Harry Milvaine had aunts and uncles in abundance, and about as many
cousins as there are gooseberries on an ordinary-sized bush; for he had
first cousins and second and third cousins, and on and on to, I verily
believe, forty-second cousins. They count kinship a long way off in the
Scottish Highlands.
And they used all to visit occasionally at Beaufort Hall. They did not
all come at once, to be sure, else, if they had, there would have been
no beds to hold them. They would have had to sleep in barns and byres,
under the hayricks and out on the heather.
Oh, it was no uncommon thing now for Harry to sleep on the heather. On
summer nights he would often steal out through the casement window of
his bedroom, which opened on to the lawn, and go quietly away to a
healthy hill not far off. Here he would pull a bundle of heather for a
pillow, and lie down rolled in his plaid with Eily in his arms and a
book in his hand. As long as there was light he would read. When it
grew semi-dark he would sleep, and awake in the morning as fresh as a
blackbird.
Once only he had what some boys would consider an ugly adventure. On
awaking one morning he felt something damp and cold touch his knee--he
wore the kilt. He quickly threw off the plaid, and there, close by him,
was an immense green-yellow snake. The creature was coiled up somewhat
in the form of the letter W. It was fully as thick as the neck part of
an ordinary violin, and it glittered all over as if varnished. A
wholesome, healthy snake, I assure you. He raised his head and hissed
at Harry. That snake would have fain got away. Very likely he had said
to himself the night before:
"I'll creep in here for warmth and get away again in the morning, before
the human being is awake."
But the snake had overslept himself and was caught napping.
Now there are two animals that do not like to turn tail when fairly
faced--a cat and a snake. Both feel they are at a disadvantage when
running away.
I have often proved this with snakes. Give them a fair offing, and they
will glide quickly off; but catch them unawares, and get close up to
them, and they will face you and fight.
Harry knew this and lay perfectly still. Granting that these great
green-yellow Highland snakes are not poisonous, they _bite_, and it is
not nice to be bitten by a snake of any kind.
Just at that moment, however, Eily returned from the woods where she had
been hunting on her own account. She took in the situation at a glance.
Next moment she had whirled the snake round her head and dashed it
yards away, where it lay writhing with a broken back. Many dogs are
clever at killing snakes. Then she came and licked her master's hand.
Every time any of Harry's aunts came they made this remark:
"How the boy does grow, to be sure!" Every time one of Harry's uncles
came he made some such remark as this:
"He'll be as big a man as his father. He is a true Highlander and a
true Milvaine."
Harry liked his uncles and aunts very well after a fashion, but he cared
little or nothing for his cousins. Some of them called him the hermit.
Harry did not mind. But he would coolly lock his garden gate and sit
down to read or to write, or begin working at his lathe, while his
cousins would be playing cricket in the paddock; then perhaps he would
come out, look for a moment, with an air of indifference, at the game,
then whistle on Eily and go off to the woods or the river. This was
exceedingly inhospitable of Harry, I must confess, only I must paint my
hero in his true colours.
"Why don't you play with your cousins, dear?" his mother would ask.
"Oh, mamma!" Harry would reply, "what _are_ they to me? I have books,
a gun, and a fishing-rod, and I have Eily; what more should I want?"
The name of Hermit followed him to the parish school. Our tale dates
back to the days before School Boards were thought of.
Harry was eleven now, and therefore somewhat too old for a governess.
So Miss Campbell had gone. I'm afraid that Harry had already forgotten
his promise to marry her when he "grew a great big man." At all events
he did not repeat it even when he kissed her good-bye.
What a long, long walk Harry had to that parish school! How would the
average English boy like to trudge o'er hill and dale, through moor and
moss and forest, four long miles every morning? But that is precisely
what Harry had to do, carrying with him, too, a pile of books one foot
high, including a large Latin dictionary.
Harry thought it delightful in summer; he used to start very early so as
to be able to study nature by the way, study birds and their nests,
study trees and shrubs and ferns and flowers.
Scottish schoolboy fashion, he took his dinner with him. A meagre meal
enough, only some bread-and-butter in a little bag, and a tin of sweet
milk which he carried in his hand.
Eily always went along with him, but she waited at a neighbouring farm
until school came out in the forenoon, when she had part of Harry's
dinner; then she was invariably at the gate at four o'clock, and wild
with joy when the homeward journey commenced.
Several other boys went Harry's road for more than two miles, but it was
the custom of the "Hermit" to start off at a race with his dog as soon
as he got out, and never halt until he put a good half-mile betwixt
himself and the lads, who would gladly have borne him company.