Eagle River Democrat. [volume] (Eagle River, Vilas County, Wis.) 1893-1896, 1896-07-06
KIDNAPPED.
iBEZNG MEMOIRS OF THE ADVENTURES OF DAVID
BALFoUR IN THE YEAR 175l
BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.
CHAPTER III-(Continued.)

ut would be strange if [ didnae," he
returned, "for he was my born brother;
and little as We seem to like either me
sor my house. or my good parritch, I'm
your born uncle, Davie my man, and
you are my born nephew. So give US
the letter, and sit down and fill your
kyle"
If | had been some years younger,
what with shame, WEAKNESS and G4sap-
Dointment, | believe | had burst into
tears AS il was | could find no words,
neither black nor white, but handed him
the letter and sat down to the porridge
with as little appetite for meat as ever
d young man had
Meanwhile my uncle, STOPPING over
the fire, turned the letter over and over
in his hands.
DO We ken what's in it?' he asked
suddenly.
~''that the seal has not been broken
AYE" said he, "but what brought you
here?"
''To give the letter." said 1.
mo" says he, cunningly, but ye
have had some hopes, nae doubt!
II confess, sir" said l, when was
told that | had kinsfolk well-to-do, / did
indeed indulge the hope that they might
help me in my life. But | am no beggar;
| look for no favors at your hands, and
i
For as poor as l appear, have friends
of my own that will be blithe to help
10"
''Hoot-hootp' said Uncle Ebenezer,
"'dinnae fly up in the snuff at me. Wen
agree fine vet. And, Davie my man, if
Tou're dc done with that bit parritch, l
could just take a sup of it myself. Ay,
he continued, as soon as he had Ousted
me from the stool and spoon, they re
fine. halesome food-they,re grand food,
parritch." He murmured little grace
to himself and fell to. Your father
was very fond of his meat, | mind; he
was hearty, if not great eater; but
as for me, / could never do mar than
pyke at foed." He took pull at the
small beer, which probably reminded him
of hOspitable duties; for his next speech
ran thus: IF we're dry, yell find water
behind the door,"
To this | returned no answer, standing
stifiy on my two feet and looking down
upon my uncle with mighty angry
heart He, on his part, continued to eat
like q man under some pressure OF time,
and to throw out little darling glances
now at my shoes and now at my nome
spun stockings. Only once, when ne mad
ventured to look little higher, our eyes
met; and no thief taken with mana IN
a mans pocket could have shown more
lively signals of distress. This set mes
in q muse whether his timidity arose
from too long a diSuse of any human
company; and whether perhaps, upon
little trial, it might pass OF, ana my
uncle change into an altogether different
man. From this [ was awakened by
his sharp voice. 49,
.sYour fathers been long dead?' he
asked
'.Three weeks, sir" said |.
He was a secret man, Alexander;
secret. silent man." he continued. He
never said muckle when he was young:
He'll never have spoken muckle OF me {!
Il never knew, sir, till you told. it me
yourself, that he had any brother.
Dear me, dear me-" said EbeDezer.
Nor yet of Shaws, [ daresayT
mot so much as the name, sir, said L.
'"Fo think O. that!' said he. "A strange
nature of a MANI = For all that. he
seemed singularly satisfied, but whether
with himself or me, or with this conduct
of nv fathers, was more than L could
read. Certainly, however, he seemed to
be outgrowing that distaste, or ill-will,
that he had conceived at first against my
person; for presently he jumped up, came
across the room behind me, and hit me
a smack upon the shoulder. We'll
agree fine yet!' he cried. Pm just as
glad l let you in And now come AVA
to your bed"
To my surprise, he lit no lamp Or can
die, but set forth into the dark passage,
CROPPED his way, breathing, deeply, up
fight of steps, and paused before door,
which he unlocked. | was close upon his
heels. having stumbled after him as best
/ might; and he babe me go in, for that
was my chamber. I did as he bid, but
paused after a few steps, and begged
light to go to bed with.
Hoot-toot:' said Uncle Ebenezer,
there's a fine moon"
Neither moon nor star, sir, and pit
mirk,"* said l. II cannae see the bed"
''Hoot-toot, hoot-toot!' said he.
Lights in house is thing l dinnae
of
Goodnight to ye, Davie, my man." And
before | had time to add a further pro-
test, he pulled the door to, and | heard
him lock me in from the outside
/ did not know whether to laugh or
cry. The room was as cold as a well,
and the bed, when l had found my way
to it, as damp as a peat-hag; but by
good fortune l had caught up my bundle
and my plaid, and rolling myself IN the
latter, | lay down upon the floor under
the lee of the big bedstead, and fell
speedily asleep.
With the first peep of day / opened my
eyes, to find myself in a great chamber,
hung with stamped leather, furnished
with fine embroidered furniture, and lit
by three fair windows Ten years ago,
or perhaps twenty, it must have been as
pleasant a room to lie down or to awake
in as a man could wish; but damp, dirt,
disuse, and the mice and spiders had
done their worst since then. Many of
the WlndoW-paneS, besides, were broken;
and indeed this was so common q fea-
ture in that house, that [ believe my
uncle must at some time have stood a
siege from his indignant neighbors-per-
haps with Jennet Clouston at their head.
Meanwhile the sun was shining out
side; and being very cold in that miser
able room, | knocked and shouted till my
jaiIer came and let me out He carried
me to the back of the house, where was
Il draw-well, and told me to wash my
face there, if / wanted" and when that
was done, l made the best of my own
way back to the kitchen, where he had
lit the fire and was making the porridge.
The table was laid with two bowls and
two horn spoons, but the same single
measure of small been. Perhaps my eye
rested on this particular with some sur
prise, and perhaps my uncle observed it;
for he spoke up as if in answer to my
thought. asking me if | would like to
dIillI. ala-fnl: he called II