And from that hour, the tootling of
the flageolet cheered our way.
He was particularly keen on the details of battles, single combats,
incidents of scouting parties, and the like. These he would make
haste to cap with some of the exploits of Wallace, the only hero
with whom he had the least acquaintance. His enthusiasm was
genuine and pretty. When he learned we were going to Scotland,
'Well, then,' he broke out, 'I'll see where Wallace lived!' And
presently after, he fell to moralising. 'It's a strange thing,
sir,' he began, 'that I seem somehow to have always the wrong sow
by the ear. I'm English after all, and I glory in it. My eye!
don't I, though! Let some of your Frenchies come over here to
invade, and you'll see whether or not! Oh, yes, I'm English to the
backbone, I am. And yet look at me! I got hold of this 'ere
William Wallace and took to him right off; I never heard of such a
man before! And then you came along, and I took to you. And both
the two of you were my born enemies! I--I beg your pardon, Mr.
Ramornie, but would you mind it very much if you didn't go for to
do anything against England'--he brought the word out suddenly,
like something hot--'when I was along of you?'
I was more affected than I can tell.
'Rowley,' I said, 'you need have no fear.
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