*

52 The Little Minister

Men nearly naked ran past Gavin, seeking
to escape from Thrums by the fields he had
descended. When he shouted to them they
only ran faster. A Tillyloss weaver whom he
tried to stop struck him savagely and sped past
to the square. In Bank Street, which was
full of people at one moment and empty the
next, the minister stumbled over old Charles
Yuill.

“Take me and welcome,” Yuill cried, mistak-
ing Gavin for the enemy. He had only one arm
through the sleeve of his jacket, and his feet were
bare.

“Tam Mr. Dishart. Are the soldiers already
in the square, Yuill?”

“They'll be there in a minute.”

The man was so weak that Gavin had to hold
him.

“ Be a man, Charles. You have nothing to
fear. It is not such as you the soldiers have
come for. If need be, I can swear that you had
not the strength, even if you had the will, to join
in the weavers’ riot.”

“ For Godsake, Mr. Dishart,” Yuill cried, his
hands chattering on Gavin’s coat, “dinna swear
that. My laddie was in the thick o’ the riot;
and if he’s ta’en there’s the poor’s-house gaping
for Kitty and me, for I couldna weave half a web
a week. If there’s a warrant agin onybody o’
the name of Yuill, swear it’s me; swear I’m a
desperate character, swear I’m michty strong for
all I look palsied; and if when they take me, my
courage breaks down, swear the mair, swear I
confessed my guilt to you on the Book.”