Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1900-01-27


'Saul-Saul Mark I cried, where are
you? Let me out! Let me out.'
[ Fer now it came to me that I had been
tricked. 1 called on the provost till was
hoarse. shouted entreaties, reproaches,
threatenings. felt all round the walls.
| bruising my hands as l did so. They were
of stone, and solid. yet with curious
crumby, dryish feeling everywhere. My
| prison house appeared to come to point
| over my head. The iron door at the side
by which I had entered was now blocked
up by stones like the rest and quite indis-
| tinguishable.
The Egyptian dark of the place could be
felt IKE weight on the eyeiids. Elk
| hausted and desperate, I sat down on
| the cold stone floor and wcpt.
| CHAPTER m.
On the Trail of the Hunter.
Now 1 must go back to where left little
Anna Mark And full time, too, for such
| a numbskull as l had proved myself hath
| occupied the tale long enough. 1 will re-
late what happened to her. for have rea-
son to know it as well as If it had hap
Iened to myself-or, in fact fully better.
| left Anna, as all may remember, by
the westerly gable of Umphray-Spurway's
house of New Milns when, in the evening
sunshine, 1 rode away over the hills well
| enough conceited with myself, which is no
unusual habit of mind in sixteen when it
hath spent an hour or two in the company
of an honest young lass.
| Well, as 1 say, left Anna standing I'M
der the Towering thorn which Umphray
had fetched all the way from Yorkshire
| why, no one exactly knew. 1t may be that
one like it grew in his mothers garden on
| the edge of the void, perhaps once on
| a time he, toe, had left a young maiden
| standing under the white May and smil-
| ing even Anna had now smiled upon me.
| Anna Mark stood while looking after
me under her hand, and /, for very pride
nf hnr hn h noe
of my back, did not turn round in the sad
die. Then, since William Bowman was in
Atercairn and Umphray himself not yet
home. she went off to the ordering of do
7 nestle affairs in the Min house, and to
| see that the foremen weavers shut and
barred all the doors properly, for in this
| matter Umph1ay Spurway trusted her
| wholly, as, indeed, well he might.
And while she was within doors the sun
began to sink, and the GOODNESS of evening
to come up out of the ground. By and by
Anna went out to the hillside pastures at
the back to find Joey Forgan, the herd
| boy of the Min, who ought to have had the
| cows home by that time. She was promis
| ing to herself what she would certainly do
| to Joey when she caught him. Walking
| with the swing 1 knew so well, and whis-
Ting like a Unite, she sped swift and light
| over the bent But all suddenly she saw
| that which made her stop stock still one
| moment and the next drop out of sight into
l a copse of tall broom.
The heather grows low down on the hills
| above umphrays, those same purple hills
| l had ridden into half an hour before The
gorse and WIMBLEDON reach up the burn
| sides to meet it, and all about there is seat
| tered beW1lderment of rocky knobs and
| great gray stones as big as cot houses.
| Anna Mark was turning the corner of one
| of these huge powders when a couple of
! score Of yards beneath her she saw two
| men speaking together like folk who have
| secrets to hide. One, the smaller and more
| thickly set. was Saul Mark, her own father
| The other was much taller, more COM
| mandlng man, In laced coat, which,
though they stood in the shadow, glittered
| in the bright reflection from the western
sky. 1t was of pale blue cloth, and the
| brafding was of no pattern which bespoke
| a soldier of the king. Saul Mark was stand
| ing with his hat off before the man in the
| blue coat and listening with an air of much
| respect. The latter appeared to be giving
certain orders, for he finished speak
ing, Anna saw her father salute, and pres
| entity mount the horse whose bride rein
mad been passed through his arm. He rode
| of as hard as he could go in the direction
OF the Thinkers Slap. the nearest pass
| through the hills to the town of Abercairn.
The tall. swarthy man stood awhile look
| ing after him, and then turning abruptly
on his heel he strobe past the broom bush
In which Anna was hidden so closely that
4 she could feel the ground shake with his
| heavy tread as he went.
| Then 1t came into her head that Saul
Mark, her father, had been ordered to ride
after me for some purpose of Immediate
! treachery She remembered the look on fer
| fathers face as he had watched us across
the little linn Of Kirkconnel that very af-
| ternoon, and do what she would she could
| not get the sense of impending danger out
| of her mind.
Anna looked about for Joey and the New
| Minis kye. She could see the last of them
passing in through the great gate and a cou-
| pie of weavers standing on either side to
| make all fast as soon as they We're safe.
| Then there came to the girl one of those
| quick impulses which. far more than or
dered and reasonable resolves, rule and or
der women's conduct.
| Anna resolved to follow her father
| through the hill gap, to find out for what
| purpose he had ridden off so holly upon my
| trail, and who the tall man might be whose
| orders he had taken like a servitor stand
| ing in the presence of his master. All
| which indeed she achieved before the night
was out, though not in the fashion she an
| Now, with Anna to think was simulta-
| peously to act, which circumstance made
her so dangerous at fencing and the single
| stick play. So 1t CHANGED that as Saul
| Mark rode northward by the Tinkler's Slap
| to intercept me- he had long. timber slip
| of girl tracking like a sleuth hound hard
| upon his trail. For the first part Of her
pursuit it was not hard to keep her father
| in sight. He did not ride well, but rather
with the seamans roll and lack of both
| comfort and elegance in the saddle. Be
] sides, the pass was difficult and enough
| even for a good horseman and in the day
| time. What it was to Saul Mark in the
| gray deeps of the cleaning only Saul him.
| self knew, and far he has kept his coun-
| ell. But to Anna all this was chids play.
| She had wandered on the hills with Muckle
| Saunders Macmillan till she could run as
| lightfoot over the heather and morass
as one of his securing colies. The moor
| land night was to her as the day, being, as
| often cast up to her. eyed like a cat.
And so while Saul Mark was every mo-
! ment gripping and slackening his beasts
rein, and cursing under his breath each
| time it stumbled, Anna was watching every
| movement with eyes which could distin-
| guish the twinkle of the wide silver ear
| rings in his ears every time his beast
| plunged over messy bowlder or wandered
| aside from the fairway of that perilous and
| breakneck path.
| When at last Saul debouched upon me at
the meeting of the hill roads on the brae
| face overlooking the twinkling lights of
| Abercain, Anna was not 100 yards in our
| rear Yet such was the resolution of her
heart that she did not betray herself either
then or afterwards. Such lass as little
Anna Mark there was not in broad Scot
| land--no, nor ever will be. That heart of
hers beat as steady and true between the
instant jaws Of danger when she sat
in Moreham kirk listening to the minister
| sermon. And always come stress or ease
| ment. the merry ewes of laughter the