went sore to my heart that
I was able to do so little for the friend of one I loved. I saw that he
would have mended readily enough, if he had received the right
nutriment, which, alas! it seemed far out of my power to obtain. Yet in
the morning, when I went to the mouth of the cave, lo! there,
immediately to the right of me, on a bare place, were two great whaup
eggs, broad-buttocked and splashed with black. I never was gladder to
see food. It was late for the whaups to be breeding; and, indeed, they
had mostly left the moorland by that time. But, nevertheless, it was
manifest that Providence had bidden some bird, perhaps disappointed of
an earlier brood or late mated, to come and lay the eggs before our
door.

I bade Anton take the eggs by the ancient method of sucking--which he
made shift to do, and was very greatly strengthened thereby. So every
morning as long as we remained there, the wild bird laid an egg in the
morning, which made the Covenanter's breakfast. This is but one of the
daily marvels from the Lord which attended our progress. For whensoever
those that have been through the perilous time come together, they
recount these things to one another, and each has his like tale of
preservation and protection to tell.

But that minds me of a strange thing. Once during the little while when
I companied with the Compellers, it was my hap to meet with clattering
John Crichton, that rank persecutor. And what was my surprise to hear
that all his talk ran upon certain providential dreams he had had in the
night time, by which there was revealed to him the hiding place of many
of the "fanatics." Aye, and even the very place pointed out to him in
the dream where it would be most convenient to compass their capturing.
And this in due time he brought about, or said he did. But, for all
that, I do not think that the company he was among set great store by
his truthfulness. For after each wondrous story of adventure and
second-sight they would roar with laughter, and say: "Well done,
Crichton! Out with another one!"

After a day or two of this lack of food, it came suddenly to me what a
dumbhead I was, to bide with an empty belly in a place where at least
there must be plenty of fish near at hand. So I rose early from off my
bed of heather tops, and betook me down to the river edge. It is nothing
but a burn which they call the Eglin Lane, a long, bare water, slow and
peaty, but with some trout of size in it. Also from t