Scripture (which the great
traveller Pococke calleth Jerboa), a feeble people, that make our abode
in the rocks. So, fare you well, my good lad, till we meet at Janet's in
the even; for I must get into my Patmos, which is no easy matter for my
auld still limbs.'

With that he began to ascend the rock, striding, with the help of
his hands, from one precarious footstep to another, till he got about
half-way up, where two or three bushes concealed the mouth of a hole,
resembling an oven, into which the Baron insinuated, first his head and
shoulders, and then, by slow gradation, the rest of his long body; his
legs and feet finally disappearing, coiled up like a huge snake entering
his retreat, or a long pedigree introduced with care and difficulty into
the narrow pigeon-hole of an old cabinet. Waverley had the curiosity to
clamber up and look in upon him in his den, as the lurking-place might
well be termed. Upon the whole, he looked not unlike that ingenious
puzzle, called a reel in a bottle, the marvel of children (and of
some grown people too, myself for one), who can neither comprehend the
mystery how it was got in, or how it is to be taken out. The cave was
very narrow, too low in the roof to admit of his standing, or almost
of his sitting up, though he made some awkward attempts at the latter
posture. His sole amusement was the perusal of his old friend Titus
Livius, varied by occasionally scratching Latin proverbs and texts of
Scripture with his knife on the roof and walls of his fortalice, which
were of sandstone. As the cave was dry, and filled with clean straw and
withered fern, 'it made,' as he said, coiling himself up with an air
of snugness and comfort which contrasted strangely with his situation,
'unless when the wind was due north, a very passable GITE for an old
soldier.' Neither, as he observed, was he without sentries for the
purpose of reconnoitring. Davie and his mother were constantly on the
watch, to discover and avert danger; and it was singular what instances
of address seemed dictated by the instinctive attachment of the poor
simpleton, when his patron's safety was concerned.

With Janet, Edward now sought an interview. He had recognized her at
first sight as the old woman who had nursed him during his sickness
after his delivery from Gifted Gilfillan. The hut, also, though a little
repaired, and somewhat better furnished, was certainly the place of his
confinement; and he now recollected on the c