_AMONG THE WHITE HARES--HOGMANAY NIGHT_
When Christmas-time came round, Sandie M‘Crae not only felt that he
needed a week’s rest, but that he had worked hard enough to deserve one.
It was therefore with a feeling of intense enjoyment and pleasure that
he seated himself in the train, his merry little friend Willie by his
side, the train that should soon bear him far away to his own bonnie
Highland home and his ain fireside.
Oh, that ain fireside, which nought surrounds save an atmosphere of
love, how pleasant it is to think of when far, far away! Sandie had
thought of it often and often when hard at work in his little attic, and
longed to be there. The loving father, seated in his arm-chair, quietly
smoking; the gentle-faced mother, bending over her knitting; his sweet
sister Elsie, with a book; the cat and the bawsent-faced collie Tyro.
Quickly enough sped the train, but under the circumstances it is no
wonder Sandie thought it slow. His head is out through the window long
before he nears the station. Yes, he can see Elsie with the dogcart and
Lord Raglan, and he waves his handkerchief to her, and she smilingly
waves her hand in return, for Elsie and Sandie are all in all to each
other.
Sandie is in such a hurry that he almost forgets to give up his ticket.
He rushes off the little platform, and next moment is almost capsized by
Tyro himself, who is perfectly wild in his demonstrations of joy and
undying love.
“Oh,” he seems to tell Sandie, “I thought I would never, never see you
more; I thought you were dead and away, and now, what can I do to allay
my feelings?”
And in order to do so the poor dog must commence flying round and round
in a circle, so quickly that his shape is barely distinguishable. Having
fondly embraced his sister, and asked after his father and mother, and
while Willie and she are shaking hands, Sandie takes Raglan’s head in
his arms to cuddle. Then he kisses his soft snout, and the horse
whinnies a welcome.
Sandie next takes a paper parcel from his ulster and opens it,
extracting therefrom great slabs of white oat-cake.
“Lord Raglan,” he cries, “I didn’t forget you.”
Raglan whinnies once more, and probably enjoys that cake far more than
he has enjoyed anything for many a day.
Tyro also has a share. Then all wheel happily home to the farm of old
Kilbuie.
* * * * *
“I shan’t touch a classic or open a book on mathematics until we return
to college.” That is what Sandie told Willie next morning at breakfast.
“Well, now, I do call that wise,” replied Willie; “one doesn’t expect
much wisdom from a genius--one doesn’t really, but for once in a
way----”
“Thank you,” said Sandie.
“And you’ll eat all you can, laddie,” quoth Sandie’s mother, “and drink
plenty o’ milk, for indeed you’re as white as a ghost.”
“Mother dear,” replied Sandie, “I’ll do all you tell me, even to the
drinking of milk, and right glad I am to have the chance of obeying you
once again.”
“O mother and Siss,” he added, with something akin to exultation, “I
used often and often to dream about this good old-fashioned fireside,
and then waken all alone in my attic so cold and dismal!”
* * * * *
Of course, one of the first visits the boys made was to the manse of
Belhaven.
The first person they saw was Maggie May herself. She ran joyously to
meet Sandie, holding out both her hands. But she did not present her
face to be kissed.
“I do declare, Maggie May,” said our hero, “you appear to have grown
since I saw you last.”
“Yes,” said the girl, “I suppose I must have.” Then she blushed bonniely
as she added, “You must remember I am quite old now, thirteen last
birthday.”
“And you’ve had a birthday since I’ve been here, and I was not aware of
it! How hard is fate! Never mind, Maggie May, I’ve brought you something
for a Christmas present. Oh, I shan’t keep you guessing what it is, and
you shall have it now. I have it here.”
Sandie went to the little dogcart and produced a box, and Maggie May’s
eyes sparkled as she opened it and took therefrom a charming and
well-filled cartridge-belt.
Of course she tried it on at once, and it fitted her nicely, and became
her very much.
“And my little gift,” said Willie, presenting a little box. It contained
a pair of beautiful earrings, that Maggie May thought must have cost a
small fortune, so studded with precious stones were they.
About this moment Maggie May was probably the happiest girl in the
parish.
Presently Mackenzie himself came in, then conversation became general.
“What think you of the weather?” said Sandie at last.
“I’ll tell you what it is,” answered the minister, “before twenty-four
hours are over there will be a slight fall of snow and no wind.”
“Hurrah!” cried Sandie.
“I know why you cry ‘Hurrah!’ You’re thinking about the white hares!”
“That’s it.”
“Well, it is all arranged. There will be you, Sandie, Maggie May here,
my man Stuart, and my simple self.”
“And me,” added Willie, with small regard for grammar.
“Well, now, as a friend,” said Sandie, “I’m going to be very
straightforward. You remember your last sporting venture, and the
somewhat original way you loaded your gun? Well, I think that this time
you had better stay at home, Willie, and talk to my mother and Elsie.”
“I’ve got a new gun,” said Willie doggedly. “You’ve only to put in a
cartridge and hold it out, and she goes off beautifully.”
“Yes; and perhaps shoots your neighbour.”
“Sandie M‘Crae, first Bursar of Marischal College, I’m going. That is
decided.”
Sandie sighed.
“A wilful man must have his way,” he said.
The white or mountain hare, reader, is found plentifully in Norway and
among our Scottish hills. It is not white all summer, but only changes
to that colour when winter comes, a kind of provision of nature to hide
it from its enemies, the fox and the eagle, and probably the great owl.
Its life is a hard one among the frozen hills in winter. Oftentimes its
poor paws will be found skinned and bleeding from scratching the hard
ground in order to procure a little food. They are usually stalked when
snow is on the ground, their footsteps being followed, so that dogs are
not really necessary.
But on this expedition, undertaken by our hero and his friends, the
minister’s retriever, Carlo, made one of the party.
It may be thought wonderful that a mere child like Maggie May should be
permitted to join a venture like this across the bleak and frozen hills.
Sandie had suggested her staying at home.
“She’s a true Mackenzie,” said the minister. “A Mackenzie is nothing at
all if not hardy. Believe me, Maggie will keep up with the best of us.”
Stuart, who had no gun, carried the luncheon and looked after the dog.
The trap was left at a little croft not far from a high steep hill, and
then the party proceeded on foot.
There was broom to struggle through at first, then heather to wade
among, so high that it nearly buried Maggie May. Sandie stuck by her
side, helping her in every difficulty.
But as they reached higher ground, the heather grew shorter, and ere
long entirely disappeared; then, to their great joy, they came upon the
footprints of apparently several hares.
Cautiously they followed them up for some distance. Suddenly Willie
brought his gun to the shoulder.
Bang! Carlo bounded forwards and returned next minute with a splendid
specimen of the mountain hare.
“Good, Willie, good!” cried Sandie, grasping him by the hand. “But
wasn’t it a----”
“A fluke? I think not.”
No one there had such quick eyes as Willie, for in five minutes more he
repeated his first exploit, and a short time afterwards he did the same
again.
As Mackenzie and the others looked so thoroughly and completely
astonished, Willie was forced to laugh aloud.
“Oh, you humbug!” cried Sandie. “Why you’re a crack shot, you rascal,
and that episode of loading the gun was got up to deceive us!”
“Look! look!” This from Willie, as two splendid ptarmigans rose from the
ground.
Mackenzie and Willie fired a barrel each, and both birds fluttered
groundwards.
Well might Willie smile. He had established his fame as a good shot, and
completely wiped out the stain from his character as a sportsman.
On and on all that forenoon went the party, no one seeming to feel the
least tired. But towards two o’clock they began to feel hungry, if they
did not feel tired, for the air among these Highland hills is keen and
bracing. So Stuart spread plaids on the snow, and down they all sat to
one of the most delightful luncheons ever partaken of by hungry
huntsmen. It was now nearly three o’clock, and the winter’s sun was
rapidly nearing the pine forest on the rugged shores south of the Don.
So all haste was made back to the trap, Sandie assisting Stuart in
carrying the hares and birds. As they mounted the trap to drive back to
the manse, everybody agreed that they had spent a glorious day.
Willie, nevertheless, confessed to being tired.
“Well,” said Sandie, “we’ll forgive you for that; but, O Willie, what a
trick you played us!”
But the refreshing cups of tea that Maggie May brought Willie, when at
last they got safely home, banished every vestige of fatigue, and he was
soon his laughing, happy self again.
As the wind had now begun to blow, and snow was falling, the students
agreed to stay at the manse all night. So a messenger was despatched
immediately to Kilbuie farm to let Mrs. M‘Crae know their decision, and
then Mackenzie, who really was a boy at heart, and the students settled
down to enjoy themselves.
The minister rather prided himself on the good dinners he gave, and
certainly that of to-night was no exception to the general rule.
After this, as Robbie Burns says--
“The nicht drave on wi’ sangs and clatter,”
till twelve o’clock, chimed out by the pretty clock on the mantelpiece,
a gift from the minister’s parishioners, warned them it was time to
court repose.
* * * * *
How quickly that week sped away, only those situated as were Sandie and
Willie could imagine.
But every time has an end, and the more we are enjoying ourselves, the
faster does old Father Time fly. This is very nasty of old Father Time,
only he will have his own way, despite anything we can say or do.
The last night had come and gone, and Willie had retired to his room,
and was seated by the window, through which the bright moonlight was
streaming, when Elsie, looking in her long night-dress like a sheeted
ghost, came gliding in. Her dark hair all undone was streaming down her
back. Sandie hastened to place a seat for her, and to wrap her from top
to toe in a Highland plaid.
All in all were they to each other that brother and sister, and
innumerable were the things they had to tell each other on this last
night, and many the confidences to interchange, for four long months
must elapse ere they could see each other again.
More than once Sandie could see tears glistening in the moonbeams on his
sister’s cheeks.
But one o’clock came at last, and he had to send her away.
“Anyhow, Sandie,” she said, as she rose to go, “you will promise not to
study too, _too_ hard. Mind you are all I have, Sandie, and if anything
happened to you, the grave would soon close over your poor sister
Elsie.”
“I promise,” said Sandie, “to take care of myself for mother’s sake and
yours. Good-night, dear Elsie.”
“Good-night, dear Sandie.”
And away glided the girl again as silently as she had come.
* * * * *
Sandie and Willie got back to the city on Hogmanay night. That is the
last night of the old year. This is kept in Scotland with great glee,
and I fear with not a little drunkenness. No one thinks of going to bed
till the New Year comes in, and no one thinks of remaining indoors.
Our heroes found Union Street about eleven o’clock crowded to excess,
one dense mob from Union Bridge to Castle Hill, but all good-humoured,
all hearty. Here and there the bagpipes skirled, here and there songs
were sung.
But when it was within about five minutes to twelve an expectant hush
fell over all that vast multitude.
Anon the first stroke of the bell boomed over the city, then the cheer
that went toward that moonlit sky may be imagined, but never never could
be described.
At the same moment everybody seemed to produce a bottle of whisky, and
everybody drank with and shook hands with his nearest neighbour, no
matter who or what he was.
But by one o’clock the multitude had melted away, solitary watchmen
paraded the streets, and the pale moon shown calmly down on the pure
white walls of the Granite City.