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Copyright © 2012, 2017 by Eleanor Hamer and Fernando Díez de Urdanivia

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without
the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in
critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Skyhorse
Publishing, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.

Skyhorse Publishing books may be purchased in bulk at special discounts for sales
promotion, corporate gifts, fund-raising, or educational purposes. Special editions
can also be created to specifications. For details, contact the Special Sales
Department, Skyhorse Publishing, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY
10018 or [email protected].

Skyhorse® and Skyhorse Publishing® are registered trademarks of Skyhorse

Publishing, Inc.®, a Delaware corporation.

Visit our website at www.skyhorsepublishing.com.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

Print ISBN: 978-1-5107-2536-2

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-5107-2537-9

Printed in the United States

Contents
About the Authors
About this Book
Symbols
Authors’ Acknowledgments

I. Expressions
A. Common Expressions in Spanish
1. Verbs
2. Expressions Used as Part of a Sentence (Non-Verbs)
3. Stand-alone Expressions
B. Common Expressions in English
1. Verbs
2. Expressions Used as Part of a Sentence
3. Stand-alone Expressions
C. Proverbs and Sayings
1. In Spanish
2. In English
II. Slang in Mexico
A. Common Slang Expressions
1. Verbs
2. Slang Expressions Used as Part of a Sentence (Non-Verbs)
3. Stand-alone Slang Expressions
B. Not for Polite Society
C. The Mexican Albur
III. False Cognates
A. Basic False Cognates
1. Spanish-English
2. English-Spanish
B. More False Cognates
1. Spanish-English
2. English-Spanish
C. Is It or Isn’t It?
1. Spanish-English
2. English-Spanish
D. Some Special Cases
E. It’s Not Always the Same …
IV. Grammar Hints
A. SER and ESTAR
B. PARA and POR; PERO and SINO
C. Dual Words
D. Some Dubious Accents
E. The Diminutive in Spanish
F. Abbreviations
G. Latin Words in Spanish
H. The Use of Prepositions
I. Homophones
J. Pronunciation
1. Consonants
2. The Pronunciation of Vowels
K. Spelling
L. The Infamous Subjunctive
1. Simple Tenses
2. Compound Tenses
3. Pluperfect Subjunctive
V. Living in Mexico
A. Polite Phrases
1. Introductions
2. Greetings
3. Leave-taking
4. Other Politenesses
B. Modes of Address
C. On the Telephone
D. Cultural Curiosities
1. Ways of Speaking
2. Pets and Animals
3. Manners Matter
4. ¡Buen Provecho!
5. Meal Times
6. El Abrazo
7. Dress
8. ¡Planta Baja!, Por Favor
9. Say It With Your Hands
10. The Greasing of the Palm
11. ¡Compadre!
12. Bargaining
13. Measurements
14. Surnames
15. ¿Tú or Usted?
16. Driving
17 Christmas
18. The Mexican Attitude Towards Death
E. Pre-Columbian Words
F. Mexican Food
G. Where Are You From?
VI. Latin American Construction Vocabulary
About the Authors

Born in Mexico to a British family, Eleanor Hamer’s professional life

began in Lima, Peru where she taught English as a second language
for four years at the Instituto Peruano-Norteamericano and the
Universidad de Lima. She then moved back to Mexico, where she
was made director of the Insurgentes branch of the Berlitz School
of Languages in Mexico City. A short time later, she became co-
owner and Director of Pennington Cultural Center, then Director
of the language laboratory at Ingenieros Civiles Asociados.
During the next few years, she wrote her first course in English as
a second language, and in 1975, she established Hamersharp, a
school for English as a second language designed for business
executives. There she developed the definitive and highly effective
course used successfully at the Hamersharp schools to this date.
She also wrote Writing Business English for the most advanced
students. Her aversion to administrative work led her to give up
running Hamersharp, and for the last 15 years, she has been the
official translator for Price Waterhouse (now
PricewaterhouseCoopers) in Mexico City.
Fernando Díez de Urdanivia is a graduate of the Carlos Septién
García school of journalism in Mexico. The son of a prominent
Mexican journalist, he has written for Excélsior, Novedades, El
Heraldo de México, El Día, and El Universal. He founded El Diario de
la Tarde de Novedades and for many years wrote for a wide variety
of Mexican magazines (including Hoy, Abside and Sembradores). In
1998 he was awarded the National Journalism Prize for his
interviews.
He has taught Spanish composition and literature at the Escuela
Carlos Septién García, the Universidad Motolinía, the Centro
de Estudios of the University of California in Mexico, the
Chicano Studies Center de Santa Barbara, California in México,
and the Instituto Cultural Hispano Mexicano, and was director of
the Centro de Estudios Periodísticos. He has also taught many
literary and creative writing workshops.
His published works include Mi historia secreta de la música, Cómo
hablan los que escriben (interviews with famous writers), Te doy mi
Palabra de Amor, Sabiduría en pocas líneas, En el umbral del milenio
(50 interviews each with prominent Mexicans over the age of 70)
and Dichas y dichos de la comida insólita de México (unknown food
of Mexico), Carlos del Castillo, Heraldo de Bach en México
(biography of the Mexican music teacher), Al final del camino and
Burocraterapia (short stories), as well as Cuento Modernista
Hispanoamericano (analysis of short stories during this period).
About this Book

This is not a textbook, but a very efficient reference book aimed at

filling the void that confronts people who already have a fairly good
knowledge of Spanish but can’t seem to progress beyond what they
learned in the classroom.
One of the most interesting portions of the book is the chapter
containing easy-to-understand details of words, phrases, expressions
and sayings of real-life Spanish as it is actually spoken in Latin
America. They are arranged in alphabetical order (according to the
English alphabet) and translated into English, with real-life examples
and explanations that help the reader grasp the true and complete
meaning. That chapter has a counterpart, based on the most
common expressions in English, with equivalents provided in
Spanish.
The pièce de résistance of this book is the chapter on the dreaded
false cognate, a source of so many embarrassing situations. There is
even a section where bad words are explained.
Symbols are used to provide information in a variety of ways,
including cautions such as for “slang” and for “very vulgar”.
They save a lot of guessing and cross checking.
All these elements give the student with the equivalent of what
they could otherwise gain only from years of living with
knowledgeable, educated Spanish-speaking people.
Far from offering up the usual collection of tedious theories, the
grammar chapter supplies useful clues, including an understanding
of the subjunctive voice, and the use of problematic words such as
para, por, pero and sino.
This book is concerned with other significant aspects of the
Spanish-speaking world as well. It explains the ins and outs of
customs, dress, food and other cultural differences that can make
life frustrating for the uninitiated. It includes a chapter to involve the
student in Mexican cultural peculiarities and explains Mexican food
and specific dishes with which the foreign visitor is usually unfamiliar
but which are found on practically all menus. It also contains a
unique (though discrete) explanation of the Mexican “albur”
(heretofore a mystery to non-native speakers of Spanish).
This book is the result of 30 years of experience and hard work.
Both co-authors are extremely well qualified. One is a native speaker
of English and the other a native speaker of Spanish. Both are
lifelong teachers of English and Spanish. This fact sets the book
apart and provides an unequalled assurance of its accuracy in
identifying the nuances, overtones and subtle meanings of real-life
Spanish.
Symbols

Person

Thing

Person or Thing

Literally

Used By Teenagers

Slang

Used Mainly in Mexico

Mildly Vulgar

Quite Vulgar

Very Vulgar
Authors’ Acknowledgments

The authors wish to thank and acknowledge the help of Luisa Ma.
Alvarez de Jaubert , Dr. Richard Barrutia , Eleanor Merino-Hamer,
María Martínez, Bárbara de los Reyes, Hilde Sotomayor, with very
special thanks to Carmen Bermejo, without whose skills this book
would never have become a reality.
 I
EXPRESSIONS

A. Common Expressions in Spanish

I
t is a well-known fact that structures vary from language to
language, sometimes to such an extent that the overall meaning
of a sentence or phrase may be utterly different from its component
parts. This is even more true of idiomatic expressions. It usually
takes years of living in a foreign country to master the structures
and idioms of its language. However, the following explanations will
probably go a long way to shorten this difficult process and make it
less painful.

Below are a few examples of normal Spanish construction which

demonstrate the absurdity of analyzing word for word.
Acabar de …
Acabar is “to finish” and de is “of”, but acabar de + verb is “to
have just finished ”.
Marta acaba de comer (desayunar) (cenar).
Marta just had lunch (breakfast) (dinner).
Acaban de empezar.
They just got started.
Dar con …
Dar is “to give” and con is “with”, but dar con is “to find” or “to
come up with ”.
No damos con el hotel.
 We can’t find the hotel.
Finalmente dimos con la solución.
We finally came up with the solution.
Hacer el papel …
This is literally “to make paper”, but means to “play a role”.
Él hace el papel del ciego.
He plays the role of the blind man.
No me gustó cómo hizo su papel.
I didn’t like the way she played her role.
=Por si acaso; por si + verb
Literally “for if perhaps”. It means “just in case”.
Lleva dinero, por si acaso.
Take some money, just in case.
Traje paraguas, por si llueve.
I brought an umbrella, just in case it rains.

Following is an assortment of interesting idiomatic expressions. As

can be seen, words don’t usually give much of an idea as to the
overall meaning. Section 1 contains expressions listed as verbs, as
they can be conjugated. Section 2 groups expressions that do not
stand alone but must be used as part of a sentence and Section 3
groups self-contained expressions (that stand alone).

All expressions are in alphabetical order, according to the English

language. Words in parentheses are not considered for alphabetical
purpose.

When the literal translation of an expression is interesting, it is

given, preceded by the symbol . Expressions used only in Mexico
have the symbol. Expressions marked cb are sometimes used also
by adults.

If you want to know the Spanish equivalent of an expression in

English, see Section B.
 1. VERBS
Abrir(se) de capa ( To open your cape)
To speak frankly and sincerely
Se abrió de capa cuando le pregunté acerca de mi
hijo.
He gave it to me straight when I asked him about my son.
Aguantar carros y carretas
To have the capacity to take a lot of negative acts or nonsense from

A veces tengo que aguantarles carros y carretas a

los latosos de mis parientes.
Sometimes I have to take a lot of nonsense from my
annoying relatives.
Alborotar el gallinero ( To get the chickens in a flap)
To get everyone in an uproar
No vayas a decir nada de los despidos proyectados.
No queremos alborotar el gallinero.
Don’t say anything about the projected layoffs. We don’t
want to get everyone in an uproar.
Aliviar(se)
To give birth
En este hospital se alivió Jimena.
Jimena gave birth in this hospital.
Andar
To be after (when used with “tras de ”)
Enrique anda tras Lucía.
Enrique is after Lucy.
To be doing
Ya me cansé de andar buscando trabajo.
I’m tired of looking for work.
To go steady (when used with “con ”)
¿Andas en serio con alguien?
Are you going steady with someone?

Note: Andar is often (incorrectly) used instead of estar in the

present progressive, as in the second example above, or in Ando
cocinando unos huevos, which should be Estoy cocinando
unos huevos (I am cooking some eggs).
Andar amolado(a)
To be in a bad way (as concerns money or health)
He andado amolado de dinero.
I’ve been in a bad way as concerns money.
Andar con el Jesús en la boca
To be distraught
La pobre Leonor anda con el Jesús en la boca.
Poor Leonor is distraught.
Andar(se) con rodeos
To beat around the bush
No te andes con rodeos. ¡Dímelo claro!
Don’t beat around the bush. Come right out with it!
Andar de boca en boca ( To go from mouth to mouth)
To be on everyone’s lips; to be the talk of the town.
Angélica anda de boca en boca.
Angelica is the talk of the town.
Andar de la ceca a la meca; Andar del tingo al tango
To go to a lot of places
Anduve de la ceca a la meca para encontrar lo que
quería.
I had to go to a million places to find what I wanted.
Andar del tingo al tango (see Andar de la ceca a la meca)
Andar de malas
To have a run of bad luck
No quiero correr riesgos ahorita. He andado de
malas.
I don’t want to take any chances. I have had a run of bad
luck.
Andar (estar) en las nubes ( To be in the clouds)
To be on cloud nine; to be (mentally) somewhere else
(daydreaming)
Desde que lo aceptó Adriana, José Luis anda en las
nubes.
Jose Luis has been on cloud nine ever since Adriana agreed
to go steady with him.
¡Muchacho! Atiende a la clase. ¡Estás en las nubes!
Hey kid! Pay attention in class! You are daydreaming!
Andar giro(a) (girito(a))
To be still going strong
A sus ochenta y siete años, nuestra abuela todavía
anda muy girita.
Our grandmother is still going strong at 87.
Andar norteado(a)
To be disoriented
Todavía ando norteado. Apenas llevo dos días en
esta ciudad.
I’m still disoriented. I’ve only been in this city for two days.
Armar(se) la gorda
To start a fight
Se puso agresivo y armó la gorda en el bar.
He got nasty and started a fight in the bar.
Si nos siguen provocando, aquí se va a armar la
gorda.
If they keep picking on us, there’s going to be a fight.
Barajar(la) (más) despacio ( To shuffle more slowly)
To explain more slowly.
Perdón, no entiendo nada. Barájamela más despacio.
Sorry, I didn’t get that. Explain it again more slowly.
Brillar por su ausencia ( To shine by your absence)
To be very conspicuously absent
En la boda, Dolores brilló por su ausencia.
Everybody noticed that Dolores wasn’t at the wedding.
Buscarle ruido al chicharrón ( To poke the chicharrón until
it makes a noise); Buscarle tres pies al gato
To ask for it; To burn the candle at both ends; To look for trouble
Si no sigues las reglas de esta casa, le estás
buscando ruido al chicharrón (le estás buscando tres
pies al gato).
If you don’t follow the rules of the house, you are looking
for trouble.
Caer al pelo
To be just the thing; to be just what one wants or needs
El cinturón que me regalaste me cayó al pelo.
The belt you gave me was just what I wanted.
Caer bien (o mal)*
To like
Elisa me cae muy bien.
I really like Elisa.
Arturo no me cae bien (Arturo me cae mal).
I don’t like Arturo.
When one is speaking of food, this expression means “it goes down
well.” When mal is used instead of bien, the meaning is the
opposite.
El chocolate me cae mal.
Chocolate doesn’t agree with me.
El consomé le cae bien a uno cuando está enfermo.
Broth goes down well when one is sick.
Note: In English, the subject used with the verb “to like” is the
person who experiences the feeling of liking or affection. In Spanish,
the subject is the person who is the object of that liking or affection.
Caer como cubeta de agua fría ( To fall on like a bucket
of cold water)
To astonish; to stun
La noticia me cayó como cubeta de agua fría.
The news stunned me.
Calentar(le) la cabeza a ( To heat up ’s head)
To prejudice against or
Efrén le calentó la cabeza a Carlos para que acusara
a José.
Efren got Carlos all worked up so he would accuse Jose.
Cargar con el muerto ( To carry the body)
To be blamed for
Arnulfo tuvo que cargar con el muerto por lo que
pasó en la fiesta.
Arnulfo got all the blame for what happened at the party.
Chupar(se) el dedo ( To suck your thumb)
To be born yesterday
No me vengas con ese cuento. No me chupo el dedo,
¿sabes?
Don’t give me that story. I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.
Colgar(se) de la lámpara (see Poner el grito en el cielo)
Comer ansias ( To eat anxiety)
To be anxious or fidgety
No hay prisa. Tómalo con calma. No comas ansias.
There is no hurry. Take it easy. Calm down.
Por andar comiendo ansias, me salió todo mal.
Everything went wrong because I was in such a nervous
state.
Comer(se) con los ojos a
To stare longingly at
Juan se la estaba comiendo con los ojos.
Juan was staring at her longingly.
Correr como reguero de pólvora ( To spread like a trail of
burning gunpowder)
To spread like wildfire; to travel like lightning
La noticia corrió como reguero de pólvora.
The news spread like wildfire.
Correr por cuenta de
To be on
Las siguientes copas corren por mi cuenta.
The next round is on me.
To see to it that …
De mi cuenta corre que no lograrán embargarte.
I’ll see to it that you’re not sued.
Costar (mucho) trabajo (see Dar trabajo)
To be very difficult
Me costó mucho trabajo ser amable con Julio.
It was very difficult to speak to Julio politely.
Creer(se) la divina garza ( To consider yourself the divine
stork)
To think a lot of yourself; to be conceited
Elena se cree la divina garza porque la escogieron
para hacer el comercial.
Elena thinks she’s God’s gift to this world because she was
chosen to do the commercial.
Creer(se) la gran cosa
To think a lot of oneself; to be conceited
Chucho se cree la gran cosa porque está en el
equipo.
Chucho has a big head because he’s on the team.
Dar a luz ( To give (a baby) the light)
To give birth
Mi cuñada dio a luz unos mellizos preciosos.
My sister-in-law had darling twins.
Dar(le) al clavo
To hit the nail on the head
Aurelio le dio al clavo con su respuesta.
Aurelio hit the nail on the head with his answer.
Dar(le) ánimo(s) a
To give moral support or courage.
El güisquito me dio ánimo para entrar a hablar con el
director.
That whiskey gave me the courage to go in and talk to the
director.
To encourage
¿Cómo puedes seguir manejando después
Speaker A: del accidente?
How can you go on driving after the accident?
Gracias a Gloria, que siempre me da
ánimos.
Speaker B:
Thanks to Gloria. She always encourages me
and makes me feel brave.
In the negative “dar ánimos” is a sarcastic way of saying “I really
appreciate your support”.
Te noto muy demacrado.
Speaker A:
You look very wan.
¡No me des ánimos!
Speaker B:
Flattery will get you nowhere.
Dar(le) atole con el dedo a ( To feed gruel with your
finger)
To take advantage of 's innocence
Sospecho que Carmen te está dando atole con el
dedo.
I suspect Carmen is not playing fair with you.
 Dar batería
To give a good go; to put up a fight
Te gané muy fácilmente. No me diste batería.
I beat you hands down. You didn’t really try.
To satisfy sexually
¿Crees que ese viejito le da batería a su mujer?
Do you suppose that old man satisfies his wife in bed?
Dar(le) coba a
To butter up
Esa muchacha siempre le está dando coba a la
maestra.
That girl is always buttering up the teacher.
Dar color
To pay for
Yo pagué la vez pasada; a ver si hoy das color.
I paid last time. It’s your turn to pay.
To take sides; to be clear
Ernesto no da color en el problema de la herencia.
Ernesto takes no sides in this business of the inheritance.
Lalo, eres muy aguado. Ni pintas, ni das color.
Lalo, you’re so wishy-washy. You can’t decide one way or the
other.
Dar(le) con la puerta en las narices a
To slam the door in 's face (literally or figuratively)
Se enojó mucho y me dio con la puerta en las
narices.
He got really upset and slammed the door in my face.
Dar(se) cuenta de ; Dar(se) cuenta de que …
To notice (that …)
Me di cuenta del error demasiado tarde.
I noticed the mistake too late.
To realize (that …)
 ¿No te das cuenta de que estás haciendo una
tontería?
Don’t you realize that what you’re doing is not very bright?
Dar(le) cuerda a ( To wind up)
To egg on; to encourage ; to humor
Rosendo siempre dice tonterías y Amalia siempre le
da cuerda.
Rosendo always talks nonsense, and Amalia always eggs
him on.
¡Por amor de Dios, no le des cuerda!
For God’s sake, don’t encourage him!
Dar(se) cuerda solo(a) ( To wind yourself up)
To work yourself up, to get carried away
Desde que murió su mujer, Jorge se está dando
cuerda solo.
Since his wife died, Jorge’s been working himself into a real
depression.
Dar(selas) de
To pretend to be you are not
Manuel se las da de arquitecto.
Manuel always passes himself off as an architect.
Dar de alta
To register; to sign up; to put on the payroll, etc. (except in a
hospital, where dar de alta is to discharge a patient)
Si vas a trabajar, tienes que darte de alta en
Hacienda.
If you’re going to start working, you have to register as a
taxpayer at the Treasury Department.
Estas dos muchachas aún no están dadas de alta en
la nueva escuela.
These two girls still haven’t been registered at the new
school.
Ya llevo tres semanas trabajando aquí, y todavía no
me dan de alta.
 I’ve been working here for three weeks, and I still haven’t
been put on the payroll.
Hijo, hay que dar de alta el coche nuevo.
Son, we have to register the new car.
Doctor, ¿cuándo me dan de alta? Ya me quiero ir a
casa.
Doctor, when will I be discharged from the hospital? I want
to go home.
Dar de baja
To take off the registry, list, payroll, etc.
Me dieron de baja en el club cuando renuncié a la
compañía.
When I quit my job, they cancelled my club membership.
Dar de botana
To put out to munch on
Nos dieron de botana aceitunas rellenas.
They gave us stuffed olives to munch on.
Dar de comer a
To feed
¿Ya le diste de comer a los niños?
Have the children eaten (been fed)?
A esta hora siempre le da de comer al pollo.
She always feeds the chicken at this time.
Dar(se) el lujo de + verb ( To give yourself the luxury of +
verb)
To be able to afford to + verb (not always connected with money)
No puedo darme el lujo de pelearme con mi jefe.
I can’t afford to quarrel with my boss.
Dar(le) en la torre a ( To hit on the tower)
To do terrible to
Por confiado, ya te dieron en la torre.
You got taken because you’re too trusting.
Dar(le) en qué pensar a
To give food for thought
Su actitud nos dio a todos mucho en qué pensar.
His attitude gave us all food for thought.
Dar ganas de (see Tener ganas)
To be appealing; to feel like
Con este calor dan ganas de meterse a nadar.
With this heat, you feel like getting into the pool.
Dar gato por liebre ( To give a purchaser a cat instead of a
hare)
To deceive , especially when referring to a purchase at the market.
No estoy seguro, pero creo que me dieron gato por
liebre.
I’m not sure, but I think I was taken for a ride (I was
deceived).
Dar(se) ínfulas (see Ser presumido)
To put on airs
Esa señora se da muchas ínfulas porque tiene título.
That woman puts on airs because she has a college degree.
Dar lástima (see Dar pena)
Dar lata
To bother ; to be a pain
Este coche da mucha lata.
This car is giving me a lot of trouble.
La casera siempre está dando lata (es una latosa).
The landlady is always bugging me (she’s a pain).
Dar mala espina ( To give a bad thorn)
To give a nasty feeling; to make suspicious
Su tardanza en resolver me da mala espina.
His delay in replying to my request makes me suspicious.
Dar patadas de ahogado ( To thrash around uselessly in
the water when you’ll drown anyway)
To fight a losing battle
 Vicente, no pierdas el tiempo resistiéndote al
divorcio. Son patadas de ahogado.
Vincent, don’t waste your time trying to avoid the divorce.
You’re fighting a losing battle.
Dar pena; dar lástima
To (make ) feel sorry for
Con tu modo de ser lograste que Irma te cortara; me
das pena. (This is offensive; said in sympathy, this would
be ¡Qué lástima! or ¡Qué pena!)
You are such a pain that Irma finally dropped you. I feel
sorry for you.
To feel embarrassed
Me da pena pedirle dinero.
I feel embarrassed (I’m too timid) to ask her to lend me
some money.
Dar(se) por ofendido(a)
To take offense
Hernán se dio por ofendido porque no aceptaron su
propuesta.
Hernan took offense because his proposal was turned down.
Dar(le) por su lado a (see Seguirle la corriente a )
To humor , to go along with
Tu abuelo ya está viejo. No discutas con él. Dale por
su lado para que no se enoje.
Your grandfather is old. Don’t argue with him. Humor him so
he doesn’t get upset.
Gloria le da por su lado a su marido para conservar
la armonía.
Gloria goes along with everything her husband says just to
keep the peace.
Dar(se) por vencido(a)
To give up
 No he logrado conseguir suficiente dinero para el
proyecto, pero me doy por vencido.
I haven’t been able to raise all the money for the project,
but I’m not giving up.
Dar(le) sabor al caldo ( To give the broth some taste)
To make things interesting
Las peripecias del viaje fueron las que le dieron
sabor al caldo.
The unexpected things that happened on the trip were what
made it interesting.
Dar trabajo (see Con trabajo(s) and Costar (mucho) trabajo)
To be difficult
Da mucho trabajo limpiar este piso.
It’s a pain getting this floor clean.
Dar(se) una vuelta ( To give yourself a turn)
To visit; to drop in; to drop by
¿Cuándo van a estar listos los zapatos?
Speaker A:
When will the shoes be ready?
Dése una vuelta el martes.
Speaker B:
Drop by on Tuesday.
Me voy a dar una vuelta por casa de Lola esta noche.
I’m going to drop in on Lola tonight.
Dar(le) un norte a
To give directions to get somewhere or to do
No sé por dónde llegar. Dame un norte.
I don’t know how to get there. Give me a pointer (some
help).
Dar un plantón a ( To plant ) (see Dejar plantado)
To stand up or to keep waiting
A Cosme le dieron un plantón de dos horas.
Cosme was stood up for two hours (was made to wait for
two hours).
Dar(le) vuelta a la tortilla ( To turn the tortilla over)
To give a rest; to forget it
Chema, no sigas disgustado. Ya dale vuelta a la
tortilla.
Chema, don’t be upset anymore. Give it a rest.
Dar(le) vueltas (a una idea) ( To turn an idea over and
over)
To think over carefully; to consider a project
Mario le está dando muchas vueltas al plan.
Mario is really giving a lot of thought to the plan.
Decir(le) hasta la despedida a
To tell off in no uncertain terms; to let have it
Si lo sigues fastidiando, te va a decir hasta la
despedida.
If you keep on bugging him, he’s really going to let you have
it.
Dejar a la buena de Dios
To leave to chance; to neglect
Estos irresponsables muchachos dejan todo a la
buena de Dios.
These irresponsible kids just leave everything to chance
(neglect their responsibilities).
Dejar con un palmo de narices a (see Quedar(se) con un
palmo de narices)
To thumb your nose at ; to give the brush off
Luisa dejó a Jaime con un palmo de narices.
Luisa gave Jaime the brush-off.
Dejar chiflando en la loma a
To pay no attention to
No vino ninguno de mis amigos a ayudarme; me
dejaron chiflando en la loma.
None of the friends I invited came to help me; they just left
me to my own devices.
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had made him pay for having dared to show compassion to those
whom they pursued. It was singular.
Unconsciously Ewen was back in the dungeon again, seeing the
Englishman’s troubled face, hearing his voice as it asked him why he
had put him in mind of the forgotten penknife . . .
And then Keith Windham’s face and voice were blotted out in an
instant by a thought which made him draw a long breath and clutch
the sorrel’s mane almost convulsively. He had something better than
a blunt penknife on his person at this very moment, and now, now
that his arms were untied, he could perhaps get it into his hand. For
the last hour he had completely forgotten the girl’s sgian in his
stocking; and indeed, until recently it might as well not have been
there. But now, if he could draw it out unobserved . . .
And then? Rags of a wild, a desperate plan began to flutter
before his eyes. And only here, by the Spean, could the plan be put
into execution, because, High Bridge once crossed, it was all open
moorland to Fort William. Only by the Spean, racing along between
its steep, thickly wooded banks, was there a chance of shelter, if one
could gain it. It was a mad scheme, and would very likely result in his
being shot dead, but, if they stopped at the little change-house on
the other side of Spean, as they surely would, he would risk that.
Better to die by a bullet than by the rope and the knife. How his body
would carry out the orders of his brain he did not know; very ill,
probably, to judge from his late experiences. Yet, as he hastily
plotted out what he would do, and every moment was carried nearer
to High Bridge, Ewen had an illusory feeling of vigour; but he knew
that he must not show it. On the contrary, his present partially
unbound condition being due to his recent only too real faintness, he
must continue to simulate what for the moment he no longer felt. If
only the faintness did not come on again in earnest!
Here was the Spean in its ravine, and here the narrow bridge
reared on its two arches, its central pier rising from a large rock in
the river-bed. They clattered over it, three abreast. The bridge was
invisible, as Ewen knew, when one was fairly up the other side,
because the approach was at so sharp an angle, and the trees so
thick. And as they went up that steep approach the trees seemed
even thicker than he remembered them. If Spean did not save him,
nothing could.
The change-house came into view above them, a little low
building by the side of the road, and for a moment the prisoner knew
an agonising doubt whether the escort were going to halt there after
all. Yes, thank God, they were! Indeed, it would have been
remarkable had they passed it.
The moment the troopers stopped it was evident how little they
considered that their prisoner needed guarding now; it was very
different from the care which they had bestowed in this particular at
Laggan. Drink was brought out; nearly all swung off their horses, and
broke into jests and laughter among themselves. Ewen’s all but
collapse of a few miles back, his real and evident exhaustion now,
served him as nothing else could have done. Realising this, he let
himself slide slowly farther over his horse’s neck as though he could
scarcely sit in the saddle at all; and in fact this manœuvre called for
but little dissimulation.
And at that point the trooper who had charge of his reins, a young
man, not so boisterous as the others, was apparently smitten with
compassion. His own half-finished chopin in his hand, he looked up
at the drooping figure. “You’d be the better of another drink, eh?
Shall I fetch you one?”
Not quite sure whether this solicitude was to his advantage,
Ewen intimated that he would be glad of a cup of water. The dragoon
finished his draught, tossed the reins to one of his fellows, and
sauntered off. But the other man was too careless or too much
occupied to catch the reins, and they swung forward below the
sorrel’s head, free. This was a piece of quite unforeseen good luck.
Ewen’s head sank right on to his horse’s crest; already his right
hand, apparently dangling helpless, had slipped the little black knife
out of his stocking; now he was able unsuspected to reach the rope
round his right ankle. . . . Five seconds, and it was cut through, and
the next instant his horse was snorting and rearing from a violent
prick with the steel. The dismounted men near scattered
involuntarily; Ewen reached forward, caught a rein, turned the horse,
and, before the startled troopers in the least realised what was
happening, was racing down the slope and had disappeared in the
thick fringe of trees about the bridge.
The sorrel was so maddened that to slip off before he reached
the bridge, as he intended, was going to be a matter of difficulty, if
not of danger. But it had to be done; he threw himself across the
saddle and did it. As he reached ground he staggered and fell,
wrenching his damaged thigh, but the horse continued its wild career
across the bridge and up the farther slope as he had designed.
Ewen had but a second or two in which to pick himself up and lurch
into the thick undergrowth of the gorge ere the first of a stream of
cursing horsemen came tearing down the slope. But, as he hoped,
having heard hoof-beats on the bridge, they all went straight over it
in pursuit of the now vanished horse, never dreaming that it was
riderless.
Once they were over Ewen cut away the trailing rope from his
other ankle, pocketed it, and started to plunge on as fast as he could
among the birch and rowan trees, the moss-covered stones and the
undergrowth of Spean side. He was fairly sure that he was invisible
from above, though not, perhaps, from the other side, if and when
the troopers returned. But the farther from the bridge the better. His
breath came in gasps, the jar of throwing himself off the horse had
caused him great pain and made him lamer than ever, and at last he
was forced to go forward on his hands and knees, dragging his
injured leg after him. But as he went he thought how hopeless it was;
how the dragoons would soon overtake the horse, or see from a
distance that he was no longer on its back, and, returning, would
search along the river bank and find him. And he could not possibly
go much farther, weak and out of condition as he was, with the sweat
pouring off him, and Spean below seeming to make a noise much
louder than its diminished summer clamour.
Thus crawling he finally came up against a huge green boulder,
and the obstacle daunted him. He would stop here . . . just round the
farther side. He dragged himself round somehow, and saw that what
he had thought to be one stone was two, leaning together. He tried
to creep into the dark hollow between them, a place like the tomb,
but it was too narrow for his breadth of shoulder. So he sank down
by it, and lay there with his cheek to the damp mould, and wondered
whether he were dying. Louder and louder roared the Spean below,
and he somehow was tossing in its stream. Then at least he could
die in Scotland after all. Best not to struggle . . . best to think that he
was in Alison’s arms. She would know how spent he was . . . and
how cold . . . The brawling of the river died away into darkness.
 CHAPTER II

When Ewen came fully to himself again it was night, the pale
Highland summer night; he could not guess the hour. He had not
been discovered, then! He lay listening; there was no sound
anywhere save the rushing of the river below him, nothing to tell him
whether the troopers had returned or no. But now was undoubtedly
the time to quit his lair and get back over the bridge and along the
short but dangerous stretch of high road, until he could leave it and
make for the river Lochy. When he had forded Lochy and was on the
other side of the Great Glen he would be safer.
Alas, the next few minutes implanted in him a horrible doubt
whether he would ever ford Lochy, seeing that between the
swimming head of exhaustion and the twist which he had given his
damaged leg in throwing himself off the horse he could scarcely
even stand, much less walk. And although the people up at the
change-house, almost within call were, unless they had been
removed, of a Cameron sept, he dared not risk attracting their
attention, for a double reason: soldiers, his own escort or others from
Fort William, might very well halt there; and to shelter him would
probably in any case be disastrous to the poor folk themselves.
His prospects did not seem too bright. All his hope was that he
might feel more vigorous after a little more of this not very
comfortable rest. Huddled together on his side under the lee of the
boulder, to get what shelter he could from the soft, misty rain which
he felt rather than saw, he said a prayer and fell into the sleep of the
worn-out.
He was wakened by a strange, sharp noise above him, and the
sensation of something warm and damp passing over his face. Stiff
and bewildered, he opened his eyes and saw in the now undoubted,
though misty daylight, the author of these two phenomena, an
agitated sheepdog, of a breed unknown to him. As he raised himself
on an elbow the dog gave another excited bark, and immediately
darted away up the tree-grown bank.
 So numbed and exhausted was the fugitive that it took him a few
seconds to realise that he was discovered. But by whom? Not by
soldiers, certainly; nor could that be the dog from the change-house.
He dragged himself into a sitting posture, got his back against the
boulder, pulled the little black knife, his only resource, from his
stocking, and waited.
Feet were coming down the steep bank, and soon two men could
be seen plunging through the birch and alder, shouting to each other
in an unfamiliar accent; in front of them plunged and capered the
sheepdog, with its tail held high, and Ewen heard a loud hearty voice
saying, “Clivver lass—aye, good bitch th’art indeed! See-ye, yon’s
rebel, Jan!” He reflected, “I can kill the dog, but what good would that
do me? Moreover I have no wish to.” And as the intelligent creature
came bounding right up to him, wagging a friendly tail, and
apparently proud of its accomplishment in having found him, he held
out his left hand in invitation. The dog sniffed once, and then licked
it.
“See thon!” cried the former voice. “Dang it, see Lassie so
freendly and all!”
“Yet you had best not come too near!” called Ewen threateningly.
“I am armed!” He raised his right hand.
The larger of the men, pushing through an alder bush, instantly
lifted a stout cudgel. “If thou harmst t’ bitch—— Coom here, Lassie!”
“No, I will not harm her,” said Ewen, fending off the dog’s
demonstrations with his other arm. “But call her off; I owe her no
gratitude.”
“For foindin’ thee, thou meanst,” supplied Lassie’s owner. “Aye,
thou’st the fellow that gie t’ sogers the slip yesterday; we heerd all
aboot thee oop at t’ little hoose yonder. Eh, but thou’rt a reet smart
lad!” There was genuine admiration in his tone. “’Twere smart ti hide
thee here, so near an’ all, ’stead o’ gooin’ ower t’ brig—eh, Jan?”
“Main smart,” agreed the smaller man. “Too smart fur th’
redcoats, Ah lay!”
The smart lad, very grim in the face, and rather grey to boot, sat
there against his boulder with the sgian clutched to his breast, point
outwards, and eyed the two men with a desperate attention, as they
stood a little way higher up amid the tangle of bushes, stones and
protruding tree-roots, and looked at him. They had the appearance
of well-to-do farmers, particularly the larger, who was a tremendously
burly and powerful man with a good-tempered but masterful
expression. The smaller was of a more weazened type, and older.
“See-thee, yoong man,” said the burly stranger suddenly, “’tis no
manner o’ use ti deny that thou’rt one of these danged Highland
rebels, seein’ we’s heerd all the tale oop yonder.”
Ewen’s breath came quickly. “But I’ll not be retaken without
resistance!”
“Who says we be gooin’ ti taake thee? Happen we’ve summut
else ti moind. Coom here, Lassie, wilt thou! Dunnot be so freendly tiv
a chap wi’ a knife in his hand!”
“I tell you the dog has nothing to fear from me,” repeated Ewen.
“See then!” And on a sudden impulse he planted the sgian in the
damp soil beside him and left it sticking there.
“Ah, that’s reet, yoong man—that’s jannock!” exclaimed the large
stranger in evident approval and relief. “Happen we can ’ev some
clack together noo. Hoo dost thou rackon ti get away fra this tod’s
den o’ thine?”
Here, quite suddenly, the little man began to giggle. “He, he!
maakes me laugh to think of it—t’ sogers chasing reet away ower t’
brig and Lord knaws wheer beyond! They nivver coom back, so t’
folk oop yonder tells.”
“Aye, a good tale to tell when we gan back ower Tyne,” agreed
the large man, shaking gently with a more subdued mirth. And as
Ewen, for his part, realised that the reference to Tyne must mean
that the strangers were English, though he could not imagine what
they were doing in Lochaber, this large one burst into a great
rumbling upheaval of laughter, causing the sheepdog to bark in
sympathy.
“Quiet, lass!” commanded her master, making a grab at her. “Thy
new freend here has no wish for thy noise, Ah’ll lay.” He looked
straight at the fugitive sitting there. “Hadn’t thee best get thee gone,
lad, before ’tis onny loighter?” he asked.
Was the man playing with him, or was he genuinely friendly?
Ewen’s heart gave a great bound. A momentary mist passed before
his eyes. When it cleared the large man was stooping over him, a
bottle in his hand.
“Thoo’rt nigh clemmed, lad, or ma name’s not Robert Fosdyke.
Here’s t’ stuff for thee—reet Nantes. Tak’ a good soop of it!”
The fiery spirit ran like lightning through Ewen’s cramped limbs.
“Why . . . why do you treat me so kindly?” he gasped, half stupid
between the brandy and astonishment, as he returned the bottle.
“You are English, are you not? Why do you not give me up?”
Mr. Fosdyke, who had now seated himself on a large stone near,
struck his knee with some vehemence. “Ah’ll tell thee whoy! First,
because t’ bitch here foond thee and took ti thee, and thou didna
stick yon knife o’ thine intiv her—but Ah’d ’ev driven in thy skool if
thou hadst . . . second, because thou’rt a sharp lad and a bold one,
too; and last because Ah’ve seen and heerd tell o’ things yonder at
Fort Augustus, wheer we went ti buy cattle, that Ah ’evn’t loiked at
all. No, Ah didn’t loike what Ah heerd of goings on.—Aye, and
foorthly, t’ cattle was woorth danged little when we’d gotten ’em; all t’
best were sold awready.”
Ewen knew what cattle they would be; the one possession of
many a poor Highland home, as well as the herds of the gentry. He
remembered now having heard that some of the many thousands
collected from Lochaber and Badenoch were sold to English and
Lowland dealers. Apparently, then, these men were on their way
south through Glencoe and Breadalbane with such as they had
bought, and now he knew why once or twice during this conversation
he had fancied that he heard sounds of lowing at no great distance.
“I wonder if mine are all gone!” he said half to himself.
“Thou hadst cattle of thy own, lad?” enquired Mr. Fosdyke. “If
thou canst see onny o’ thine among oors oop there thou shalt have
them back again—and that’s none so generous as thou medst think,
for there’s some Ah’d as soon give away as drive all t’ waay ower t’
Border.”
Ewen gave a weak laugh. “What should I do with cattle now? I
cannot get home myself, much less drive cattle there.”
“And whoy canst thou not get home, when thou’st put summut in
thy belly?” asked the Yorkshireman.
 Ewen told him why he should find it difficult, if not impossible, and
why he dared not go to the change-house either. The farmer
pronounced that he was right in the latter course, and then made the
astonishing suggestion that ‘Jan Prescott here’ should run up to the
house and bring the fugitive something to eat and drink. “Dunnot say
who ’tis for, Jan; say Ah’ve a moind ti eat by river, if thou loikes.” And
while Jan, with amazing docility, removed the birch twig which he
had been twisting between his lips and betook himself up the bank,
his companion questioned Ewen further as to the direction of his
home.
“T’ other soide of t’ other river? T’ other river’s nobbut a couple of
moiles away . . . Tell thee what, lad,” he exclaimed, slapping himself
once more, “Ah’ll tak thee as far as t’ river on one of t’ nags. Happen
thou canst sit a horse still?”
“Take me there!” Ewen could only stare in amazement.
“Aye. And when thou’st gotten to this river o’ thine, hoo medst
thou cross it; happen there’s brig, or ferry?”
“No, there is a ford. The ford by which we all . . .” His voice died
away. How long ago it seemed, that elated crossing last August after
Glenfinnan!
“And when thou’rt on t’ other soide?” pursued Mr. Fosdyke.
“I’ll reach my home somehow, if I have to crawl there.”
“And who’lt thou foind theer—thy parents?”
“My aunt, who brought me up. My parents are dead.”
“No wife nor childer?”
“My wife is in France.” And why he added, “We were only married
two days before parting,” Ewen did not know.
“Poor lad,” said Mr. Fosdyke. “Whoy didstna stop at home loike a
wise man?”
Ewen, his head resting against the boulder, said, “That I could not
do,” his eyes meanwhile fixed on the form of Mr. Jan Prescott,
already descending the slope with a tankard in his hand and two
large bannocks clasped to his person. Mr. Fosdyke turned and hailed
him, and in another moment Ewen had started upon the bannocks,
finding that he was famished, having tasted nothing solid since the
halt at Laggan yesterday morning. And while he ate Mr. Robert
Fosdyke unfolded his intention to his companion, who raised no
objection, except to remark, “Happen thou’lt meet redcoats on t’
road.”
“Ah shall say t’ lad’s a drover o’ mine, then.”
“In yon petticoat thing?” queried Mr. Prescott, pointing at Ewen’s
kilt.
“He shall have thy great-coat ti cover him oop.”
“Ah dunno hoo he’ll get intiv it, then,” returned Mr. Prescott. “See
ye, Robert, Ah’d sooner he had a horse blanket than split ma coat.”
“He can have t’ loan of ma coat then,” said Mr. Fosdyke. “He’ll not
split that.—Beasts all reet oop there?” he enquired.
“As reet as ivver they’ll be,” returned his partner with gloom.
“Ah knawed as we peed too mooch for them,” growled Mr.
Fosdyke in a voice like subterranean thunder. “Goviment notice
saays—well, nivver moind what, but ’twere main different fra what t’
cattle were loike. Hooivver, Ah weren’t comin’ all the way fra t’ other
soide o’ York for nowt.”
“York?” asked Ewen with his mouth full, since this information
seemed addressed to him. “You come from York, sir.”
“Fra near by. Dost thou knaw the toon?”
“No,” said Ewen.
“T’ sogers werena takin’ thee there yistiday?”
“It was Carlisle that I was going to in the end.”
“Ah!” said Mr. Fosdyke comprehendingly. “But some poor devils
are setting oot for York, too, we hear. Thou’s best coom along wi’
us.” And giving his great laugh he began to embroider his pleasantry.
“Thou doesna loike the notion? Whoy not? York’s a foine toon, Ah
can tell thee, and more gates tiv it for setting rebels’ heads on than
Carlisle. Ah lay we have a row o’ them ower Micklegate Bar come
Christmas. And thou’st not wishful ti add thine?”
Ewen shook the imperilled head in question with a smile.
“No,” agreed Mr. Fosdyke, “best keep it ti lay on t’ pillow besoide
they wife’s. If she’s in France, then thou’rt not a poor man, eh?”
“I am what you call a gentleman,” replied Ewen, “though I expect
that I am poor enough now.”
“If thou’rt a gentleman,” pronounced Mr. Fosdyke, “then thou dost
reet ti keep away fra York and Carlisle, aye, and fra Lunnon, too.—
Noo, Jan, we’ll gan and see aboot t’ nags. Thou medst bide here,
lad. Come on, Lassie.”
With tramplings and cracklings they were gone, dog and all, and,
but for the yet unfinished food and drink, which were putting new life
into Ewen, the whole encounter might have been a dream. As he
waited there for their return he wondered whether Alison’s prayers
had sent these good angels, which, to his simple and straightforward
faith, seemed quite likely.
Presently the larger of the angels came back and helped him
along the slope to the scene of his exploit at the bridge. Here was
the satellite Jan with two stout nags, a flea-bitten grey and a black. A
long and ample coat (certainly not Mr. Prescott’s) was provided for
the Jacobite. “If thou wert clothed like a Christian there’d ha’ been no
need for this,” said Mr. Fosdyke with frankness as he helped him into
it; and then, the difficulty of getting into the saddle surmounted,
Ewen found himself half incredulously riding behind the broad back
of his benefactor over the brawling Spean, in his hand a stout cattle
goad to assist his steps when he should be on his feet again.
In the two miles before they came to the river Lochy they had the
luck to meet no one. There the clouds hung so low that the other
side of the Great Glen was scarcely visible. When they came to the
ford Ewen pulled up and made to dismount. But Mr. Fosdyke caught
him by the arm. “Nay, if thou canst scarce walk on land, Ah doot
thou’ll walk thruff water! Daisy will tak thee ower. Coom on, mare.”
The two horses splashed placidly through in the mist. On the
other side Ewen struggled off, and got out of the coat.
“I cannot possibly recompense you, Mr. Fosdyke,” he began,
handing it up to him.
“If thou offer me money,” said Mr. Fosdyke threateningly, “danged
if Ah don’t tak thee back ti wheer Ah foond thee!”
“You can be reassured,” said Ewen, smiling, “for I have none. But
in any case, money does not pass between gentlemen for a service
like this. I only pray God that you will not suffer for it.”
“Ah’d loike ti see the mon that’s going ti mak me,” was the
Yorkshireman’s reply. “And Ah feel noo as Ah’ve got even wi’
Goviment in t’ matter of t’ cattle,” he added with immense
satisfaction. “And thou think’st me a gentleman? Well, Ah’m nobbut a
farmer, but Ah’m mooch obliged ti thee for the compliment.” He
shook Ewen’s hand. “Good luck ti thee, ma lad. . . . If thou lived a
few hoondred moiles nearer, danged if Ah wouldna gie thee a pup o’
Lassie’s—but thou’rt ower far away, ower far!” He chuckled, caught
the bridle of the grey, and the eight hoofs could be heard splashing
back through the ford. Then silence settled down again, silence, and
the soft folds of mist; and after a moment Ewen, leaning heavily on
his goad, began his difficult pilgrimage.

Twenty-four hours later, very nearly at the end of his tether, he

was hobbling slowly along the last mile of that distance which
ordinarily he could have covered between one meal and the next. So
slow and painful had been his progress, and with such frequent
halts, that it had been late afternoon before he reached Loch Arkaig.
And there he had seen the pitiful charred remains left by vengeance
of Lochiel’s house of Achnacarry, almost as dear to him as his own.
In that neighbourhood above all others he had feared to come on
soldiers, but the Campbells in Government pay who had burnt and
ravaged here had long ago done their work, and the place was
deserted; there was nothing to guard now, and none against whom
to hold it. A poor Cameron woman, whose husband had been shot in
cold blood as he was working in his little field, had given Ewen
shelter for the night. She told him, what he expected to hear, that the
house of Ardroy had been burnt down by a detachment of redcoats;
this she knew because the soldiers had returned that way, and she
had heard them boasting how they had left the place in flames. Of
Miss Cameron’s fate she knew nothing; but then she never saw
anyone now that her man was gone; the burnt countryside was
nearly depopulated. That Ewen had seen for himself already. And
she said with tears, as, thanking her from his soul for her hospitality,
he turned away from her door in the morning grey, “Oh Mac ’ic Ailein,
for the Chief and the Chief’s kin I’d give the last rag, the last mouthful
that’s left to me—but I’m asking God why He ever let Prince Tearlach
come to Scotland.” And Ewen had no heart to find an answer.
Against his will the question had haunted him as he hobbled on.
Just a year ago he had had the news of that coming; yes, just a year
ago he had sat with Alison by the loch and been happy—too happy
perhaps. So his father’s house was gone! But all the more was his
mind set to reach Ardroy, to find out what had befallen those who
had remained behind there: Aunt Margaret first and foremost, the
servants, old Angus and his grandchildren, the womenfolk, the
fugitives from Drumossie Moor . . . And here at last he was, going
incredibly slowly, and accompanied by a dull pain in the thigh which
by this time seemed an inseparable part of himself, but come to the
spot where, after crossing the Allt Buidhe burn, one used to discern
the chimneys of the house of Ardroy between the pines of the
avenue. Since he knew that he would never see them thus again,
Ewen did not look up, but he thought, as he crossed the burn on the
stepping-stones, nearly overbalancing from fatigue, that one thing, at
least, would be the same, for not even Cumberland could set fire to
Loch na h-Iolaire.
Then, unable for the moment to get farther, he sank down among
the welcoming heather for a rest. That, just coming into bloom, was
unchanged; ‘thou art the same and thy years shall not fail’—the
words floated into his head and out again, as he felt its springy
resistance give beneath his body. Then, half lying there, twisting a
tuft round and round the fingers of one hand for the pleasure of
feeling it again, Ewen let his eyes stray to the spot where his father’s
house and his had stood. And so strong were habit and memory that
he could see its roof and chimneys still. He put a hand over his eyes
to rub away the false sight . . . but when he removed it the chimneys
were still there, and from one there floated a wisp of smoke. . . .
Trembling, he dragged himself clumsily to his feet.

Like a man who dreams the impossible he stood a little later

outside the entrance door of Ardroy. The whole affair was like a
dream; for fire had certainly passed upon the house, and yet it was
unharmed. The lintel, the sides of the stone porch were blackened
with smoke; the ivy was brown and shrivelled, but not even the
woodwork was injured. The house seemed occupied; the door stood
open as on fine days it was wont to do; but there was not a creature
about. Where was Aunt Marget?
 Slowly Ewen went over the threshold, feeling the stone and wood
like a blind man to make sure that it was real. He could have kissed
it—his house that was not burnt after all. The sun was pouring into
the long room; there was a meal laid on the table—for Aunt
Margaret? Then where was she? The place was very silent. Perhaps
—a horrible notion—strangers held Ardroy now, enemies. He would
rather it were burnt. . . . But had harm befallen Aunt Margaret? He
must find her; shame on him to be thinking first of the house!
He was giddy with hunger and fatigue, but he had no thought of
approaching the table; he left the room and, holding very tightly by
the rail, went up the stairs. The door of Miss Cameron’s room was a
little ajar, so he pushed it gently open, too confused to knock. Where,
where was she?
And he stood in the doorway rooted, because, so unexpectedly,
everything in that neat, sunny room which he had known from a child
was just as he had always known it . . . even to Aunt Margaret
herself, sitting there by the window reading a chapter in her big
Bible, as she always did before breakfast. The surprise of its
usualness after his experiences and his fears almost stunned him,
and he remained there motionless, propping himself by the doorpost.
It was odd, however, that Aunt Marget had not heard him, for she
had not used to be deaf. The thought came to Ewen that he was
perhaps become a ghost without knowing it, and he seriously
considered the idea for a second or two. Then he took a cautious
step forward.
“Aunt Margaret!”
He was not a ghost! She heard and looked up . . . it was true that
her face was almost frightened. . . .
“I have come back!” said Ewen baldly. “May I . . . may I sit on
your bed?”
He crashed on to it rather than sat upon it, hitting his head
against the post at the bottom, since all at once he could not see
very well.
But Aunt Margaret did not scold him; in fact he perceived, after a
little, that she was crying as she sat beside him, and attempting, as if
he were a child again, to kiss his head where he had struck it. “Oh,
Ewen, my boy—my darling, darling boy!”
 “Then did that poor woman dream that the house was burnt
down?” asked Ewen some quarter of an hour later, gazing at Miss
Cameron in perplexity, as she planted before him, ensconced as he
was in the easy-chair in her bedroom, the last components of a large
repast. For allow him to descend and eat downstairs she would not;
indeed, after the first questions and emotions were over, she was for
hustling him up to the attics and hiding him there. But, Ewen having
announced with great firmness that he was too lame to climb a stair
that was little better than a ladder, she compromised on her
bedchamber for the moment, and, with Marsali’s assistance, brought
up thither the first really satisfying meal which Ewen had seen for
more than three months.
In answer to his question she now began to laugh, though her
eyes were still moist. “The house was set fire to—in a way. Eat,
Eoghain, for you look starving; and you shall hear the tale of its
escape.”
Ewen obeyed her and was told the story. But not yet having, so it
seemed to him, the full use of his faculties, he was not quite clear
how much of the house’s immunity was due to chance, to
connivance on the part of the officer commanding the detachment
sent to burn it, and to the blandishments of Miss Cameron herself. At
any rate, after searching, though not plundering, the house of Ardroy
from top to bottom (for whom or what was not quite clear to Ewen,
since at that date he was safely a prisoner at Fort Augustus), firing
about half the crofts near, collecting what cattle they could lay their
hands on, the most having already been sent up into the folds of the
mountains, and slaying a dozen or so of Miss Cameron’s hens, they
had piled wood against the front of the house, with what intention
was obvious. It was a moment of great anguish for Miss Cameron.
But the soldiers were almost ready to march ere the fuel was lighted.
And as they were setting fire to the pine-branches and the green
ash-boughs the officer approached her and said in a low voice,
“Madam, I have carried out my instructions—and it is not my fault if
this wood is damp. That’s enough, Sergeant; ’twill burn finely.
Column, march!”
 Directly they were out of sight Miss Cameron and Marsali, the
younger maidservants and the old gardener, seizing rakes and
brooms and fireirons, had pulled away the thickly smoking but as yet
harmless branches. “And then I bethought me, Ewen, that ’twould be
proper there should be as much smoke as possible, to convince the
world, and especially the redcoats, should they take a look back. A
house cannot burn, even in a spot so remote as this, without there
being some evidence of it in the air. So we made a great pile of all
that stuff at a safe distance from the house—and, my grief, the
trouble it was to get it to burn! Most of the day we tended it; and a
nasty thick reek it made, and a blaze in the end. That’s how the
house was burnt. . . . What ails you, my bairn?”
But this time Ewen was able hastily to dash the back of his hand
over his eyes. He could face her, therefore, unashamed, and
reaching out for her hand, put his lips to it in silence.
 CHAPTER III

Not infrequently in the past had Miss Margaret Cameron

animadverted on the obstinacy which lay hidden (as his temper was
hidden) under her nephew’s usually gentle speech and ways. And
now, at the greatest crisis in his life, when that life itself might hang
upon his prudence, poor Miss Cameron was faced in her young
relative with a display of this quality which really distracted her.
On that joyful and wonderful morning of his return she had
allowed him (she put it so) to retire to his own bed in his own room
‘just for the once’; the garrets, the cellar or a bothy on the braeside
being designated as his future residences. Ewen did not argue—
indeed he was not capable of it; he fell into his bed and slept for
fourteen hours without waking.
Once he was there, and so obviously in need of rest and
attention, Miss Cameron had not, of course, the heart to turn him
out; but she kept a guard of young MacMartins and others round the
house ready to give tongue in case of a surprise, and promised
herself to banish the returned fugitive to more secluded regions
directly he was able to leave his room. But when, after three days,
Ewen did so, it was not to retire into this destined seclusion; on the
contrary, he began at once to limp about, acquainting himself with
what had happened to his tenants in his absence, trying to discover
the fate of those who had never returned—among whom was
Lachlan MacMartin—visiting the nearer crofts in person, and
interviewing the inhabitants of the farther at the house. Presently, he
said, he would ‘take to the heather,’ perhaps; but, as his aunt could
see, he was yet too lame for it; and, as for the garrets or the cellar,
he was just as safe in his own bedchamber as in those
uncomfortable retreats.
Yielding on this point with what she hoped was the wisdom of the
serpent, Miss Cameron then returned to a subject much nearer her
heart: Ardroy’s departure for France or Holland, which he would
attempt, she assumed, as soon as he could hear of a likely vessel
and was fit to undertake the journey to the coast.
 “France?” queried Ewen, as if he had heard this suggestion for
the first time. It was the fifth evening after his return; Miss Cameron
was sitting knitting in the long parlour, and he stretched in a chair
opposite to her. The windows were closely curtained, and young
Angus MacMartin and a still younger brother prowled delightedly in
the avenue keeping watch. “France, Aunt Margaret? What put that
into your head?”
Miss Cameron laid down her knitting. “Because you cannot stay
here, Ewen. And France is in my head rather than Holland or
Denmark because—well, surely you can guess—because your wife
is there.”
Ewen got out of his chair and limped to one of the windows. “I am
not leaving Scotland at present,” he said quietly, and drew aside the
curtain. “We need not therefore discuss the claims of one country
over another.”
“You cannot mean to stay here at Ardroy! Ewen, are you daft?
And, in the name of the Good Being, don’t show yourself at a lighted
window like that!”
“’Tis so light outside that the candles do not carry,” returned her
nephew. Indeed but for Miss Cameron’s prudence they would not
have been sitting thus curtained, but in daylight. “Moreover no one
will come to look for me here; the house has been ‘burnt,’” he went
on, using the argument he had already used half a dozen times. And
he continued to look out; at least Margaret Cameron thought that he
was looking out. In reality he had his eyes shut, that he might not
see Alison’s face—a vain device, for he saw it all the clearer.
His aunt was silent for a moment, for he had implanted in her
mind a most disturbing doubt.
“Well,” she said at last dryly, “I should think that if Major
Windham, to whom you owe so much, knew of this freak of yours, he
would regret the sacrifices which he had made in order to save you,
when this is the use to which you put your liberty.”
“I think Major Windham would understand,” said Ewen rather
shortly.
“Understand what?”
There was no answer. “Then I doubt if the ghost of poor Neil, who
died for you, or of Lachlan, would understand!”
 Ewen turned at that, but stayed where he was. “Poor Neil indeed;
may his share of Paradise be his!” he said in a softened tone. “And
Lachlan, too, if he be dead. Since you speak of my foster-brothers,
Aunt Margaret, and reproachfully, then you must know that this is
one reason why I do not wish to leave Ardroy, because it shames me
to take ship for France myself and desert those others who cannot
flee, for whose fate I am responsible. Moreover, I have started the
rebuilding of the burnt crofts, and——”
“Trust a man to think that he is the only being who can oversee
anything practical! I wonder,” observed Miss Cameron, “how much of
rebuilding and repairs I have not ordered and supervised when you
were nothing but a small wild boy, Ewen, falling into the loch and
losing yourself on the braes above it!”
He hobbled over to her. “I know, I know. No laird ever had a
better factor than you, Aunt Margaret!”
Miss Cameron’s knitting slid to the floor. “Had! Aye, I’m getting an
old wife now, ’tis plain, that you dare not leave the reins to me for a
year or so, while you take your head out of the lion’s mouth for a
while.”
“No, no, you know that’s not my thought,” said Ewen, distressed.
“I’d leave Ardroy to you as blithely as I did a year ago—I will so leave
it . . . presently.”
“Aye, that you will do presently—but not by your own will. You’ll
go off from this door as you left Fort Augustus a week ago, tied on a
horse again, and your father’s house really in flames behind you—
and all because you will not listen to advice!”
“You make me out more obstinate than I am,” said Ewen gently.
“Your advice is excellent, Aunt Marget, but you do not know . . . all
the circumstances.”
“That can easily be remedied,” said Miss Cameron with meaning.
But to that suggestion Ewen made no reply.
Miss Cameron turned round in her chair, and then got up and
faced him. “Ewen, my dear, what is wrong? What is it that is keeping
you from getting out of the country? Surely it is not . . . that there is
something amiss between you and Alison?”
Ewen did not meet her eyes. But he shook his head. “Alison and I
——” he began, but never finished. How put into words what Alison
was to him? Moreover, that which was keeping him back did stand
between him and her—at least in his own soul. “Some day, perhaps,
I will tell you, Aunt Marget,” he said quietly. “But I’d be glad if you
would not discuss my departure just now.—You have dropped your
knitting.”
He picked it up for her, and Margaret Cameron stood quite still,
looking up uneasily at the height of him, at his brow all wrinkled with
some pain of whose nature she was quite ignorant, at the sudden
lines round his young mouth. She ended her survey with a sigh.
“And to think that—since we cannot get a letter to her—the lassie
may be breaking her heart over there, believing that you are dead!”
Ewen took a step away, with a movement as though to ward off a
blow. Then he translated the movement into a design to snuff the
candles on the table behind him. After a moment his voice came,
unsteady and hurt: “Aunt Margaret, you are very cruel.” And his hand
must have been unsteady, too, for he snuffed the flame right out.
“’Tis for your own good,” replied Miss Cameron, winking hard at
the engraving of King James the Third as a young man over the
mantelshelf in front of her. Ewen relighted from another the candle
he had slain, saying nothing, and with the air of one who does not
quite know what he is doing. “At least, I’m sure ’tis not for mine,”
went on Miss Cameron, and now, little given to tears as she was,
she surreptitiously applied a corner of a handkerchief to one eye.
“You cannot think that I want you to go away again . . . and leave the
house the . . . the mere shell of emptiness it is when you are not
here!”
Ewen looked round and saw the scrap of cambric. In an instant,
despite the pain it cost him, he had knelt down by her side and was
taking her hands into his, and saying how sorry he was to grieve her,
and assuring her that there was nothing, nothing whatever wrong
between him and Alison.
Yet even then he made no promises about departure.

Nor had he made any a week later, when, one hot afternoon, he
lay, reflecting deeply, on the bed in his own room, with his hands
behind his head. Although his wounded leg was already much