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Scott, Walter, Sir, 1771-1832

"Waverley"

'
'I often thought so,' said Houghton,'though they showed us your very
seal; and so Tims was shot and I was reduced to the ranks.'
'Do not exhaust your strength in speaking,' said Edward; 'I will get you
a surgeon presently.'
He saw Mac-Ivor approaching, who was now returning from headquarters,
where he had attended a council of war, and hastened to meet him. 'Brave
news!'shouted the Chief; 'we shall be at it in less than two hours. The
Prince has put himself at the head of the advance, and, as he drew his
sword, called out, "My friends, I have thrown away the scabbard." Come,
Waverley, we move instantly.'
'A moment--a moment; this poor prisoner is dying; where shall I find a
surgeon?'
'Why, where should you? We have none, you know, but two or three French
fellows, who, I believe, are little better than _garqons apothecaires_.'
'But the man will bleed to death.'
'Poor fellow!' said Fergus, in a momentary fit of compassion; then
instantly added, 'But it will be a thousand men's fate before night; so
come along.'
'I cannot; I tell you he is a son of a tenant of my uncle's.'
'O, if he's a follower of yours he must be looked to; I'll send Callum to
you; but _diaoul! ceade millia mottigheart_,' continued the impatient
Chieftain, 'what made an old soldier like Bradwardine send dying men here
to cumber us?'
Callum came with his usual alertness; and, indeed, Waverley rather gained
than lost in the opinion of the Highlanders by his anxiety about the
wounded man.


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