfoundAlanBreckstanding,withafishing-rod.Hegavemenosalutation;indeeditwasnotimeforcivilities;only“Come!”sayshe,andsetoffrunningalongthesideofthemountaintowardsBalachulish;andI,likeasheep,tofollowhim.

           Nowweranamongthebirches;nowstoopingbehindlowhumpsuponthemountain-side;nowcrawlingonallfoursamongtheheather.Thepacewasdeadly:myheartseemedburstingagainstmyribs;andIhadneithertimetothinknorbreathtospeakwith.OnlyIrememberseeingwithwonder,thatAlaneverynowandthenwouldstraightenhimselftohisfullheightandlookback;andeverytimehedidso,therecameagreatfar-awaycheeringandcryingofthesoldiers.

           Quarterofanhourlater,Alanstopped,clappeddownflatintheheather,andturnedtome.

           “Now,”saidhe,“it’searnest.DoasIdo,foryourlife.”

           Andatthesamespeed,butnowwithinfinitelymoreprecaution,wetracedbackagainacrossthemountain-sidebythesamewaythatwehadcome,onlyperhapshigher;tillatlastAlanthrewhimselfdownintheupperwoodofLettermore,whereIhadfoundhimatthefirst,andlay,withhisfaceinthebracken,pantinglikeadog.

           Myownsidessoached,myheadsoswam,mytonguesohungoutofmymouthwithheatanddryness,thatIlaybesidehimlikeonedead.

           

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