After searching for him at the miller's and at Howglen, he found him
where he had left him, still on his knees, with his hands in the grass.
"Alec's a' safe, man," he cried.
Thomas fell on his face, and he thought he was dead. But he was only
giving lowlier thanks.
James took hold of him after a moment's pause. Thomas rose from the
earth, put his great horny hand, as a child might, into that of the
little weaver, and allowed him to lead him whither he would. He was
utterly exhausted, and it was hours before he spoke.
There was no getting to Glamerton. So James took him to the miller's
for shelter and help, but said nothing about how he had found him. The
miller made Thomas drink a glass of whisky and get into his bed.
"I saw ye, Thamas, upo' yer knees," said he; "but I dauredna come near
ye. Put in a word for me, neist time, man."
Thomas made him no reply.
Down the Glamour and down the Wan-Water, for the united streams went by
the latter name, the terrible current bore them. Nowhere could Alec
find a fit place to land, till they came to a village, fortunately on
the same side as Howglen, into the street of which the water flowed. He
bent to his oars, got out of the current, and rowed up to the door of a
public-house, whose fat kind-hearted landlady had certainly expected no
guests that day.
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