Chapter 5

A WARLIKE CHAPTER, CULMINATING IN THE FLOUTING OF THE MINISTER BY
THE WOMAN.

"Mr. DISHART!"

Jean had clutched at Gavin in Bank Street. Her hair was streaming,
and her wrapper but half buttoned.

"Oh, Mr. Dishart, look at the mistress! I couldna keep her in the
manse."

Gavin saw his mother beside him, bare-headed, trembling.

"How could I sit still, Gavin, and the town full o' the skirls of
women and bairns? Oh, Gavin, what can I do for them? They will
suffer most this night."

As Gavin took her hand he knew that Margaret felt for the people
more than he.

"But you must go home, mother," he said, "and leave me to do my
duty. I will take you myself if you will not go with Jean. Be
careful of her, Jean."

"Ay, will I," Jean answered, then burst into tears. "Mr.
Dishart,"' she cried, "if they take my father they'd best take my
mither too."

The two women went back to the manse, where Jean re-lit the fire,
having nothing else to do, and boiled the kettle, while Margaret
wandered in anguish from room to room.

Men nearly naked ran past Gavin, seeking to escape from Thrums by
the fields he had descended. When he shouted to them they only ran
faster. A Tillyloss weaver whom he tried to stop struck him
savagely and sped past to the square. In Bank Street, which was
full move. He had heard the horn. Thrice it sounded, and thrice it
struck him to the heart. He looked again and saw a shadow stealing
along the Tenements, then, another, then half-a-dozen. He
remembered Mr. Carfrae's words, "If you ever hear that horn, I
implore you to hasten to the square," and in another minute he had
reached the Tenements.

Now again he saw the gypsy. She ran past him, half-a-score of men,
armed with staves and pikes, at her heels. At first he thought
they were chasing her. but they were following her as a leader.
Her eyes sparkled as she waved them to the square with her arms.

"The soldiers, the soldiers!" was the universal cry.

"Who is that woman?" demanded Gavin, catching hold of a frightened
old man.

"Curse the Egyptian limmer," the man answered, "she's egging my
laddie on to fecht."

"Bless her rather," the son cried, "for warning us that the sojers
is coming. Put your ear to the ground, Mr. Dishart, and you'll
hear the dirl o' their feet."

The young man rushed away to the square, flinging his father from
him. Gavin followed. As he turned into the school wynd, the town
drum began to beat, windows were thrown open, and sullen men ran
out of closes where women were screaming