HAMISH TO THE RESCUE
The storm which awakened Marjorie had also roused Hamish. He awoke to
hear the rain pouring down, and the burn rushing along in heavy spate.
'Fine fishing, to-morrow,' said Hamish to himself, 'but, whew! how the
wind's rising. The rain can't last long at this rate.'
He lay a little longer, listening to the rushing of the burn; then he
began to think of the people who might be without shelter that night;
Neil (who he hoped would take shelter in one of the cottages if the
gale continued) and the gipsies, and Gibbie MacKerrach.
At the thought of Gibbie a sudden recollection came into his sleepy
brain.
He remembered the lad's lair in the hills, above his father's house,
and that the wind had been blowing from that direction on the day when
a paper had been found fluttering in the ruins.
Had no one ever connected the crazy lad with the robbery?
The idea seemed fanciful, but still it would do no harm to go and
examine Gibbie's curious little cave on the hillside.
Hamish thought he would set out at once, before daylight came and made
him feel how ridiculous it was to think of such a thing.
The dawn was hardly making any headway through the clouds and the rain,
and Hamish pulled up the collar of his coat and pushed forward in the
darkness.
As he toiled up the hill the wind was rising in angry squalls and after
awhile the rain ceased and a large break began to open in the clouds,
letting the grey light through.
The burn, along whose banks Hamish was making his way, was coming down
tumultuously, bearing with it bits of stick, clods of earth, and other
rubbish. Once or twice Hamish fancied he saw a bit of white paper
whirl past, but it was carried down stream before he could reach it.
At last he reached the hollow where Gibbie's little dwelling was
situated. Just above there was a little cascade, and the swollen
waters, coming down with a rush, overflowed their banks and flooded the
lair, sweeping out a quantity of straw mixed with scraps of paper.
Hamish plunged into the stream and caught straw, papers and all in his
arms.
A shout from the lair made him look round, and there stood Gibbie,
soaked with wet, and plastered with mud from head to foot.
'You must not be touching these,' cried the lad; 'they're for Neil, all
for Neil!'
'All right, Gibbie,' said Hamish tranquilly; 'you can give them to Neil
as soon as you like, I was only keeping them from being carried away.'
'Who told you I had seen Neil?' asked the lad craftily; 'Andrew said I
was not to tell any one, and I'm not going to say he is here; only the
nice gorjo in dark blue clothes asked me and I told him.'
'Ah, did you tell him?' said Hamish, speaking quietly, but trembling
between the fear of asking too much or too little; 'and when did you
see Mrs. MacAlister last?'
A sly expression passed over the lad's face.
'Me and Mrs. MacAlister not friends,' he said. 'Play her tricks.'
Suddenly he began to laugh. 'Played her a fine trick, though; she
never find out! Gibbie steal her letters when she and her husband had
gone out to see Neil home. Door left open, no one see Gibbie--clever
Gibbie!'
'Wait, Gibbie,' interrupted Hamish; 'I'm going to fetch something for
you,' and he made off downhill with all speed.
Dr. MacGregor was just driving home from a night visit to a patient
when his son dashed into the road, spattered with mud and with the
water squelching from his boots.
'Father,' said Hamish, 'come with me; I've found out who robbed the
post-office,' and throwing the reins to his groom, the astonished
doctor was dragged all the way to the gipsy's burrow.
'Hullo, Gibbie, you look cold,' said the doctor, taking in the
situation with great presence of mind; 'come with me and have a glass
of something hot.'
Sitting by the fire in the nearest cottage, with a glass of steaming
toddy in his hand, Gibbie became communicative, and the doctor soon
drew from him the rest of the story.
'Neil's a good lad,' said the gipsy. 'Neil knows how to behave to a
Romany chel; drives away bad boys when they laugh and throw stones.
Gibbie gave Neil a present; two presents; something out of the letters.
Neil will find it in his coat pocket some day. Papers worth a hundred
pound.'
'All right, Gibbie,' said the doctor craftily; 'suppose we go and tell
Neil that you put them there. He may not have been able to find them
yet.'
Dr. MacGregor's tired horse was withdrawn from its feed, and Hamish,
his father, and Gibbie set out for Ardnavoir.
'Neil's cleared,' announced Hamish; and every one turned round to
encounter the strange-looking figure of the gipsy.
Finding himself among so many people, Gibbie became suspicious and
refused to speak, but the faces of his companions rendered all
explanation unnecessary.
'I am glad to say that your innocence is established beyond a doubt,
Neil,' said Dr. MacGregor beaming upon him; 'and I am glad to shake
hands with you.'
'Oh, hooray, hooray,' shouted the boys. 'Neil, old boy, you're
cleared,' and they capered round him, patting him on the back and
cheering until the lad was quite bewildered.
Laddie, after looking puzzled for a moment, burst into a joyous barking
and leaped up three times and turned round in the air; then ran to Neil
and jumped up again, trying to lick his face. An indescribable tumult
reigned, and Neil extricated himself with difficulty.
'Excuse me,' he said; 'you are all ferry kind, but I must pe going and
telling my mother.'
'Wait a bit, Neil,' said the doctor, laying a detaining hand upon the
lad's shoulder; 'not so suddenly, if you please; I will go with you and
prepare her,' and the two left the house together.
'But Mrs. Macdonnell, Mummie,' said Tricksy, with a quivering lip, 'do
you--do you think she'll die?'
'Not she,' said the laird, coming forward; 'happiness has never killed
any one yet, and a little of that is what Mrs. Macdonnell was wanting.
But where is the hero of the day; the one who found out what no one
else has been able to discover! We have not congratulated him yet.'
'We do, we do,' they all cried; and they laid forcible hands upon
Hamish, who had retired into the background with a very red face,
carried him out of doors and chaired him triumphantly round the
courtyard.
'But _Hamish_,' said Harry later in the day, his eyes bright with
astonishment; 'to think that after all it was Hamish who did it!'
'Why not?' inquired Allan gruffly.
'Why, he's such a quiet fellow, one never thinks of his doing anything.
If it had been you or me now, or Reggie, or even Marjorie (although
Marjorie's far too conceited for a girl); but Hamish!'
Marjorie had caught some of the last words, and she turned upon the boy
like lightning.
'Ever heard the fable of the Hare and the Tortoise?' she queried. 'If
not you'll find it in the Third Reading Book. Perhaps you're not as
far as that yet though.'
Still Harry found the matter hard to understand, and during several
days, he was frequently to be observed sitting on dykes and
contemplating Hamish, who shared the honours of the time with Neil.
'Only a few days now,' observed Tricksy regretfully, 'and there will be
an end of all the fun. Every one's going to school except me, and
there will be no boating or fishing or playing at pirates any more.'
'What about next year, Tricksy?' said Marjorie.
'Next year! Why, you'll be grown-up by then. Your mother said you
must be sent to school to learn to be less of a tomboy.'
'I won't be less of a tomboy,' declared Marjorie. 'I'm going to fish,
and climb rocks and ride ponies bare-backed, and do all those kinds of
things until I'm ever so old. We'll have better fun than ever, now we
have Neil back again. I vote we make a Compact----'
'We've made one already,' interposed Tricksy.
'Well, a new one then. We'll call it a League;--the Adventure
League--and we'll promise to come back every year. Harry and Gerald
too, and we'll have the Pirates' Den for our house; and we'll never
bother about being grown-up until we're too old to get any fun out of
being tomboys any more.'
'Agreed,' said the others. 'Neil, you shall be Captain of our League.'
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