Chapter 11: The Midnight Attack.

Donalblane took these difficulties and disasters deeply to heart, not so much on his own account, for, like all brave-spirited boys, he had no doubt that he would pull through all right somehow, but because of his hero, Mr. Paterson, who had won the affection and loyalty of his young heart. He considered him the noblest of men, and more than once had got into trouble by hotly resenting the undeserved slurs and sneers that were too freely cast upon him.

“Ye dinna ken what ye’re saying, ye sneakin’ loon!” he had once retorted to a lanky youth who was meanly making charges against Mr. Paterson that were no less false than frivolous; and when the other responded with a blow, Donalblane, taking no account of the disparity in size and age, flung himself at him so fiercely and used his fists to such good purpose that the slanderer was soon fain to flee the field.

“Ye lee, ye lee, and ye ken weel ye’re leeing!” he cried indignantly on another occasion; but this time, his antagonist being a powerful man, Donalblane did not fare so well—in fact, he got a bad thrashing; but as he nursed his bruises he found comfort in the conviction that they were suffered in a good cause, and that he would never allow Mr. Paterson’s reputation to be blackened if he could in any wise help it.

Among the early victims of the fever had been Mrs. Sutherland and her little boy, and, broken in heart and spirit, Mr. Sutherland not long after joined them in the grave, so that Donalblane felt he had only one friend left, for somehow he had not taken kindly to any of the other men. He therefore attached himself closely to Mr. Paterson, and thus had the opportunity of rendering him a supremely important service.

Mr. Paterson had invited him to share his hut—a mark of esteem that made him very pleased and proud, as may be imagined. They had thus lived together for a fortnight, Mr. Paterson devoting himself to the trying difficulties that surrounded him, while Donalblane spent his time in fishing and hunting, so that they might always be supplied with food. One day Donald chanced to overhear a conversation between two of the worst characters in the colony, which made it clear that they had designs upon Mr. Paterson’s life. He at once made known his suspicions, but Mr. Paterson treated the matter lightly.

“I am very much obliged to you, my boy,” he said, with his rare smile, “but there is nothing to be feared. I understand those fellows. They would be well pleased, no doubt, to have me out of the way, but they’d never have the courage to do what you fear.”