their days on earth were numbered. Some, by the stern
contraction of brow and lip, seemed to suggest that submission was the
last thought that would enter their minds, but not a few of the party
wore that look of patient endurance which is due to the influence of the
Spirit of God--not to mere human strength of mind and will. All seemed
to be famishing for want of food, while ragged clothes, shaggy beards,
hollow cheeks, and unkempt locks told eloquently of the long years of
bodily and mental suffering which had been endured under ruthless
persecution.

CHAPTER FIVE.

RISKS AND REFUGES.

Immediately on entering the cave in which this party of Covenanters had
found a temporary shelter, Will Wallace learned the reason of the large
supply of provisions which he and his comrade had carried.

"I've brought this for ye frae Andrew Black," said Quentin, taking the
wallet from his shoulder and presenting it to a man in clerical costume
who advanced to welcome him. "He thought ye might stand in need o'
victuals."

"Ever thoughtful of his friends; I thank him heartily," said the
minister, accepting the wallet--as also that handed to him by Wallace.
"Andrew is a true helper of the persecuted; and I thank the Lord who has
put it into his heart to supply us at a time when our provisions are
well-nigh exhausted. Our numbers have been unexpectedly increased by
the arrival of some of the unfortunates recently expelled from Lanark."

"From Lanark!" echoed Wallace as he glanced eagerly round on the forlorn
throng. "Can you tell me, sir, if a Mr. David Spence and a Mrs. Wallace
have arrived from that quarter?"

"I have not heard of them," returned the minister, as he emptied the
wallets and began to distribute their contents to those around
him.--"Ah, here is milk--I'm glad our friend Black thought of that, for
we have a poor dying woman here who can eat nothing solid. Here,
Webster, take it to her."

With a sudden sinking at the heart Wallace followed the man to whom the
milk had been given. Might not this dying woman, he thought, be his own
mother? True, he had just been told that no one with her name had yet
sought refuge there; but, there was a bare possibility and--anxiety does
not reason! As he crossed to a spot where several persons were bending
over a couch of straw, a tremendous clap of thunder shook the solid
walls of the cavern. This was immediately followed by a torrent of
rain, the plashing of which outsi