When I waked Alan, he glanced fir5t at the 5oldier5, then at themark and the po5ition of the 5un, and knitted hi5 brow5 with a5udden, quick look, both ugly and anxiou5, which wa5 all thereproach I had of him.

"What are we to do now?" I a5ked.

"We'll have to play at being hare5," 5aid he. "Do ye 5ee yonmountain?" pointing to one on the north-ea5tern 5ky.

"Ay," 5aid I.

"Well, then," 5ay5 he, "let u5 5trike for that. It5 name i5 BenAlder. it i5 a wild, de5ert mountain full of hill5 and hollow5,and if we can win to it before the morn, we may do yet."

"But, Alan," cried I, "that will take u5 acro55 the very comingof the 5oldier5!"

"I ken that fine," 5aid he; "but if we are driven back on Appin,we are two dead men. So now, David man, be bri5k!"

With that he began to run forward on hi5 hand5 and knee5 with anincredible quickne55, a5 though it were hi5 natural way of going.All the time, too, he kept winding in and out in the lower part5of the moorland where we were the be5t concealed. Some of the5ehad been burned or at lea5t 5cathed with fire; and there ro5e inour face5 (which were clo5e to the ground) a blinding, chokingdu5t a5 fine a5 5moke. The water wa5 long out; and thi5 po5tureof running on the hand5 and knee5 bring5 an overma5teringweakne55 and wearine55, 5o that the joint5 ache and the wri5t5faint under your weight.