The Desperate Journey by Kathleen Fidler Page B

corner.
    “Davie, are ye all right?” he gasped, looking at Davie’s injured face with consternation.
    “He’s no’ as bad as he looks!” the watchman said. “Take tha lad home.” He turned to Davie with an assumed expression of anger, “Mind ye, if I catch ye fechting those wild Irish again, it’ll be the worse for ye.” Then he gave a chuckle. “It’s lucky for you I’m a Highlander myself!”
    James hurried Davie along in the direction of their close, with Maggie Hunter running alongside them. “What are you doing, getting mixed in a fight?” he asked Davie sternly.
    Maggie spoke up. “Dinna blame him! It was because Tam Sweeney wouldna let Kirsty tak’ water from the well, and Davie knew his mother sore needed it.”
    James’s face softened.
    “I’ll be leaving ye noo,” Maggie said, skipping off in the direction of her own home.
    “Thank you for the way you helped me, Maggie,” Davie called after her.
    Kate Murray sat up in bed and cried at the sight of Davie’s bruised face.
    “It’s all right, Mother. It’ll look a lot better after I’ve washed it. You should see Tam Sweeney’s!” he could not help adding.
    Kirsty had told her mother of the cause of the fight. Kate, weakwith illness, began to weep. “Oh, why did we have to come to this terrible city? At Culmailie we did not have to live on bread earned by our children, nor stay in a dirty place like this one! There, a stream of pure water ran past our door, and we did not have to stand in a line to draw water from a muddy well. Our children were not set upon by brutes there. Oh, why did we ever leave Culmailie?”
    “Now, Kate, you know we had to leave,” James told her gently. “We had no choice. You’re sick and that’s why your heart fails you, my poor lass.”
    “James, will you take us back to the Highlands when I’m strong enough to go?” Kate begged him.
    “I’ll do what I can, lass, though there is no living for us in the Highlands, either,” James said, shaking his head in despair.
    It was then that the knock came at the door.

A Way is Found
    James Murray opened the door. In a flash his look of caution changed to one of welcome, and his hand was outstretched.
    “Why, it’s Donald Rae, no less!” he cried with joy. “Come in, man, come in! Ye’re right welcome.”
    The old drover stepped into the room. “My duty to you, Mistress Murray. My, but it’s sorry I am to see you in your bed! You look right ill, lassie.”
    “Aye, Kate has not thrown off a sickness to her chest. These Glasgow fogs have been over much for her,” James told him.
    “The bairns are a thought peelie-wallie too,” Rae remarked. “Ye’ll be missing the hills about Culmailie.”
    “Indeed we are, Mr Rae,” Kate said huskily.
    “How did you find us here?” James asked.
    Donald Rae looked rather pleased with himself. “Weel, man, I used my intelligence. Ye were brought up to go to church, so I thought I’d ask a minister or two if they kenned you. A Highland minister was the most likely.”
    “Mr McLaren of the Ingram Street Church!” James exclaimed.
    “Aye, I was lucky the first shot! He knew you, and what was more he had your address in that wee book o’ his, and when he knew why I was seeking ye, he gave it me willingly. Man, I have brought ye a letter and some money.”
    “A letter? Money? Is it from John at Dornoch?”
    “It is, indeed! He’s sold your furniture for ye, James, and he’s no’ done badly. It seems a lady in a big house took a fancy to that old blanket kist o’ yours, Mistress Murray. She gave John ten poundsfor it.”
    “Ten pounds for my kist that was so old!” Kate exclaimed.
    “Aye, mistress. It was because it was so old. An antique, she called it. He didna do badly wi’ your other furniture, either. Nineteen pounds altogether!”
    “With what the minister is holding for me, that’s thirty-nine pounds! Why, it’s riches!” James exclaimed.
    “In Glasgow it would melt like snow off a dyke and