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Updated: May 11, 2025
With the brutal promptitude peculiar to that well-named "killing-time," four of them were drawn up on the road and instantly shot, and buried where they fell, by Lochenkit Moor, where a monument now marks their resting place. The two spared men, Gordon and McCubine, were then, without reason assigned, bound and carried away.
When Gordon and McCubine were standing under the fatal tree with the ropes round their necks, a sorrowing acquaintance asked the latter if he had any word to send to his wife. "Yes," answered the martyr; "tell her that I leave her and the two babes upon the Lord, and to his promise: `A father to the fatherless and a husband to the widow is the Lord in His holy habitation."
"We maun dae our best to help the wanderers," said the shepherd, as they started on their journey. "Ay," assented Peter. Arrived in Galloway they were passing over a wide moorland region one afternoon when a man suddenly appeared before them, as if he had dropped from the clouds, and held out his hand. "What! McCubine, can that be you?" exclaimed Quentin, grasping the proffered hand.
It took several hours to complete the work. When it was done Andrew Black surveyed it with complacency, and gave it as his opinion that it was a "braw kirk, capable o' accommodatin' a congregation o' some thoosands, mair or less." Then the two men, Gordon and McCubine, bidding him and the shepherd good-night, went away into the darkness from which they had emerged.
Hearing this, the man employed to act the part of executioner seemed touched, and asked forgiveness. "Poor man!" was the reply, "I forgive thee and all men." They died, at peace with God and man. An old tombstone, surrounded by an iron rail, marks to this day the spot among the old oak-trees where the bodies of McCubine and Gordon were laid to rest.
They halted here a few moments, for two dark forms were seen in the uncertain light to be moving about just in front of them. "It's them," whispered Andrew. "Whae?" asked the shepherd. "Alexander McCubine an' Edward Gordon." "Guid an' safe men baith," responded Quentin; "ye better gie them a cry." Andrew did so by imitating the cry of a plover. It was replied to at once.
"Hallo!" echoed the head, and reappeared blazing with astonishment. "Is that you, Peter?" "Ay, McCubine, that's me. I thought ye was a' deid. Hae ye ony parritch i' the hole? I'm awfu' hungry." "C'way in, lad: we've plenty to eat here, an guid company as weel the Lord be thankit."
"The stanes are big, ye see," explained Andrew, while the two men were approaching. "It'll tak' the strength o' the fowr o' us to lift some o' them." "We've got the cairn aboot finished," said McCubine as he came up.
"Man, I am glad to see ye. What brings ye here?" McCubine explained that he and his friend Gordon, with four comrades, were hiding in the Moss to avoid a party of dragoons who were pursuing them. "Grierson of Lagg is with them, and Captain Bruce is in command," he said, "so we may expect no mercy if they catch us.
Only the other day Bruce and his men dragged puir old Tam McHaffie out o' his bed, tho' he was ill wi' fever, an' shot him." Having conducted Quentin and Peter to the secret place where his friends were hidden, McCubine was asked anxiously, by the former, if he knew anything about the Wilsons.
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