"Father said I was to make you quite at home, Max," said Kenneth, "so
let's see old Donald before we go. You have been introduced to the cook
by deputy. Come along."
"Who is old Donald--is he a chief?"
"Chief! no. I thought I told you. He's our piper."
"Oh!"
"This way."
Kenneth led his companion back to the great entrance of the ruined
castle, through which gateway Scoodrach had gone in search of the rods.
Tah-tah-tah! cried the jackdaws, as the lads entered the open gloomy
yard, and half a dozen began to fly here and there, while two or three
perched about, and peered inquiringly down first with one eye and then
with the other.
Max looked up at the mouldering walls, with their crevices dotted with
patches of polypody and _ruta muraria_, velvety moss, and flaunting
golden sun ragwort, and wondered whether the place was ever attacked.
"Here's Scood," cried Kenneth, as the lad appeared through the farther
arch, bearing a couple of long rods over his shoulder as if they were
lances for the defence. "Here, we're going up to see Donald. Is he
there?"
"Yes, she heard him as she went to the house."
"All right. You go on to Tavvy. Stop a moment. Go back and get a
flask, and ask Grant to fill it with whisky. Tavvy will want a drop to
christen the first fish."
"She's got it," said Scoodrach, holding up a flask by its strap.
"Did he give you plenty?"
"She asked him, and Master Crant said he wouldn't give me a trop, and
sent me away."
"But, I say--"
"Ta pottle's quite full," said Scood, grinning. "Master Crant sent her
away, so she went rount to the window, and got in, and filled it at the
sideboard."
"I say, Scood, you mustn't do that!" cried Kenneth sharply.
"Why not? She titn't want the whusky, but the young master tit. Who
shall Master Crant be, she should like to know!"
"Well, never mind now, only don't do it again. It's like stealing,
Scood."
"Like what?" cried the lad, firing up. "How could she steal the whusky
when she ton't trink it hersel? She wanted her master's whusky for the
young master. You talk creat nonsense."
"Ah, well, go on. We'll come directly."
Scoodrach went off scowling, and Kenneth scratched his head.
"He's a rum fellow, isn't he? Never mind; nobody saw him; only he
mustn't do it again. Why, I believe if father saw him getting in at the
window, he'd pepper him. Here, this way."
Kenneth entered another doorway, whose stones showed the holes where the
great hinges and bolts had been, and began to ascend a spiral flight of
broken stairs.
"Mind how you come. I'll give you a hand when it's dangerous."
"Dangerous!" said Max, shrinking.
"Well, I mean awkward; you couldn't fall very far."
"But why are we going up there?"
"Never mind; come on."
"But you are going to play me some trick."
"If you don't come directly, I will play you a trick. I wasn't going
to, but if you flinch, I'll shove you in one of the old dungeons, and
see how you like that."
"But--"
"Well, you are a coward! I didn't think Cockneys were such girls."
"I'm not a coward, and I'm coming," said Max quickly; "but I'm not used
to going up places like this."
"Oh, I am sorry!" cried Kenneth mockingly. "If I had known you were
coming, we'd have had the man from Glasgow to lay on a few barrels of
gas, and had a Brussels carpet laid down."
"Now, you are mocking at me," said Max quietly. "I could not help
feeling nervous. Go on, please. I'll come."
"He is a rum chap," said Kenneth, laughing to himself, as he disappeared
in the darkness.
"Do the steps go up straight?" said Max from below.
"No; round and round like a corkscrew. It won't be so dark higher up.
There used to be a loophole here, but the stones fell together."
Max drew a deep breath, and began stumbling up the spiral stairs, which
had mouldered away till some of them sloped, while others were deep
hollows; but he toiled on, with a half giddy, shrinking sensation
increasing as he rose.
"If you feel anything rush down by you," said Kenneth, in a hollow
whisper, "don't be afraid; it's only an old ghost. They swarm here."
"I don't believe it," said Max quietly.
"Well, will you believe this?--there are two steps gone, and there's a
big hole just below me. Give me your hand, or you'll go through."
Max made no reply, but went cautiously on till he could feel that he had
reached the dangerous place, and stopped.
"Now then, give me your hand, and reach up with one leg quite high.
That's the way."
Kenneth felt that the soft hand he took was cold and damp.
"Got your foot up? Ready?"
"Yes."
"There now, spring."
There was a bit of a scuffle, and Max stood beside his young host.
"That's the way. It's worse going down, but you'll soon get used to it.
Why, Scood and I run up and down here."
Max made no answer, but cautiously followed his leader, growing more and
more nervous as he climbed, for his unaccustomed feet kept slipping, and
in several places the stones were so worn and broken away that it really
would have been perilous in broad daylight, while in the semi-obscurity,
and at times darkness, there were spots that, had he seen them, the lad
would have declined to pass.
"Here we are," said Kenneth, in a whisper, as the light now shone down
upon them. "Be quiet. I don't suppose he heard us come up."
Max obeyed, and followed his guide up a few more steps, to where they
turned suddenly to left as well as right--the latter leading to the
ruined battlements of the corner tower, the former into an old chamber,
partly covered in by the groined roof, and lit by a couple of loopholes
from the outside, and by a broken window opening on to the old
quadrangle.
The floor was of stone, and so broken away in places that it was
possible to gaze down to the basement of the tower, the lower floors
being gone; and here, busy at work, in the half roofless place, with the
furniture consisting of a short plank laid across a couple of stones
beneath the window, and an old three-legged stool in the crumbling,
arched hollow of what had been the fireplace, sat a wild-looking old
man. The top of his head was shiny and bald, but from all round
streamed down his long thin silvery locks, and, as he raised his head
for a moment to pick up something from the floor, Max could see that his
face was half hidden by his long white beard, which flew out in silvery
strands from time to time, as a puff of wind came from the unglazed
window.
He too was in jacket and kilt, beneath which his long thin bare legs
glistened with shaggy silver hairs, and, as Max gazed at the dull,
sunken eyes, high cheek-bone, and eagle-beak nose of the wonderfully
wrinkled face, he involuntarily shrank back, and felt disposed to
hastily descend.
For a few moments he did not realise what the old man was doing, for
there was something shapeless in his lap, and what seemed to be three or
four joints of an old fishing-rod beneath his arm, while he busily
smoothed and passed a piece of fine string or twisted hemp through his
hands, one of which Max saw directly held a piece of wax.
"Is he shoemaking?" thought Max; but directly after saw that the old
fellow was about to bind one of the joints of the fishing-rod.
Just then, as he raised his head, he seemed to catch sight of the two
lads standing in the old doorway, and the eyes that were dull and
filmy-looking gradually began to glisten, and the face grow wild and
fierce, but only to soften to a smile as he exclaimed, in a harsh,
highly-pitched voice,--
"Ah, Kenneth, my son! Boy of my heart! Have you come, my young eagle,
to see the old man?"
"Yes; I've brought our visitor, Mr Max Blande."
"Ah!" said the old man, half-rising and making a courtly bow; "she hurt
that the young Southron laird had come, and there's sorrow in her old
heart, for the pipes are not ready to give him welcome to the home of
our Chief."
"What, haven't you got 'em mended yet?"
"Not quite, Kenneth, laddie. I'm doing them well, and to-morrow they
shall sing the old songs once again."
"Hurrah!" cried Kenneth. "My friend here is fra the sooth, but he lo'es
the skirl o' the auld pipes like a son o' The Mackhai."
"Hey! Does he?" cried the old man, firing up. "Then let him lay his
han' in mine, and to-morrow, and the next day, and while he stays, he
shall hear the old strains once again."
"That's right."
"Ay, laddie, for Donald has breath yet, auld as he is."
"Ah, you're pretty old, aren't you, Donald?"
"Old? Ay. She'll be nearly a hundert, sir," said the old man proudly.
"A hundert--a hundert years."
Max stared, and felt a curious sensation of shrinking from the
weird-looking old man, which increased as he suddenly beckoned him to
approach with his thin, claw-like hand, after sinking back in his seat.
In spite of his shrinking, Max felt compelled to go closer to the old
fellow, who nodded and smiled and patted the baize-covered skin in his
lap.
"Ta bag," he said confidentially, "she isn't a hundert years auld, but
she's auld, and she was proke, and ta wint whustled when she plew, but
she's chust mended, and to-morrow--ah, to-morrow!"
"Yes; we're going fishing," said Kenneth, who was enjoying Max's
shrinking way.
"Chust going to fush," said the old man, who was gazing searchingly at
Max. "And she likes ta music and ta pipes? She shall hear them then."
"Yes, get them mended, Donald; we want to hear them again."
"P'raps she could chust make enough music the noo."
Kenneth laughed as he saw Max's horror, for the old man began hastily to
twist up the wax end with which he had been binding one of the cracked
pipes; but he laid his hand on his shoulder.
"No, no; not this morning. Get them all right, Donald."
"Yes; she was ketting them all right," he muttered, and he began with
trembling fingers to unfasten the waxed thread.
At a sign from his companion, Max hurriedly followed him to the doorway.
"We'll go up on the top another time," said Kenneth. "There's such a
view, and you can walk nearly all round the tower, only you have to be
careful, or over you go."
Max gave a horrified glance up the crumbling staircase, and then
followed Kenneth, who began to descend with all the ease of one long
accustomed to the dark place.
"Take care here!" he kept on saying, as they came to the awkward places,
where Max felt as if he would give anything for a candle, but he
mastered his timidity, and contrived to pass over the different gaps in
the stairs safely.
"How does that old man manage?" he asked, as he drew breath freely at
the bottom.
"Manage? Manage what?"
"Does he always stay there?"
"What! Old Donald? Why, he cuts up and down there as quickly as I
can."
"Then he is not always there?"
"Not he. Too fond of a good peat fire. He lives and sleeps at Long
Shon's. But come along."
He hurried Max out of the quadrangle and down toward the narrow neck of
rock which was uncovered by the falling tide, and then along by a sandy
path, which passed two or three low whitewashed bothies, from whose
chimneys rose a faint blue smoke, which emitted a pungent, peculiar
odour.
Suddenly a thought occurred to Kenneth as they were passing one of the
cottages, where a brown-faced, square-looking woman in a white mutch sat
picking a chicken, the feathers floating here and there, and a number of
fowls pecking about coolly enough, and exhibiting not the slightest
alarm at their late companion's fate.
"That's Mrs Long Shon, Max," whispered Kenneth hastily. "You go on
along this path; keep close to the water, and I'll catch up to you
directly."
"You will not be long?" said Max, with a helpless look.
"Long! no. Catch you directly. Go on. I just want to speak to the old
woman."
Max went on, keeping, as advised, close to the waters of the little bay,
till he could go no farther, for a rapid burn came down from the hills
and emptied itself there into the sea.
"Hillo! ahoy!" came a voice from behind him, just as he was gazing
helplessly about, and wondering whether, if he attempted to ford the
burn, there would be any dangerous quicksands.
Max turned, to see Kenneth coming trotting along with a basket in his
hand.
"Off with your shoes and socks, Max," cried Kenneth.
He set the example, and was half across before Max was ready.
"Tuck up your trousers," continued Kenneth, laughing. "Why don't you
dress like I do? No trousers to tuck!"
Max obeyed to the letter, and followed into the stream, flinching and
making faces and balancing, as he held a shoe in each hand.
"Why, what's the matter?" cried Kenneth.
"It's--very--chilly," said Max, hurrying on as fast as he could, but
managing so badly that he put one foot in a deep place, and to save
himself from falling the other followed, with the result that he came
out on the other side with the bottoms of his trousers dripping wet.